6

  Homiaoem

  Kivaan was growing more frustrated with every watch that passed. Tsukio and Jiriou had caught up to them in no time, and indeed the lack of progress made in the interval had embarrassed Kivaan. Oniwa had not been slowed in the least by his delicate-seeming burdens, but the princess had tripped on what might possibly have been every single shrub and root available. Her rich garments got caught on any twig with the least bit of resistance, and every now and then she would yelp in pain as an especially sharp branch prodded her through her light footwear. Kivaan was beginning to think that he should offer to carry her, but also dared not lest he cause offence.

  If she asks, I will do so. In the meantime, we must travel at a third of the speed that we would be capable of without this hindrance. And now it will take us even longer to reach Shikyo, and so even longer to reach Hotsukiyoem.

  “You are pensive as ever,” murmured Tsukio in Kivaan’s ear as he drew level.

  Kivaan snorted and rubbed absentmindedly at Vashti’s furry jaw, allowing himself a dry little smile at her entitled purring as she padded along silently next to him. Tsukio’s Kiasa let out the occasional chirrup of interest in her surroundings. The great wolf at Oniwa’s disposal was trained well by the mountain lad, and had disappeared out of sight to search for any sign of enemy activity.

  Behind them, the princess gasped again as something inconvenienced her. The two comrades turned as one to ensure she was unharmed, but Kivaan got the distinct impression that he had not hidden his irritation very well, as the princess went red and bobbed her head in apology.

  “It is nothing worth speaking of,” Kivaan finally said to Tsukio. “I do pray we make good time to Shikyo. The wilderness is no place for ladies of nobility. It is an unforeseen hindrance that our mounts refuse to bear the Chuho upon them. Their scent is even on the Princess.”

  “How long … Knight Ascendant … do you think it shall take us?” gasped Tsuzumiyu apologetically, doing her best to navigate a broken branch.

  “It depends on many things, Princess,” Kivaan replied gently. “From this place … likely four dawns at least.”

  “Our captors made very good ground with us,” Tsuzumiyu smiled sadly. “I am grateful that it seems you do not intend to push us quite that fiercely.”

  “How were you taken?” asked Kivaan. He needed anything to distract himself from the painfully slow progress. In truth he should have asked this long ago, but with only himself and Oniwa to guard the women, he had dared not distract himself with conversation.

  “I awoke in custody,” the princess said, a tremor in her voice. “We were already within The Dark Storm when I was awakened. One of them was a high-level Charmer.”

  “Then they were likely not there when we attacked,” Tsukio observed, his tone edged with a warning.

  “Agreed, none of the guards were at a proficient level of anything,” Kivaan mused, irritated again. Critical information, such as the absence of a powerful foe, should have been offered immediately, but he forced himself to remember that the Princess was no warrior and he had chosen not to ask. “Even their armour was weak, granted our ability is great. I thought it strange that we penetrated their defences with so little effort. They must have been truly desperate to do whatever it took to gain the favour of the High Priestess.”

  “You think another attempt will be made?” fretted Tsuzumiyu.

  “I know it,” Kivaan replied matter-of-factly. “They have come too far and risked too much to leave without either much more bloodshed, or their prize. Besides that, we are alone and isolated in the middle of the wilds.” Already, he could feel the cool sensation of his heart and mind being enshrouded in the steel veneer that kept him calm and calculating in the midst of battle. It was practically an involuntary reaction to the anticipation of a contest of arms.

  “What level of agent do you think they may have sent?” wondered Tsukio.

  “That depends very much on exactly what they want and how much they want it.” Kivaan frowned and then stopped walking. He turned and dipped his head respectfully to the princess, not making eye contact. “With utmost respect, Princess … I know how much the Cult hates the bloodline of the Chuho. Even so, I find it hard to accept that they would send agents into the heart of our nation so aggressively with that motivation alone. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help us guard your lives?”

  “N-no,” Tsuzumiyu replied immediately; too quickly for Kivaan’s liking.

  He smiled thinly to himself and looked to Tsukio. “We may have to be very fortunate to survive our journey to Shikyo, if we even survive the night,” he said softly. “I do wish we were at least out of the woods and back beneath the stars. Few could take us unawares when you are able to read the heavens, my friend.”

  “You are able to read the stars?” breathed Tsuzumiyu, her eyes beholding Tsukio with a mixture of awe and – Kivaan thought – trepidation.

  “I am but a layman playing at things he does not understand,” Tsukio laughed. “The heavens are vast, and specifics are difficult to find if you do not know exactly where to look. It is akin to looking for a single entry in a library when you do not even know which book to look in.”

