CHAPTER ELEVEN—TRAVELLER

One Year Ago

Evening had come upon him. Shiro had walked the entire day, taking breaks every few hours to rest on the side of the road where there were trees, and sometimes there were even rocks to sit.

Once he got into town, he would need to find a place to stay. The family had no money to spare, so hadn’t given him any. He would most likely be sleeping under a tree or against a wall somewhere, unfortunately.

He needed to find a way to make some money.

Only one of his water skins was used, so he began to drink more, realizing there were more roadside travellers now. He was getting close to the city, and thought he could see light coming from the hills beyond the blue-night horizon. The stars shone bright, but since the moon was slim, he could see the lights of Oravar in the coming darkness.

From behind, he heard the patter of footfalls from beyond the road. Here, there was a depression, so he could not see over the hills.

In this strange place, with no one to turn to, Shiro was on his guard. In a way he was terrified. What could happen in this strange land, who could he meet. What evils lie in wait for travellers that he didn’t know off because he was gaijin—a foreigner?

In my own lands, monsters are not uncommon. I need to be vigilant.

Just his sword alone was worth stealing. But he kept it covered, holding it in his hand. Hopefully it simply looked like a stick instead of a wrapped parcel he was trying to keep unseen.

A distant creature called in the night. A long, moaning call that sounded eerie and lonely at the same time. Not a wolf, but similar?

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Perhaps there were like animals in the deserts of these lands.

But now he wasn’t in the desert so much as the farmlands surrounding the city. There had been streams and fields of green grass and crops, and farmers toiling in those fields.

Even so, he did not see many people.

That pattering from above came again. Shiro narrowed his eyes. Those creatures were near, surely. He unwrapped the hilt of his katana, ready to slice the beasts in two should they attempt to attack him.

He could skin them, take their hides to the city and exchange them for coin. What a good idea. Then he might sleep in a secure place!

The pattering was close.

These animals were brave.

Shiro was about to reveal his blade, when a man in black clothing came over the ridge. His trousers were voluminous, his feet sandaled up to his calves and upon his face, he had a cloth concealing his identity.

What alarmed Shiro the most was the curved blade in his hand.

He pulled the cloth off his blade.

In the little moonlight there was, the high quality steel glinted. The man gestured to Shiro with his sword, said some words he didn’t understand.

Angling his sword forward with his elbow held high, Shiro cursed. “Come for me, you dog—if you dare I’ll spill your guts where you stand!” He called the threat in as intimidating a voice he could. But he didn’t need to try. Shiro was afraid, and outraged at the same time.

Normally he would almost welcome a challenger, but in this strange place, he knew nothing of the local peoples, their abilities with blades, what their motives were. Perhaps he wanted to skin Shiro and make a magic book out of his hides or perform some other terrible deed upon him.

Does he have friends in the hills?

He glanced about with his eyes, keeping his ears attuned to his surroundings.

The man with the sword came forward.

And then Shiro heard the others approaching from behind. He did not turn. He moved forward, keeping his sword held high, defensively, ready to deliver a razor sharp death slash to this bandit.

The others—two of them it sounded like—came up close from behind him. Shiro spun with a slash of his katana, his blade glancing off the sword of the other, then he came in with another slash and took the man down with one strike across his chest.

Spinning, he addressed his other attacker and exchanged parries with him.

This first attacker was more skilled.

He must be their leader!

“COME AT ME, FOOLS!”