A Dagger in the Light

World of Myth X

A Dagger in the Light

Travis Bughi

Copyright 2019 Travis Bughi

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9780463294918

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Dedication

To my son, Darian.

May you always know my love.

Acknowledgements

Patricia Hamill for the editing

World of Myth Series

Emily’s Saga

Beyond the Plains

The Forest of Angor

The Fall of Lucifan

Journey to Savara

Juatwa

A Legend Ascends

Takeo’s Chronicles

Fated for War

An Enchanted Sword

Fortress of Ruin

A Dagger in the Light

Battle for Redemption

A Legend Falls

Prologue

All in all, Aiguo Mein honestly believed he led a good life. Not by any moral sense of the word, but in a much more measurable way—wealth and power.

He’d been born on the wrong side of the table as a poor peasant conscripted into a daimyo’s army at the ripe old age of able-bodied male. His purpose in life had been to fall on a samurai’s sword, helping to wear out such a seasoned veteran’s stamina, so other samurai could kill that individual in the name of honor and glory. If Aiguo resisted, the punishment would be death. If he ran, the punishment would be death. If he complained? Well, they’d probably have killed him anyway.

The problem had been complicated further by the fact that he wasn’t much of a fighter, as he quickly learned during his first few training sessions. Not that his superiors had cared. That just meant he’d be the first in. They had shoved a spear in his hand, slung a backpack of dried rations on his back, and shouted an order in his ear. There was a war to win.

He’d had but one saving grace: His mother had taught him his letters.

Once this was discovered, he had been promoted from meatbag to running meatbag. He became the army messenger so coveted by every ninja lurking in the forests. He could take solace in the fact that he was no longer expected to fight and that his upcoming death would be grim yet interesting. He might even be lucky enough to die with a look of surprise on his face, assuming he saw his killer coming, which he wouldn’t. No ninja could fail when it came to killing young Aiguo Mein.

Yet then an angel had arrived, or rather an angel from Aiguo’s perspective. She’d had dark hair, darker beauty, and an even darker soul. His own shogun’s wife, a woman named Heliena, as it happened to be, and she’d shown Aiguo so many things he’d never known. Things like torture and revenge, and how suffering could be fun when inflicted on others. He wondered what else she might have taught him if only she’d survived. Her teachings had left him quite prepared to follow Jabbar and the reckoning that rakshasa had brought upon the world.

And so Aiguo had risen from peasant to conscript, from conscript to messenger, and from messenger to henchman. There’d been a slight hiccup when Jabbar had died, but Aiguo was back on top of the world now. From his perspective, he was sitting on the right side of the table once more, the side of a powerful, if crippled, rakshasa. It was the side with a loyal army of thousands of samurai waiting to slaughter his enemies. The side with a shogun who carried all the malice and contempt needed to ensure victory. Aiguo claimed the title of samurai, owned land, ate well, and slept easily. He was no longer a ninja’s target or a throat to be stepped on by royalty. He was valued, useful, and compensated properly. Yes, indeed, Aiguo had led a good life.

The only problem was that on the opposite end of the table sat a terrifying ronin with eyes black as night, a face carved of stone, and an uncanny knack for upsetting all of Aiguo’s hard work and sacrifice. Worse yet, that ronin wanted him dead.

However, that wouldn’t be a problem for much longer. Not with the information he’d just received.

Aiguo whistled his joy as he strolled down the neat rows of army tents. The aforementioned samurai army that waited to slaughter his enemies was milling about along his path, cleaning weapons, playing cards, or carrying out their duties. The typical army stench wasn’t so bad as the Nguyen family enforced a strict hygiene policy on their men. This army was also far less rowdy than the one Ichiro Katsu had led and certainly more hospitable than the band of mercenaries Jabbar had cobbled together. Aiguo had to admit, Lady Xuan had put together quite the professional flock of murderers.

Hopefully, one of them will be lucky enough to put a blade through Takeo, Aiguo mused aloud. What was that she was fond of saying? Let others do unto themselves? I think she meant, let others do your killing for you.