  “Even so,” Kivaan observed, “there is no reading them at all beneath this canopy of midnight. Come. We should press on.”

  Tsuzumiyu screamed as if she were being murdered and fell to her knees in the loam, gasping for breath and holding her head in her hands. Kivaan was immediately in front of her, Tsukio at his rear. Already, Kivaan was piercing through the darkness for stray traces of another’s spiritual attack. Tsuzumiyu had said nothing yet, but he already knew this was no jarred toe or lacerated limb. Her mind had been attacked.

  There! he both realised and signed to Tsukio as he caught the hidden trail of a darkened soul. On guard, he signed, gratefully observing that Oniwa and Jiriou were closing on their position.

  “I am on my guard this time,” Tsuzumiyu winced, as if in pain. “I set up guards against any sort of mind-charm. He is here.”

  “They are five in number, unless I am mistaken,” Kivaan whispered tersely to his fellows. “Draw now. They come from behind. They were pursuing us.”

  “They will not mind-charm us this time,” Tsuzumiyu promised, both confidence and fatigue on her face. “I have their measure. I will shield those who remain close from any illusion.” She looked with pleading eyes to Kivaan. “You must still outmatch them in martial prowess, however.”

  Something shimmered on the edge of Kivaan’s senses and his spear came about in a flash of sparks as it emerged even as he brought it to action. An agent flailed to a stop moments from impaling himself on the weapon, surprise in the wide eyes visible through the full face-mask he wore. Anonymity was not a good sign.

  The agent was immediately forced to parry Tsukio’s own thrust, at which Kivaan promptly drove his own lance straight towards his heart. The spear connected in a small explosion of light with the agent’s spirit armour, but unlike their previous combat, it did not penetrate.

  The beginnings of a smug glint in the agent’s eyes faltered as a small javelin tore through his physical armour, Oniwa having loosed one of his outlandish arrows from near point-blank range. His spiritual armour waned as he realised he was going to lose this fight, and then Kivaan’s spear resumed its journey to his wicked heart.

  “This is no fodder,” Jiriou snarled. “Kivaan, even your spear stopped short at his defences!”

  “And I have no doubt he was little more than a pawn to test the waters,” Kivaan confessed grimly. “Be on your guard. I sense four more in the darkness, and I could be wrong if any are hiding their presence.”

  “That pawn took three of us to deal with,” Oniwa warned uneasily. “Do we mean to die here?”

  “I have no answers for you in this moment,” Kivaan replied, his attention pulled in different directions. “Do what is right in your own eyes. You know I have chosen my Way.”

  “As have I,” Tsukio nodded.

  Oniwa grimaced and Jiriou shook his head in disbelief. The former nocked another arrow to his string, but Jiriou glared.

  “I will not die so hopelessly,” he said angrily. “This is foolishness of the highest order. Leave the Chuho and let us flee!”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “I do not think it is the Chuho that the Agents of Raashim are chasing,” Kivaan replied. “Even so, I would not have left any of our citizens behind to be spirited away by foreigners, Jiriou. Not even you.”

  Jiriou spat sideways at that. “You dig your own grave,” he growled. “I take my leave. I am not ready to die.” And without another word, he slipped away into the trees, never a look over his shoulder. The last Kivaan saw of him, the lad was stealing away south and east, evidently making his way towards his own clan’s lands as quickly as possible.

  Maybe word will at least be brought to my family eventually, he thought wryly. It would have been something had he at least offered to take the Princess with him. But no … I do believe she is the one being hunted.

  “I cannot promise I will die alongside you,” Oniwa said with regret. “I am not so fine a warrior … merely a huntsman who passed the Trials of Raashim. But I will aid you for as long as I can.”

  “It is more than I should ask,” Tsuzumiyu replied, before Kivaan could say anything. “I would have released you all from your obligations myself if Jiriou had left scarce moments later.” She smiled bitterly to herself. “I know such words are wasted on the Knight Ascendant now.”

  “You would have me turn tail and run?” asked Kivaan mirthlessly. “Is my Eres nothing more than a handful of iron coins?”

  “That is not what I meant,” Tsuzumiyu said softly, hurt.

  “It does not matter anymore,” Kivaan said stolidly, squaring his shoulders for the oncoming struggle. “The pieces have been set. All that remains is to play the game.”

  “They have passed through my shield,” whispered Tsuzumiyu, her eyes haunted.

