A Search for Home

Eiji stood, his sheathed sword knocking into another patron as he struggled for balance. The offended patron turned to respond, but quickly returned to his cup and friends when he saw the look on Eiji’s face.

A wise choice.

Eiji took a moment to focus, to keep his weight firmly between his planted feet. Had he really drunk so much? Sitting, he hadn’t felt drunk, but his swaying body told another story. He looked around the room again, but he still couldn’t see the face he waited for.

He stepped out of the tavern, the chill of the air cutting through his robes. The cold sharpened his awareness and brought him back to himself. The moon was high in the sky. More of the night had passed than he thought.

The sound of footsteps nearby made him jump. He hadn’t even sensed the woman who now stood beside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus.

There she was, the feel of her familiar. His gift still worked. The wine had only dulled it.

Reassured, he gave her a short bow, attempting to hide his surprise.

Eiji didn’t know her name. She’d never given it. As he’d never revealed his.

She had a knack for disappearing from his memory as soon as she left his sight. He glimpsed a nose a bit larger than normal and a sharp chin. A hood obscured many of her other features. If not for his sense of her, he wouldn’t have even been sure she was who he sought.

“Did you find him?” he asked.

“Rumors only.”

Eiji’s hopes wilted like autumn leaves. How many moons had he chased rumors?

How many would he continue to do so before he gave up all hope?

But what else was there? “What rumors?”

“A wanderer. Three, maybe up to four days west of here. He comes into a village, sharing food, then leaves.”

The same story, told in echoes across the Three Kingdoms. Whispers passed between families.

No one had spoken to him, though. He was a stranger here, too.

Eiji asked for directions, then handed her a small sum of coin. A pitiful amount where he came from; but here, enough to feed her for a half moon. Her effort had saved him plenty of trouble.

Times were tough in the Western Kingdom.

She gave a small bow of thanks, then vanished like a dream upon waking.

Eiji sighed and looked up to the stars above.

Then he walked out of the small village, following the road south. Once he was sure he was safe, he turned east until he came upon a small copse of densely packed trees. He worked his way in until he found his pack, hidden within. He sat down next to the pack, his back against a tree, and pulled a blanket over him.

The trees blocked most of the wind, but the night was still cool. Winter was coming, and he would soon need to find more substantial shelter. But remaining in one place for too long was a death sentence.

He needed to stay on the move.

Just like Koji, the warrior of legend he pursued.

His sleep wasn’t great, but it never was these days. Sleeping away from villages was safer, but he didn’t have the knack for sleeping outside.

The alcohol helped. A little. Only in the morning did he regret his choices.

He followed the woman’s directions, heading west.

The road, thankfully, was quiet. He passed less than a dozen travelers all morning.

Step after step, the leagues fell underfoot. He stopped for a light lunch in a village more accurately described as a rough collection of huts. But they welcomed him warmly when they found he could pay.

He traveled throughout the afternoon, still amazed at the sheer size of the Three Kingdoms. In the time he’d spent walking today, he could have crossed the island he had once called home a dozen times. Here, he’d traveled only a fraction of the distance he needed to.

His sore feet were a reminder he had chosen this path.

Thanks to the long, empty spaces, he sensed the approaching danger before they could spot him. They were moving fast, probably on horses.

Eiji ran, then dropped to all fours as the riders came within sight. He crawled, the sharp grasses of the prairie cutting at his hands as he put as much distance as possible between himself and the road. He kept his sense sharp, focused on the riders.

They were weak.

They rode past him without even slowing. He risked poking his head above the tall grasses, watching them riding with haste. They wore white robes, but they weren’t dayblades, at least, not as Eiji had grown up with. The dayblades he knew could heal. He wasn’t sure what the riders could do.

When he was certain he was safe, Eiji stood up and returned to the road, scratching his chin. The monks rode in the direction he traveled, and with purpose. Had the monks heard the same rumors Eiji had?

Four moons ago, when Eiji had first landed on the shores of the Three Kingdoms, he would have avoided monks at all costs. It was the one instruction he was given before his voluntary exile began.

But he had spent too much time wandering. He tired of searching, and he didn’t fear the monks anymore. They had yet to show him anything worth fearing.

Eiji followed the riders.

That night, he reached a village in chaos. Even though the sun had set long ago, people with torches roamed both through the village and in the surrounding fields. Eiji stopped some distance away. Protected by the darkness of night, he watched as torches circled the small village.

They were searching for someone.

Eiji kneeled down, hiding himself as he closed his eyes and quested with his sense. At this distance, the village felt like a single light, a fuzzy circle of life forces. He focused, trying to resolve the sensations into individual citizens.