A soldier walked by and nearly ran into him. Only by stopping short did he keep them from colliding, and only then did the woman finally turn and realize his existence. She took one look at him, not recognizing his face, but noting the ranked insignia of his clothing, and her jaw fell open.

Sir, I apologize, she began. I didn’t see you.

She started to ramble, but Aiguo just grunted and trudged on, leaving her flabbergasted. He wasn’t worried about the rudeness of his actions. She’d soon forget him; they always did. Such was the wish he’d been granted in that cave so many years ago.

Once upon a time, he’d wondered why the jinni had never cursed him along with granting his wish. The ability to pass unseen among strangers, friends, and enemies, surely such a thing would require a hefty price? And yet the jinni had granted him this ability with no consequence—or he should say, no added consequence. He understood now that his request had been a curse. Once, he’d dreamed of escaping Jabbar or Jabbar’s enemies, whichever came for him first, but now all he wished for was to be recognized every once in a while. It was damned near impossible to command when one’s subordinates forgot what their leader had said or whom their leader was. Sure, it was nice to know he could never be a ninja’s target, but it was horribly inconvenient to have every servant forget his orders the moment they left his sight. From the miserably inconvenient meal request to the terribly important, newly arrived guest, Aiguo was constantly reminding people he was still here and needed to be heard.

Honestly, he was lucky Qadir could remember him by scent. Otherwise, he might have been forgotten altogether.

The irony of it all, he thought. I wished myself to be free of a rakshasa, and now I need one just to be remembered.

However, Aiguo still felt he’d led a good life. His gift did have its perks. He could insult anyone he wished, he could rob in plain sight, and he could have any woman he was strong enough to hold down. So long as he slipped away quickly, his victims would forget his face and sometimes even the deed itself. Despite his troubles, Aiguo had more allies than enemies. In fact, he only had one enemy.

Too bad that enemy was Takeo Karaoshi.

Qadir will be pleased to hear this. He won’t forget what I have to say. Not this time.

In the center of the army lay the command tent. Large and encapsulated with regal flags and ornate displays of wealth, it was easy to spot, which was just the way Lord Pircha preferred things. As far as the shogun was concerned, the burden of lugging so much heavy décor around Juatwa was worth people knowing just how far above the lowly soldier he sat. So what if this hindered their chasing Lady Zhenzhen’s generals from one bloody battle to the next? It didn’t bother him that he was made a target by such displays or that he was exhausting supplies and troops or that he alienated himself from his own men. Such things weren’t vices, but his birthright, and he’d be damned before he was denied them for the slightest moment. The only thing that mattered to him was that their army was winning battles, and it was all thanks to the infamous strategic ability of one crippled rakshasa.

As Aiguo approached the tent, he knew he should have been allowed to pass the guard unhindered—he was Qadir’s right hand, after all—but he was also a realist.

He stopped just shy of the guard, letting their commands to halt wash over him. They glared at him, demanded his business, and blinked a few times at his name. Slowly the recognition returned to them, like waking from a deep slumber, and they apologized. He could tell they weren’t fully trusting, despite having seen him before, but they weren’t informed enough to stop him. Aiguo heard the all too familiar words of wonder at how they could have forgotten him, and then he was allowed to pass after surrendering his weapon.

Into the tent he went, and the heat nearly knocked him off his feet.

Lord Pircha Nguyen, despite being a rather rotund individual, had a terrible habit of being cold. He whined like a resentful wife: The kind Aiguo had had before he’d ripped out her tongue thanks to Lady Heliena’s encouragement. The kind that griped every winter and even half the summer. The kind that insisted a large fire be built to satisfy one’s self-importance.

The heat was always staggering, even for Aiguo, who’d spent a good portion of his adult life in the sunsoaked sands of Savara. Yet Aiguo knew better than to question a shogun and so pushed aside the itching feeling of sweat as it began to collect on his body. He bowed low the moment he walked inside even as he took in the scene.