  Four figures emerged out of the gloom, dimly ringed in glowing lights. Kivaan recognised the spell immediately as a defensive charm that laced intruders into an area with illumination that clung to them. This was the princess’ work, and it was no small ability. She had far more skill as a Charmer than she had ever let on.

  “See the lights,” observed one of the agents with humour, nodding to his trailing glow. “At what point did the princess learn the Discipline of the Twilight Realm, I wonder?”

  “Well observed, Big Brother,” chuckled a female. “Teachers of that discipline are strictly regulated, are they not?”

  “And they certainly do not travel out of Raashim’s City,” agreed another agent.

  All four wore the same masks as their less patient comrade, which covered their entire faces besides their eyes. The masks were blank and smooth-finished, no more than a covering and likely a modicum of armour. They all spoke in the language of White Towers.

  But this is the Cult we speak of, Kivaan reminded himself. There must be more to these masks than that.

  “You are skilled, Knight Ascendant Kivaan, Firstborn of the Second Guardian,” acknowledged the one who had not spoken yet. “Highly skilled. We would welcome such as you gladly.”

  “How many of Eres Zoru have joined your fold?” laughed Kivaan harshly.

  The speaker cocked his head. “More than you would be happy to know. Few enough that your point is well made. Leave the girls and depart. You will keep your lives, and perhaps even meet with further opportunity in days to come. Pursue your Way, and you will perish for it.”

  “That is something I will not do,” Kivaan returned. “Neither can I make such an offer to you. You have trespassed and not only attempted the abduction of our citizens, but of the highest born daughter in the land. I am sworn to bring you to battle.”

  “Well said, Knight Ascendant,” chuckled the one who had engaged him in conversation. “Well said. Shall we be about it then?”

  “Guard yourselves,” Kivaan growled. “We attack.”

  Oniwa loosed one of his great arrows immediately upon Kivaan’s order, and battle was joined. The target of the arrow reached up and swatted it away with an arm made knotted and scaly in an instant before it faded back into normalcy. Kivaan knew instantly that this went beyond charms and spiritual defences.

  Of course the Agents of Raashim have something else they dabble in, and it gives me deep misgivings. Nothing for it now … we will lose if we concentrate on defence. We must go on the attack and hope to lay low some of their people quickly.

  Kivaan narrowed his focus and was abruptly behind the agent on the outside flank, jabbing viciously between their shoulder-blades with his spear. A scaly, black-spined, arm grew out of his target’s back and grabbed the spear in a grip like a vice. Just as suddenly however, it let go, and the agent howled something bestial to the sky, a look of horror in his eyes as the spear impaled him.

  One! thought Kivaan with intense relief.

  “Curious,” laughed the leader, charging directly into Kivaan. “Curious indeed. Then I will test my mettle against you.”

  This one wielded a spirit weapon akin to a short sword, and expertly made his way around Kivaans’ spear defence and into close quarters. It was becoming harder and harder for Kivaan to fight in a manner that both protected himself and put pressure on his attacker. A spear was exceptional if you were more skilled than your opponent or outnumbered them … but they did not have the advantage of numbers here, and Kivaan had to confess to being very evenly matched.

  He could not see Oniwa anywhere, and Tsukio was being hard pressed as well. That left another agent unaccounted for …

  There was a flash to Kivaan’s left and he barely managed to guard against the flank attack that came from the missing agent’s spear. A searing pain lanced through his side as his original opponent made good use of the distraction.

  Are my defences so poor? wondered Kivaan for a moment. Then he saw that the blade in the leader’s hand was physical. I have blundered.

  He was immediately forced to counter yet another spear strike, and managed to guard in the next instant against another thrust from the short sword. But this could not be sustained. Already the pain in his side throbbed and he could feel the wet of his blood on his skin and robes. Another attack from the spear, but this time Kivaan went bodily under it while knocking the short sword aside with the shaft of his spear. He immediately followed up with his own strike against the spear wielder, but it glanced off the agent’s spiritual defences. They were all well set in their values and devotion to Raashim. A blindly trusting simpleton could have as impenetrable a defence as the keenest mind, to Kivaan’s disgust. He was only happy that the mounts had left the area. Hopefully they would make their way home to Hotsukiyoem. While they would have been valuable allies in a war against physical weapons and armour, they had nothing to offer in such a fight as this. Indeed, every chance they had of notifying the land of what had happened here was a worthy effort. Even Jiriou’s desertion would work to the good of Dark Storm.

  “As you can see,” rasped the leader, confident despite having to work for his leverage over Kivaan, “there is much we could offer a warrior such as yourself!”