Just as he had worried, the monks were there, in the center of the village. He could barely feel them, but they rested, allowing others to perform the search.

Eiji ignored his frustration. The monks thought so highly of themselves, but they did not understand how much knowledge they had lost so quickly. If they even thought of themselves as blades, they were fools. They were a shadow of a blade at best.

But if the monks were in town, the villagers could be searching for only one thing: another gifted.

Throughout the Three Kingdoms, the story was the same. The war eliminated the blades from the land. Now, if found, they were killed without question. If new gifted were born, they were forced to join the monasteries. Otherwise, they too died.

Eiji’s hand ran along the hilt of his sword. He imagined drawing it, killing the villagers and the monks who directed the search. They would murder whoever they searched for, or send them to the monasteries to learn how to hunt their own kind. They would destroy the treasure in their midst.

Twice Eiji had watched as the monks discovered a new gifted. Watched, unwilling to risk his own life, as they ushered the children into monastic life.

He lifted his hand from the sword. It would do no good. He would only attract more attention, and even he wasn’t invincible.

So he watched and wandered, using wine at night to help him forget his own decisions and wipe away the memories of children being forced into learning how to hunt others like them.

Which was why he sought Koji. Koji had lived in this land for more cycles than Eiji had been alive.

Eiji wanted to know how.

If the legends were true, Koji’s power was so great he could be sensed from a league away. How did a man like that avoid the monastic hunters?

Eiji slept in the fields. The search didn’t extend far outside the village, and he figured he was safe enough. His sense would warn him if anyone came too close. In the morning he would circle around the village and continue chasing rumors.

A commotion in the early hours of the morning woke him. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Eiji sat up and looked in the village’s direction. The first pinks of the morning sun brightened the sky, allowing him to see an older boy being physically restrained by two adults.

The boy kicked and fought, but he was less than half the size of the men and had no chance.

The men carried the boy into the village, where they disappeared from sight.

Eiji knew what happened next. They would give the boy a choice. If he accepted, he would ride back with the monks. If he refused, a grieving family would soon lay their son to rest. If they even bothered. Most families disowned gifted children.

Eiji packed what little gear he owned and stowed it away in his pack. He would lose a fair bit of the day going around the village, but better that than getting involved in the events tearing the small community apart.

Before he could begin walking, though, he saw a white-robed rider come into the village at a full gallop from the west. Eiji frowned. Another monk, and in a hurry, too. Not long after, he watched all three monks leaving the town at a gallop, heading west.

It had to be because of Koji. Somehow the monks had found him. The rumors were true.

Eiji was getting close.

And now the fastest way to get to him was through the village.

The monks were gone. He wouldn’t be in danger.

He angled toward the road and into the village.

Those he met near the outskirts looked exhausted. Given what he had seen the night before, Eiji wasn’t surprised. He remained wary. He was an outsider, and they were tired and on edge. Any mistake might draw undue attention.

He saw the boy in the center of the village, a circular space with a single massive tree providing shade to the surroundings. They had tied the boy to the tree, his wrists bound with the rope wrapped around the trunk.

In the short time since they had found him, they had beaten him, hard. Bruises mottled his arms and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He couldn’t have seen more than ten cycles, and they had treated him like this?

Eiji reached for his sword, a deep-seated reaction to the injustice. He was under no illusions about what the citizens of the Three Kingdoms were capable of. Every child on the island had heard the stories of persecution the gifted on the mainland endured.

But hearing a story and seeing one bleeding in front of him were two very different experiences.

If a citizen had come near him, Eiji would have spilled blood.

Perhaps they just didn’t care, or perhaps they could sense the danger radiating off him, but no one approached. Eiji didn’t draw his steel. Any action on his part endangered them both. His logic was cruel, but solid. Still, he could show the boy some kindness. He stepped toward the boy.

At first, Eiji thought the boy unconscious. But then he saw the glint of the boy’s good eye through matted and bloody hair. “I sense you, nightblade.”

The boy spoke softly, so that only the two of them could hear. Still, Eiji’s heart pounded harder as he approached. The boy, too, could become a threat. “Why are you alive?”

“They offered me a choice, but a rider came with news before I answered. They tied me here, ordered the others not to come close, and told me they would return by nightfall.”

Eiji did the calculations. If the monks rode to confront Koji, the legendary nightblade couldn’t be too far away, then.

“Why did they leave?” Eiji dared to hope.

“They found a warrior.”

Eiji suspected the boy knew more but refused to say. No matter. The answer was confirmation enough. The one he sought was close.

He made to leave. Once he found Koji, he would have a new path.

“My name is Isau,” the boy said.

Eiji couldn’t say why, but the comment stopped him. What did he care what the boy’s name was? In less than two days his fate would be final.