The tent had four other souls present, three of which were human, all surrounding a map laid out on a short table. In the center sat the shogun, Lord Pircha, on a pile of plush pillows. His regal kimono flowed out to cover his excess girth, yet Pircha still found a way to let his size weigh upon them all. His chin was forever tilted up, and his upper lip was prone to curl at any moment as if smelling something distasteful everywhere he went. The man never sat on the ground, or even on wood, if the situation could be helped. He blamed old age or his wife or his children or his children’s children, but Aiguo could never pin down why. It was true Lord Pircha was a grandfather, but that never stopped him from going on morning rides around the camp or spending lengthy nights in the company of several concubines, and he hadn’t seen any of his offspring in quite some time.

Aiguo wasn’t particularly bothered by any of this, though. He’d served worse.

To Lord Pircha’s right and left sat two of his brothers, specifically the two that were not directly in line for the throne. They were fathers themselves with wives and children in the care of Lord Pircha’s armed and loyal servants back at Pircha’s private estate. They weren’t as heavyset as their older brother, but one was working on it intently as he ate away on a slab of komainu meat that should have served a family of three.

The trio of brothers gave Aiguo hard stares, and he bowed to them as low as gravity permitted.

However, it was the fourth soul that made Aiguo’s blood rise: a rakshasa. A large creature with orange fur broken by black stripes, he sat on his hind quarters and towered over them all. His long, thin tail swished about the air—a sign of agitation that Aiguo knew all too well—while the beast’s whiskers flickered as he held back a snarl.

One look from such a creature was enough to make men weak with fear as the feeling that they were being inspected like livestock crept down their spine. There was always a hint in their yellow eyes that they wanted you to run as if to make things more interesting. Most who gazed on Qadir for the first time didn’t even notice that his right hand was missing four fingers or even that his right foot was gone altogether.

But Aiguo knew. He’d watched it happen, and it was for Qadir that Aiguo brought forth this news.

My lords, Aiguo spoke from his bowed position. It is a pleasant day. I bring good tidings.

One of Pircha’s brothers snorted, though Aiguo couldn’t see which from his bowed position. He had to remain lower than his lords until given permission to rise. Experience told him this wouldn’t be anytime soon.

The balls on this one, one brother said. Speaking casually as if he knows us. Has our rank and file really lost such respect for their superiors?

My lords, this is Aiguo Mein, Qadir said, voice rumbling from deep in his stomach.

There was a quiet pause, the kind Aiguo had come to hate. Lord Pircha was the first to come to his senses.

Ah yes, how could I forget? he said. Your lackey.

He ended the sentence abruptly as if he’d intended to go on, but as tradition dictated that he only deliver his message when asked, Aiguo knew better than to speak up. In front of any other daimyo, this would have occurred immediately, but Pircha seemed to be enjoying the awkward silence. Aiguo could only assume Pircha was trying to embarrass him by making him stay bowed over, but Aiguo was undisturbed. He’d perfected the art of bowing for long periods, such that he was quite comfortable. And as for embarrassment, well, such a feeling required a sense of pride and self-worth. Aiguo didn’t deal in such flimsy things as one’s reputation. Despite what the poets said, knives cut deeper than opinions.

Qadir came to his aid or, more likely, grew horribly bored of the situation.

My lords, the rakshasa said.

Aiguo could sense how much it pained the creature to speak those words. Qadir didn’t think any human was worthy of such a title, but the rakshasa’s intelligence was greater than his pride, and he understood Pircha would act foolishly if addressed any other way.

Perhaps we should get on with this? he continued. Let’s hear my lackey out so we can continue discussing Takeo. If he truly is with Lord Nobu, then we must assume he’ll be in some sort of advisory role. We must plan for this.

Lord Pircha scoffed, and Aiguo tilted his head to catch sight of him sharing a grin with his brothers.

That lowly ronin, commanding an army? the brother with the meat slab said, not bothering to swallow as he spoke. Lady Zhenzhen wouldn’t dare. All the daimyo under her banner would turn on her.

I could defeat him, Brother, the other said to Pircha. Give me command, and I’ll crush that ronin. He will be easy to outsmart.