  “I have a feeling I know what it is you have to offer,” Kivaan grunted, distracting the spearman with another jab aimed at his face. “However, I am not so sure you understand what you are dabbling with.”

  “Better acquainted than you know,” laughed the agent, pacing cautiously just outside of Kivaan’s reach. At his lead, the spearman had also let up the attack, and now waited for his superior to reengage.

  “Then you are truly degenerate,” Kivaan stated. I fight both the best and worst of the remaining agents … Tsukio seems to be matching skill with his opponent. Good. Then he faltered. Where is the princess and her handmaidens?

  The lead agent laughed cruelly. “You have noticed at last? You thought I was the greatest of your pursuers? You do not know how greatly you have erred, Knight Ascendant. Your body will rot in these woods, food for the beasts of the hills. We will hunt down and destroy your cowardly allies before they can reach their clansmen. No one will know what came to pass here.”

  “And yet,” breathed Kivaan, allowing himself the consolation of a proud smirk, “I will go with gladness into the court of Jiaduni. You may slay me and my brother this night, but you will understand true loss when the Fiend you consider a pet claims your soul.”

  Something pulsed angrily within the lead agent, and he stumbled in that moment. Seizing what might be the only opportunity given to him, Kivaan snapped forward, his spear dissolving from his hands. He caught the agent a devastating strike to the throat with his fist – pure physical strength. The agent went down, violently gagging and choking, his arms flailing about and losing grip on his short sword. As he bent to press his attack with a speed born of desperation, Kivaan found himself caught in the mangled, charred, limb of some beast that reached up out of the agent’s chest. The agent’s eyes glowed an infernal red from the depths of the mask and stared hatefully at Kivaan as he was impaled by the spearman who had caught up with the flow of the battle.

  So it is true, Kivaan thought amidst the pain and lethargy spreading from his back. They have courted the Fiends. And this will go unknown. He sank heavily forward to his knees, catching a bleary glimpse of Tsukio already collapsed with his back to a tree. Perhaps it will be revealed that agents of White Towers crossed into our lands and attempted to steal away some Chuho. Perhaps it will even become known that the princess was caught up in that intrigue … I never did discover why she was targeted in the end. But it will never be known that the Temple of Raashim has allied itself with the Fiends that were always understood to be the enemies of all the Realms.

  “You fought well, Knight Ascendant,” choked the agent, his voice broken and guttural with the influence of his dark patron. “But you spent too much time chasing martial prowess, and not nearly enough understanding matters of the spirit.”

  Die on your knees, not on your back or face, Kivaan ordered himself savagely. Hold here. Hold here. He looked up through hair falling into his eyes and smiled wearily. “Finally, at the end,” he gasped, “you have said something true.”

  The light continued fading from his eyes, and he could tell the agent was relishing watching him die. It was entirely unprofessional and impractical, but it had struck him very early on that the Temple of Raashim fed on desire and emotional wants more than any truly objective or disciplined form of justice. They visited retribution on those who criticised them, and a refusal to join or celebrate them meant the same thing.

  Something shrieked as if it were being burned alive, but Kivaan was too far numbed now to respond. He was not above a wearily detached form of curiosity, especially when he saw the horror and loathing in the eyes of the lead agent. For a moment, he seemed unsure of what to do, and he turned to roar a command at Tsukio’s opponent, who had turned and fled into the trees.

  A woman in white robes stepped into Kivaan’s field of vision then, coming from behind him – where the spearman had been, he realised. Her hair was long and silken and so black as to threaten to suck you in. A single blade was sheathed at her side, tied to a crimson cord that encircled her waist and restrained her robes.

  She spoke with a sombre voice in the language of Eres Niwa, but Kivaan was fighting unconsciousness now and could not make out her words. He saw the agent jerk, fall to his knees in a violent spasm, and then something dark and terrible clawed its way from the agent’s chest and fled shrieking into the night.

  I have truly blundered greatly, Kivaan sighed to himself with an air of finality. I went chasing recognition for my skills in a foreign land, when I should have joined the ranks of my father’s sworn men at Hotsukiyoem and learned the art of fighting the Fiends. How could I have been so blind to the threat they posed? He groaned to himself. I will go to Jiaduni now … but I do wish I had been more useful to him beforehand. Jiaduni, I beg you … save that … save Princess Tsuzumiyu.

  His vision faded as the bare feet of the woman padded silently across the forest floor towards him.

  Homiaoem: translates to ‘field of blood’.