“You’re not like them. You’re different.” The boy’s voice was confident.
He possessed a refined gift, then. Few without training could have told the difference between a true nightblade and the monks left within the Three Kingdoms.

“Take me with you.”

The boy didn’t plead, despite his situation. Despite his efforts to remain detached, the boy’s attitude impressed Eiji. He had a warrior’s heart.

The soul of a true nightblade.

Isau, was it? Talented and courageous.

Eiji looked between the boy and the horizon the monks had disappeared over. Koji was close. He’d spent whole moons on the chase. How long would it take to find him again? Would Koji even survive much longer, pursued as he was by each of the kingdoms?

Eiji risked another glance back at Isau. The boy’s single good eye held his gaze.

No desperation.

No tears.

Just a silent acceptance of the way things were.

“I suppose you’ll threaten me now?” Eiji asked.

Isau shook his head. “Never.”

And Eiji believed him. When the monks returned, Isau would choose death, and he would never speak of Eiji’s presence.

Eiji almost left. There would be no consequence to speak of. Let Isau’s honor be his own undoing.

But he would have the boy’s blood on his hands.

With a growl, Eiji stepped forward, drew his sword, and cut through Isau’s bonds. The boy fell forward, barely catching himself before smashing his face against the hard-packed dirt.

Eiji heard the sharp intakes of breath around the village. No one had bothered the two of them, but the villagers had watched. One older man rushed toward Eiji. “Sir! I’m not sure what lies the boy has told you, but he is gifted. The monks will return shortly to deal with him.”

The assumptions within the statement almost made Eiji draw his sword again.

That the gift was a curse.

That beating a young boy and tying him to a tree was justified because of a quality the boy had no control over.

That the best action a citizen could take was to defer to the monks.

Eiji’s gaze froze the elder where he stood. “I know.”

The elder’s eyes widened, then traveled down to Eiji’s sword. He bowed, not out of respect, but out of fear. He shuffled backward, eyes and head down.

If they remained long, this scene would turn on them. The village would remember that they were many, and Eiji was only one man.

They couldn’t know they would all die in the attempt.

“Let’s go,” Eiji said. Isau stood, shaky, and Eiji led the way.

North.

Away from the village.

Away from Koji.

Isau didn’t speak the rest of the morning, nor through the early part of the afternoon. Eiji, eager to be away from the village and from trouble, kept a steady and demanding pace. Most of Isau’s remaining strength was spent just keeping up. Eiji reminded himself the boy probably hadn’t eaten for almost a full day and shared a little of the food from his pack.

In the afternoon, Eiji turned west again. He had no plan, but it pained him too much to abandon Koji after all this time.

“Who are you?” Isau asked.

“Eiji.”

“You’re a nightblade.” It was half a question, half a statement.

Eiji nodded.

“Where did you come from?”

A simple question, but the answer was both simple and complicated. One condition of Eiji’s exile was that he never speak of the island to another soul. That secret alone kept the blades safe.

Before he left, they had demanded an oath. Had he not given it, they would have forced him to remain on the island, and possibly even killed him for the trouble he had caused.

Eiji refused to go back on his word, but Isau didn’t deserve a lie. “The nightblades aren’t gone for good. There’s a place where they can train, and that is where I come from.”

Eiji knew what the next question would be and cut it off before Isau could ask it.

“I can’t take you there. I’m never allowed back.”

“Why not?”

Eiji remembered his time on the island. His mounting frustration, his feeling of confinement. An island was a cage with bars made of the open sky.

He remembered drinking, and he remembered the fire.

He shook his head. “I just can’t.”

Isau nodded, pretending he understood, and they continued walking.

They stopped for the night. Eiji didn’t dare risk lighting a fire, but he had plenty of food for the journey and shared with Isau. The boy ate his fill and fell asleep easily, his faith in the nightblade a blanket of protection.

Eiji wished he felt the same. He watched the stars twirl overhead, wondering at how he had come to be wandering the empty plains of the Western Kingdom with a gifted boy he had no particular interest in.

There were no answers.

There never were.

Life happened, an unending series of decisions both big and small that led to wherever he was.

Eiji didn’t want to assume responsibility for the boy.

They would redouble their efforts in the morning. Koji would know what to do. Eiji could offer him the boy, tell Koji what happened. Then the responsibility could fall on someone whose shoulders were strong enough to carry the weight.

He fell asleep, eager to meet Koji.

The next morning, he awoke to Isau running through basic fighting forms. Eiji watched with half an eye open. The boy’s forms were terrible, but the amount of effort he was putting into his practice was impressive. Isau noticed when his balance was off, when his footing wasn’t right. He moved through each step with careful deliberation, and even untrained, his form improved through the course of his study.