Lord Pircha was smiling, seeing his kin vie for his approval, but Aiguo was watching the most important soul in that room, and that individual’s tail flicked back and forth.

Easy to defeat, you say? Qadir said more than asked. I’ll bet Lord Botan thought the same thing.

That wiped the smile off the lords’ faces, and Aiguo had to drop his head to hide a smirk. He could imagine the veins popping out of their chubby necks at such a comment, but Qadir wasn’t in the mood to hold back. The rakshasa was growing quite weary of Lord Pircha’s ineptitude. The whining, the complaining, the boasting—all were cause enough to kill him—but most importantly, the shogun’s inability to make sound decisions.

Need I remind you what that lowly ronin is capable of? Qadir asked and then held up his right hand, missing every finger but the thumb. Or this? He pointed to his missing foot. Or need I bring up your late mother, who was murdered in her own throneroom, surrounded by armed guards?

All the help you were then, the brother with the meat slab murmured.

Qadir’s whiskers twitched, and Aiguo’s heart skipped. The dense lord, however, didn’t seem to notice.

And how could I help? Qadir said carefully, his voice taught with restraint. Crippled as I am? Don’t think I hate him any less than you—even more so, I’d argue. He took everything I earned, from my power to my mate, the one thing essential to continuing my species. He could kill her at any moment, the scum, and I could not stop him. Do you know what that’s like as a rakshasa? To feel powerless? To feel fear? I never did. Not even when I was being hunted down. I don’t want to admit it any more than you do, my lords, but taking Takeo Karaoshi lightly is a grave mistake. He’s proven that many times over.

The depth of that short speech, Aiguo thought. What it says cannot be understated. For a rakshasa to set aside his pride and take a human seriously? I’ve only seen this once before when Jabbar set sail to challenge the Angels’ Vassal. Hopefully history does not repeat itself.

How relevant that you mention the ronin, Aiguo said, making a strong effort not to call the rakshasa a lord lest he insult the brothers. He’s precisely who I came to inform you about.

Qadir didn’t look pleased until his ears perked at the positive tone in Aiguo’s words. The rakshasa turned slowly, as did the others. Aiguo remained bowed.

Well then, Lord Pircha commanded. Out with it.

As if I’ve been the one keeping you waiting this whole time, you wretched, fat man. I can’t wait until Qadir kills you.

I’ve received word from someone in the Hanu ranks, someone close to Takeo, Aiguo said. He has lost his enchanted sword.

All four balked, and the room went deathly still.

What? Lord Pircha stuttered unhelpfully.

Are you certain? Qadir pressed, leaning forward. His yellow eyes were dilated. How do you know?

It is as I said, Aiguo replied. Someone close to Takeo has turned on him. They reached out through a group of ninjas to us, and it just so happened I was the one to receive the news.

But how do you know it’s true? Qadir snarled.

I asked them to describe the sword that Takeo carries now, Aiguo said, and, interestingly enough, it doesn’t match my vivid memory. However, and this is truly something, it’s come to my knowledge that Lord Botan has recently been seen carrying a long, black-handled katana of simple, efficient design. I’ll be sending our spies out to confirm both rumors, but suffice it to say, this sounds promising.

A moment of stunned silence passed, and then Qadir’s lips parted, hinting at the rows of thick, canine teeth, which could bite so cleanly through any flesh. A wave of relief washed through the tent, easing the tension in the air, whether they were secure enough to admit it or not. Aiguo was elated to see such a change in his true lord’s mood.

Ha! Lord Pircha shouted. Is it not like I said? That stupid ronin couldn’t even keep hold of his enchanted sword. We’ll make a mockery of that idiot.

More like Qadir will, Aiguo quietly huffed. You couldn’t win a battle to save your life. Didn’t you personally lead your army to utter defeat after your mother crushed both the former shogun of the Hanu and Katsu armies? It is only thanks to this rakshasa’s natural genius that you haven’t been crushed yet, and it’s only thanks to your mother’s strong influence in life that you weren’t overthrown upon her death.

