A Legend Falls Page 10

  His arrival was announced by three short horn blows. Soldiers flooded out from their tents to catch a glimpse of their infamous leader and to honor him by bowing low as he passed. Takeo waded through the deluge. Other people, weaker people, might be persuaded by such displays of fealty to think themselves elevated above the common man, but Takeo was raised stronger than that. The adoration fell uselessly at his feet, and he did not waver in his pursuit of what matter most: ultimate victory.

  His eyes watched the Nguyen fortress, looking for cracks in the stone walls so high above. He scanned the distant guards, waiting to see if they wavered in place or showed some other sign of fatigue. He searched the skies, watching for carrier pixiu to be released, which would need to be shot down.

  Takeo swept the lines before him until he found his prisoner and prison guard, the Yilmaz boy and Nicholas, respectively. They were on the elevated training grounds, and they paused and stared back at Takeo’s approach. They appeared to be armed with training weapons, and Takeo squinted. He didn’t remember giving Nicholas orders to train the boy, yet what else could they be doing?

  I suppose it’s to be expected. Guarding that child must be terribly boring, and what else does Nicholas do when he’s bored except drink and fight? Still, I should warn him not to get too friendly. I may have to kill the boy, and soon.

  Takeo also spied Kuniko and the other daimyo awaiting his arrival just outside the royal camp, gathered about as any good procession would expect. The throng of bodies bowed before him created the perfect path to guide him, so disciplined and eager to serve were the soldiers that they dared not block their lord’s intended path.

  Takeo kept one hand firmly on his sword, using his heightened senses to search for arrows or rocks or ninja stars or anything, anything at all that aimed to slay him in this vulnerable moment.

  He did not like being afraid.

  Kuniko and all the daimyo bowed as Takeo came close. They stayed there, too, so long that it dawned on Takeo they were awaiting orders, or perhaps a speech. He faltered. He hadn’t intended to deliver anything, not even the bad news that weighed on his mind about the other sieges. Messengers had already been sent, surely, so there was no need for him to speak of these things. What did they want? He didn’t have time or patience to assuage their curiosities. He’d speak to them when he was good and ready.

  “Dismissed. Kuniko, a word,” he grumbled and then slipped away to his tent.

  Meager though the command was, it was obeyed with vigor. Soldiers and daimyo alike dispersed. If they were disappointed in Takeo’s lack of communication, they did not show it. Takeo thought there was something to be read there, but he was in no mood to divine the meaning. He only wanted to know what great tragedy awaited him. Surely Kuniko would know, yet her report left him even more disturbed.

  “My lord,” she began, on her knees with forehead to the ground. “Nothing has changed since you left. The Nguyens remain eerily quiet. No soldiers have attempted to flee, nor have there been any attempts to send messages through our lines.”

  Takeo sipped hot tea, which had been brewed the second he’d been sighted.

  “None?” he repeated. “Or they’re sending them at night, perhaps?”

  “If so, my lord, then they have been careful to only send them when there is no moon, and I’d not count on that. Urgent messages cannot wait a month to be sent. There has only been one attempt at communication, with us, which is why I’m glad you are here.”

  Takeo raised an eyebrow.

  “Qadir has sent a messenger for you,” she went on. “The messenger said he can only deliver Qadir’s words directly to you. At least, I believe that’s what he said. Yes, it is.”

  “You sound rather uncertain.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but this messenger is baffling. Several times I forgot he was even at our camp, and some of the guards even forgot they were supposed to watch him. I distinctly remember him walking freely through the camp, finding me, and repeating his insistence that he speak to you as soon as possible. I’m ashamed to admit such lax behavior in myself and my soldiers.”

  Takeo froze, blood running cold in his veins. He dropped the teacup and bolted to a stand, hand on his sword. The rapidity sent a chill down Kuniko’s spine, and she bolted upright, too, thinking he’d spotted an intruder.

  “My lord?” she said.

  “Him? He’s here?” Takeo snarled. “Where is he? Where is he!”

  “My lord, we have him at the, uh,” she paused, “one second. I know. I know I should know. I sent him there, to the, uh, he, um—this way.”

  Takeo burst out of the tent and Kuniko followed, sprinting to take the lead.