The method was slow, but better than nothing, Eiji supposed.

Eiji roused himself, getting up and filling his pack to prepare for the journey ahead.

“Where are we going?” Isau asked.

“To find Koji.”

“The nightblade?”

Eiji nodded, smiling at the look of stunned excitement on Isau’s face.

He felt the same. Maybe today would finally be the day he met the man he had heard so much about.

Later that morning they met four monks riding toward them at full speed instead.

Eiji swore. He’d successfully avoided the monks since his ship had touched the shores of the Three Kingdoms, but it appeared his success had come to an end.

Isau looked like frightened prey. His entire body tensed and his good eye darted from left to right so fast Eiji worried the boy would hurt himself.

They had no chance to run. The horses would chase them down easily enough. Eiji stood his ground, waiting for the monks to approach.

The white-robed figures pulled to a halt almost two dozen paces away. From one glance, Eiji suspected this exchange wouldn’t end peacefully. Their eyes gleamed with zeal.

“Nightblade!” The monk in the front shouted it as an address. “Surrender now and your death will be quick, a warrior’s death.”

Eiji had already taken their measure. None of them had a strong gift, and as they drew their swords, it appeared their training lacked rigor.

But perhaps some good could come out of this. He recognized two of the monks as those who had originally caught Isau, then run off to fight Koji. “What happened to the nightblade you just pursued?”

The speaker spat into the tall grass. “He ran, like the coward he was.”

Eiji looked more closely at the four monks. They appeared disheveled and tired, but none of them suffered from so much as a scratch. Koji had fled to protect the lives of his pursuers.

Eiji struggled to understand such honor.

It only made him want to find Koji more.

But the warrior had fled, leaving Eiji to chase ghosts once again, this time with a child following along.

Eiji swore again, then drew his sword as the four monks approached. He supposed if Koji had tried to let them live, he should do the same. He couldn’t flee with a child, but he could give them a chance. “You should leave here, now. Save your lives.”

The spokesman for the group snarled and leaped forward, his eyes blazing with hatred. They hadn’t found Koji, and Eiji would be the victim of their disappointment.

Eiji wasn’t Koji. If they attacked him, he would defend himself. Eiji sensed the strike. He knew where it would land. He moved and cut, avoiding the monk’s sword with ease as his own cut through flesh.

The leader fell and the final three attacked as one, rage overwhelming whatever fear and self-preservation they possessed.

Again, Eiji sensed where every cut would be. He slid between the attacking steel with ease, his own sword reaching out, an extension of his arm.

It shouldn’t have been easy.

The monks had the same gift Eiji had. But in this land, the gift was a curse, and very few were taught to use it well. For all their gifts, the monks fought as nothing more than skilled infantry.

And skilled infantry didn’t have a chance against a true nightblade.

The final three bodies fell, their fiery hate snuffed out by his sword.

Eiji wiped his weapon clean and turned to look at Isau.

“Thank you for protecting me,” he said with a bow.

Eiji grunted. The death of the monks meant trouble for him.

They would hunt him now.

Eiji changed their direction again, once again to the north.

Uncertainty punched him in the stomach. He’d been so close, and Koji had run again. Eiji didn’t even have a direction. His own chase continued, with no immediate end in sight. Usually, when Koji went quiet, he was impossible to track.

He stopped early in the evening, tired of walking without aim. They made a fire. Eiji suspected they didn’t have to worry about attacks for a few days, at least.

“Where are we going now?” asked Isau.

Eiji studied the boy. He trained hard, and he didn’t complain. Isau would make any master proud.

But Eiji had no desire for a student.

Although he knew plenty of blades who did.

“Would you train with the blades, even if it meant leaving everything you know behind?”

Isau weighed the decision, taking his time to answer.

“I would.”

“And if you could never return?”

Certainty settled in Isau’s features. “I would.”

Eiji considered. The journey, if made in haste, might only take a moon.

Perhaps it wasn’t too great a cost.

He sighed. “Tomorrow, we will head east and north. I can’t take you all the way to the blades, but I can bring you to the gateway where others can lead you to a place where the blades live in peace.”

Isau bowed all the way down, pressing his head into the dirt. Eiji hated such displays, but the boy didn’t know how else to show his gratitude. When he finished bowing, Eiji saw the excitement written plain on his face. “Thank you, Master!”

Eiji fell asleep easily that night, surprised at how well he slept.

In the morning he took inventory of his goods as he packed everything away. They would need more food for two people. But it shouldn't be too challenging.

They set off, Eiji leading them back to the same port where he had been left with nothing but some coin and the supplies in his pack.

He would take Isau to his new home.

Koji could wait.