When Lady Xuan was killed, Pircha might very well have been assassinated next were it not for Qadir. Lady Zhenzhen, eager to embarrass her former captors, had sent several large armies into Nguyen territory following the old woman’s death. She had intended to subdue the Nguyen family quickly and thus use their manpower to defeat the more superior Katsu army. Her strategy would have been sound enough, against a human, but she had not anticipated the intellect of a rakshasa.

What was to come had become laughably predictable. With his brothers and Qadir as advisors, Lord Pircha had placed himself in charge of the army. The trio of men would come up with a haphazard plan, which Qadir would immediately counter, and an argument would ensue. Qadir would stake his life on it, and Lord Pircha would capitulate on the condition that if they lost it would be on the beast’s head. They would then win, resoundingly, and Lord Pircha would claim all the credit. Slowly but surely, they’d beaten back the Hanu forces and were now poised to invade.

Aiguo knew precisely why Qadir would stay silent after each victory.

Lords, this changes everything, Qadir said softly, as if speaking to himself. Everything.

Heads turned to see the creature staring down at his missing paw.

We have an opportunity before us, he continued. One we cannot miss. As we know, Lady Zhenzhen is sending her son to the remaining Hanu army with which we are to do battle. Takeo Karaoshi is rumored to be with them, and he is vulnerable once again. In addition, we have a traitor in his ranks. The goal has changed. No longer are we aiming to win the coming battle. Instead, our sole objective is to slay the ronin.

The brothers balked, with Lord Pircha scoffing and furrowing his eyebrows.

That’s preposterous, the shogun said. He’s powerless now. We defeat the Hanus; we defeat him. It’s that simple.

No, Qadir said, whiskers flaring.

Lord Pircha’s face went bright red at the rakshasa’s tone, but the beast had had enough of the shogun, as well. He pressed on before the former said something foolish.

You don’t seem to understand the gravity of this situation, my lord, Qadir said. Look at my hand. Look carefully. I am a rakshasa, and this was done to me by a human. Crippled as I am, I couldn’t even kill the ronin now if I saw him on the battlefield. And you don’t honestly think his sword was the only thing that kept Lord Botan at bay, do you? One sword versus an army of thousands? No, Lord Pircha, no. Takeo is the Hanus’ only hope. Even their wretched oni allies are nothing more than an obstacle to be surmounted. To win the war, Takeo must die. The battle is irrelevant.

A soft hum issued from Qadir’s throat, and his body pulsed as if he’d been running. A silence fell over the tent, broken only by the warm crackle of the fire nearby, and Aiguo was no longer sweating from the heat.

Ichiro Katsu, Jabbar, Lady Xuan, Lord Botan, Qadir said, then glanced at his missing foot. Myself. The evidence is there. Takeo is not to be taken lightly.

So how do we do that? the brother with the meat slab asked. "How will you succeed where they failed? Where you failed?"

Always the responsibility, the blame, falls to another with these brothers, Aiguo thought. Typical.

We use what no one else had before, Qadir replied and then nodded to Aiguo. This informant claims to be close to the ronin?

Very close, Aiguo replied.

Rumors say that Takeo Karaoshi has never had a friend, Qadir continued, yet it seems he does now. It’s simple, my lords. We use this new tool. We strike Takeo not from the shadows from which he was born, but instead from the light. It is a place he does not know. It is where he will die.

Chapter 1

In his heart, Takeo Karaoshi could not deny the feeling of raw power that surged through his legs as they rubbed against pure muscle. Komainu were incredibly fast, notoriously deadly, and rightfully feared by villager and soldier alike. Riding one was considered a privilege of the highest degree, and yet Takeo was not enjoying himself. Riding a komainu was not a simple thing. The creatures, even when trained, had little concern for their riders. They leapt huge distances in a single bound, dodged rocks and trees at breakneck speeds, and ran in a fashion wholly unsuited for the one mounted on their backs. Untrained riders were prone to being thrown off, at best, or breaking a limb, at worst. Takeo, with what little training he’d had, was faring okay, but Gavin Shaw was having a terrible time.