  “My lord, if you’ll forgive me, perhaps we should use caution,” she said, breathlessly. “I haven’t finished putting together your new honor guard yet. There were hundreds of volunteers, but I’m still culling the weak. If Qadir sent him—”

  “I need a guard when I’m sleeping, Kuniko,” Takeo said, cutting her off. “I’m awake, and Aiguo is in my camp, lurking around, spying, and I’ll be damned if he slips out of here before I’ve removed his head from his shoulders. That bastard has probably seen, heard, and read more in my absence than I could tell him myself. Qadir could send any lowly samurai to give me a personal message; Aiguo is here to scout. I’ll be lucky if he hasn’t slipped away already.”

  Kuniko redoubled her efforts to remember the way. She closed her eyes at one point and let her feet lead her, realizing her mind couldn’t be trusted, but that perhaps her intuition could. It was a trick Takeo had learned, too, when it came to Aiguo. The man could not be remembered by face or name, but Takeo could by utilizing his hatred.

  In the meantime, Takeo scrambled as he thought of what questions he could ask to narrow his search. He had no doubts that Aiguo was gone by now, as news of Takeo’s arrival would have spread like wildfire. He contemplated sending for Emy, for her sense of smell, but he couldn’t be sure she would be helpful in time. How would she know which smell was Aiguo’s? Would his jinni power throw her off? Time was more important, and Takeo could send another to fetch Emy while he tracked Aiguo. The space between the camp and mountain was a vast field of nothingness, and so if Aiguo attempted to flee back that way, then perhaps he could be stopped in time. Then Takeo would cut him down like the animal he was.

  When they reached the tent that Kuniko swore was the right one, Takeo didn’t even wait for formalities to pass. When the guards went to bow, the ronin yelled out at them.

  “Get up, get up,” he shouted. “Where is the prisoner? Where has he gone?”

  “My lord, I,” one of the men stuttered.

  “The prisoner, my lord?” the other said.

  “Ah yes, the prisoner, yes,” the first remembered, bowing out of habit despite the direct order. “He’s inside, my lord.”

  “No, he’s not,” Takeo snarled. “Quickly, look inside and tell me which way he could have gone. Did you speak to anyone recently that you can remember? A faceless person? Did it feel like a dream? Are you unsure if it happened at all?”

  The two guards shared bewildered looks. One recovered first dashed inside, only to come out just as quickly, looking more confused.

  “My, uh, my lord,” he started, beginning to sweat. “The prisoner is still there.”

  Takeo stopped.

  “What?” he mumbled.

  “The prisoner, my lord,” the samurai repeated. “He is, um, he’s still inside.”

  Takeo scanned the outside of the tent intensely, looking for shadows or nearby tents that could house assassins. He even looked for unfamiliar servants or soldiers milling about. He strained his ears, searching for sounds, or the lack thereof, and listened to his own breathing just to be sure his intuition hadn’t picked up on something already. He ripped out his sword and strode into the tent, the guards flinching ever so slightly as he went by.

  It was dark inside. Takeo’s eyes adjusted quickly, yet it took him some time to notice Aiguo at all because h
e was too busy scanning every corner for the trap. There appeared to be none, beyond the wiry, firm-jawed, black-brown haired man sitting on the ground, arms open and head bowed.

  He’s here. He’s really here. How can that be? Is this really happening? I feel like it’s more likely he’s another rakshasa in disguise, yet that can’t be with the effect he’s had on my troops. Why is he still here? He knows I want to kill him on sight. What in the world is going on? What is happening to me?

  Takeo teetered on the edge of murdering him right there, only hesitating because he was so thrown off. He wanted to kill him just to bring some level of balance to his life again, and it dawned on him how tense he was. Qadir and his unusual behavior had strained Takeo to the breaking point, and hardly anything had happened at all.

  “Damn the rakshasa kind and their games,” Takeo whispered, then raised his voice to Aiguo. “Speak.”