Ah! Branch, ah! the knight shouted, ducking just a split second before a tree decapitated him. You stupid animal. Slow down!

Takeo was in the lead, both hands buried firmly into the komainu’s thick mane because he didn’t trust the reins not to give. He and the knight had precious little time to do their business. The others thought that they’d gone out for a joyride, and Takeo wanted to keep it that way.

Are we almost there? Gavin shouted, bouncing up and down. Please, tell me we’re almost—Ack!

Gavin ducked the next branch, but the leaves caught him in the face. It was probably from pure shock he didn’t lose his grip.

Less talking, more holding, Takeo yelled back. We don’t know how long he’ll be there. We have to hurry.

You know this is probably a trap, right? Gavin replied.

Not a chance, Takeo said. He would never be so direct.

The komainu panted and flung drool in giant gobs along their path. Massive paws with knife-like claws tore apart ground, roots and flowers alike. Nothing was safe, not even Takeo, who clung tightly to the beast’s back as his hair streamed in the air. At his side, his katana bounced against his leg and clattered loudly.

No, not my katana. I don’t have my katana anymore.

Takeo sighted the clearing up ahead, a clear sign that their tumultuous gallop was coming to an end. To Takeo’s eye, the way was a wall of trees, no way for his komainu to pass through, but his massive beast never broke its stride.

Yet he trusted the komainu. Gavin, however, wasn’t so certain.

Takeo, is that it? the knight yelled. Takeo, the trees. The trees!

Gavin yelped as both komainu leapt into the air, directly at the trees, and pounced off the thickest branches they could find. The knight screamed as they soared skyward; the battering rams of flesh, blood, and teeth crashed through frail branches and leaves, slamming into the clearing on paws larger than a man’s head.

Their halt was so swift it nearly flung the riders. A moment crept by, and Takeo took a deep breath and lifted his head, shaking a leaf that had caught in his hair. Beneath him, the komainu was sweating and panting hard from its run, its body pulsing with excitement. The beast, no doubt hinging on bloodlust, was only restrained by the years of discipline whipped into it.

Nearby, Gavin was panting just as hard.

How’s your heart? Takeo asked.

Fine, fine, in my throat, but fine, Gavin replied, shook his head, and blinked several times. He leaned over his mount’s neck and stared at it with wide eyes. You know, when I left Lucifan, the hardest thing to give up was riding a pegasus again. I thought to myself, ‘Never again will I know such a thing. Surely nothing could be more thrilling?’ He paused and touched an accusing finger to the komainu’s back. I was wrong. Now I know something much more dangerous, and I miss my pegasus more than ever. Gavin took his hand away from the komainu and made a rude gesture. Damned thing tried to kill me.

Takeo smirked. Honestly, you did well. I think it’s only thanks to your pegasus training that you made it this far. Why do you think I didn’t ask Nicholas to come? Tough as he pretends to be, he’d have been tossed aside halfway through the ride.

Oh? And here I thought you brought me along for my good judgment.

I brought you because you’re pretty.

Gavin laughed, his infectious chuckles breaking apart the slight breeze that rustled through the surrounding forest.

Takeo took a moment to survey the area, motioning his komainu forward at a meandering pace. The wide clearing they occupied was one of the many in this region of Juatwa, hard to find and so often used by the mobile ninja clans. The beast lumbered about, sniffing the ground and prying up countless scents only it understood. If given an item by Takeo to sniff, it could track that scent to the ends of the world.

I do believe we’re early, Takeo said. I don’t see him anywhere.

Well, isn’t that just great, Gavin retorted. I’m pleased to know we did all that rushing for nothing.

The knight dismounted, sliding down the beast’s side to place his feet on solid ground. The komainu took this opportunity to flop down on its side and stretch out, yawning wide with claws extended. Its tongue flopped out of its cavernous mouth. Gavin grimaced and backed away.

So, he started. This is the place, huh? This is where it all started.

No, Takeo replied, but this was the point of no return.

"Where did