  There was no need to threaten him. Aiguo knew the risk of appearing before Takeo, within striking distance, better than anyone. They both knew that Aiguo had been Jabbar’s right hand, a helpful cur that had enabled Emily’s death. Takeo saw this man as unfinished business, a loose end that needed to be dispatched. At the same time, Aiguo held no reservations that this description fit him perfectly, or illusions that his life didn’t hinged on every syllable that was about to leave his lips.

  Aiguo lowered his eyes and bowed his sweat-drenched forehead.

  “Before you kill me,” the man said, “I should tell you that Qadir does not know I’m here.”

  “As if I’d trust a word uttered by your twisted tongue. Rakshasas play games within games, and you aim to mimic them in every capacity.”

  “A lesser man would take that as an insult, but not I, my lord.”

  Takeo let loose a bestial snarl and dashed forward. Aiguo yelped as Takeo snatched him by his collar and drug him out of the tent into the sunlight. Takeo flung him to the ground and put a foot to his throat, pressing down until Aiguo let loose at satisfying gurgle. Takeo expected Aiguo to grab the ronin by the ankle, like any fighter would when struggling for air, but he lay prone and docile as a slave, hands together in a servant’s pose.

  The scene drew little attention. The guards looked outward with a hollow gaze. Soldiers walked on without pause. Kuniko stood at readied attention.

  All knew it was best to mind their own business when it came to their lord general.

  “You dare mock me?” Takeo seethed through clenched teeth. “Forget ending your life mercifully. I’ll cut your limbs off one by one, like I did your true lord. I’ll send you back piece by piece, with a mocking note for Qadir to save them so he’ll have something to eat while I starve his crippled form upon the stubborn throne he’s chosen to die on.”

  “No offense,” Aiguo gasped, hardly intelligible through his crushed windpipe. “I . . . meant . . . no . . . offense.”

  Takeo pressed down until Aiguo’s eyes began to bulge, and Takeo knew that one hair’s breadth further and the man’s spine would pop. Then he stepped off, and Aiguo took a huge breath of air before rolling over and coughing, deep and guttural.

  “I’ve decided I don’t care what you have to say,” Takeo said, sheathing his sword. “Doubtless your only purpose is to drive me into one of Qadir’s traps. I like my plan better. Kuniko, have this man taken away. Cut his tongue off and burn his eyes out. Save what’s left of him so I can play my own games with the crippled beast of the mountain.”

  “Wait, wait!” Aiguo cried out, or tried to through the pain in his throat.

  But Takeo had spoken, and so he was obeyed. Although he’d spoken to Kuniko, the guards rushed forward and snatched Aiguo up. When he struggled to stay down, they didn’t hesitate to strike him. Takeo turned to leave, feeling confident for the first time in a long time that he’d made the right choice.

  “Wait, please!” Aiguo cried out, voice recovering out of necessity. “Hear me out! I abandoned him! Takeo, my lord, I left him, please. I serve you now. I serve you!”

  Takeo slowed. He hadn’t expected to hear that, but what did he care? As if he wanted to be served by that sniveling coward. The guards, ever wise, did not slow their pace. Aiguo shouted one last time before the distance between them grew too great for his hoarse voice.

  “I know his plan!”

  Takeo stopped.

  That would be useful. But how could I trust him? He’ll say anything to save his own skin, but is it possible? Would Qadir be so foolish as to share his plans with Aiguo? He’d have to, though, wouldn’t he? What else is a commander to do but put his trust in someone, somewhere? However, if Qadir did tell Aiguo everything, then why risk the man by sending him here?

  Unless Aiguo was telling the truth from the beginning.

  “Wait,” Takeo said. “Bring him back.”

  The guards froze, turned about, and drug the prisoner back. They ignored his attempts to walk, and in time, he gave up. Aiguo did shudder with relief, though, just before the guards flung him to his knees before the ronin.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Aiguo gasped, breathless, bowing until his forehead ground into the dirt. “You are as merciful as you are wise.”

  “I didn’t say I’d spare you,” Takeo said. “Even if everything you said is true, that only makes me right: you are traitorous scum. If you’ve betrayed Qadir, then it would only be a matter of time before you betrayed me, too.”

  “Once again, your words would sound insulting to a lesser man, but I know—oh, how I know—you are wise to say such things,” Aiguo pressed, gasping for air. “You, you of all people, I think, understand the betraying of one’s master. You understand that betrayal rarely has to do with disloyalty. Ack! I'm sorry, my voice—it hurts. Listen please. You and I know the opposite is true, that a man betrays because he is too loyal—not to his master, but to something else entirely, either a thing, a person, or a concept.”

  “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were talking about yourself.”

  “And you,” Aiguo pleaded, straining to speak properly through a bruised throat. “And you. We know, it’s the master who holds this thing in his grasp that can always count on the loyalty of the so-called traitor. You know this to be true. I’ve watched you rise by this principle. Look around you. These samurai who follow you, do they not have a similar concept of loyalty? By all accounts, you have no lordly blood. You rule by something much more primal that cuts straight to what all these soldiers are truly loyal to. Would you call them traitors, too?”

  Takeo paused. He hadn’t expected Aiguo to issue such a short yet cutting speech. However, none of that lessened his hatred for the man. He contemplated kicking Aiguo just to reassert his dominance over the conversation, but Aiguo stayed down. His face pressed so firmly into the dirt that he’d suffocate if he went any further.

  A quick nod from Takeo sent the two guards backpedaling out of earshot. Still Aiguo did not rise, the perfect image of subjugation.

  “Well now, if that didn’t sound practiced,” Takeo said.

  “There is no need to practice when one speaks from the soul.”

  “You don’t have a soul,” Takeo snarled, reaching for his sword.

  “But value, my lord, I do have value,” Aiguo added hastily. “Didn’t you say that to me once? In the desert? You said you’d kill me one day, but not then, because I was valuable. Let me be valuable to you once more, if only to prolong my life, which is, as you know, the most important thing to me. You are too wise to believe that there’s anything I’d die for, but that does not mean I cannot be loyal, or useful.”

  “Ha! Now this is rich. Why? Why abandon Qadir for me? Why abandon a creature as clever as a rakshasa, in a position of power, who is so dependent on you, for a person like me, who has sworn to kill you countless times? How am I supposed to believe you would ever do something like that?”

  “Because,” Aiguo replied, taking a deep breath, “you’re going to win.”

  Takeo froze. Aiguo’s nails dug into the ground, bracing for a blow th
at did not come. The man risked one slight glance up, only to see Takeo standing firm. He ducked his head back down and risked another speech.

  “I seek power, my lord,” Aiguo said, breathless. “It’s addicting, I’ll admit. Controlling people’s lives the way they used to control mine, there’s nothing else like it. I’ll never go back to being a peasant. I’ll flee to the lawless lands of Savara before I stand in the ranks of the common soldier again. I see no reason to fall along with Qadir before your enchanted blade and indomitable will. Call me cowardly if you wish, but surely you know that I am clever. I’ve served two rakshasas, and those beasts would never have a stooge for an underling. Your victory may not appear inevitable to everyone, but it does to me. I know Qadir’s plans, and I know better than any that you will reign triumphant. So here I am, on my knees, because you have the means to command my loyalty where Qadir does not. It’s the same reason you have daimyo who follow you now, and soldiers, and peasants, and everything else. You bring your followers victory, my lord.

  “Please, let me live. Better yet, give me power and let me be valuable to you. I beg this of you, and I will show you the loyalty you deserve.”

  Takeo stood rooted in place, one hand still tight around his sword. In the depths of his hatred, he’d momentarily forgotten why he’d spared Aiguo in the first place. The man’s words had brought that reason back.

  “If I’m going to win, then why do I need you?” Takeo said, cautiously. “What do you know that makes you so valuable?”

  “Timing, my lord,” Aiguo continued, sighing with relief. “Without me, you will lose this battle. You may win the war one day, but not without cost. With me, you can be emperor of Juatwa in a week.”

  Takeo burst into laughter.

  “A week? Ludicrous,” he said.

  “Unfortunately not,” Aiguo countered, “because that’s exactly how long you have until this battle is decided. Qadir’s plans have already come to fruition.”

  Takeo went silent again. A flash of cold sweat replaced his laughter, and all his weeks of anxiety came crashing down. Of all the things Aiguo could have said about the rakshasa, that was what Takeo feared most, and it drove an iron stake into his chest.