The Wind and the Void (2 page)

Toro pushed his frustrated thoughts aside. The decision could be made later. He glanced with eagerness at the second letter. It bore Lord Akira’s seal and was written in his hand. Toro opened it carefully and found the contents to be much different than those of the first letter. Toro was surprised when he read it. Lord Akira was asking Toro to come home. Not the army, just Toro himself. He knew the next cycle would be a time of great struggle, and he wanted Toro by his side, helping him lead the fight against the Azarians.

The letter ended on a personal note, discussing Akira’s thoughts on his truce with Tanak. Toro couldn’t fault Akira for his decision to surrender. He wished there could have been a different outcome, but Toro wasn’t sure he could have done better. Lord Akira had made the best decision possible considering the circumstances. It wasn't ideal, but it gave them a chance to survive.

Toro gently put the letter down, scratching his long beard, lost in thought. The offer was a tempting one. It meant life instead of death, and his heart, still in love with the idea of a long life, begged him to take his lord up on his offer. It was easy to rationalize. He was the most experienced general in both the Western and Southern Kingdoms. His experience was invaluable. But the wiser part of Toro believed the decision and the order were wrong. He was not the best strategist in the Southern Kingdom. If a military solution to the problem facing them existed, it wouldn't come from him but from Makoto or Mashiro.

Toro believed a general needed to lead his army. It was a part of him, a belief which shaped his life. To abandon his army in the time of its greatest need would be tantamount to spiritual suicide. Even if only a part of his men stayed to defend the fort from the invading army, Toro knew he would remain with the men who stayed and fought. He could not ask any man to lay down his life if he wasn't willing to himself.

A single tear threatened to moisten Toro's cheek. He wiped it away dismissively, steeling himself for the reply he would have to make. Lord Akira’s offer, generous as it was, had solidified his decision. He lit a new candle, knowing there would be much to say in this letter. It would be the last he wrote to his lord, a man he almost considered a son. He had much to say, and he knew his time was running out. He trusted Lord Akira would be satisfied with his decision.

Toro got to work, writing his final letter. He found that with his decision made, his soul was more at rest than it had been for some time. He wrote until his candle burned low, and just as night and darkness threatened to overtake his tent, he snuffed it out himself.

Another morning came, and fewer of his men were alive to see it. After his daily stint on the wall, Toro went down to see the pyre lit for the men who had lost their lives in the night. Toro shook his head. Dying in your bedroll at night, sleeping, wasn’t the way to leave this life. A soldier should die with a blade in his hand, an enemy snarling in his face. This type of warfare had no honor.

Toro searched the faces around him as the pyre burned the bodies to ashes. The men were tense and afraid, more so than he had seen them before. He couldn’t blame them. He felt the same way they did. It was one thing to know you might die in battle the next day, but it was quite another to know, deep in your bones, that if you went to sleep there was a very real chance you might never wake up. It was the fear of the elderly instilled in the hearts of the young.

As he watched, Toro knew his men only had a few days of discipline left in them. Unless their circumstances changed, it wouldn’t be long before men tried to work their way back through the pass on their own. Here they died in their sleep having accomplished nothing. The worst part was, Toro couldn’t change their situation. Leading a sortie beyond the wall would be suicide and would accomplish nothing, but for now it was the only way to inflict damage on their foe. Toro cursed Nameless, the commander of the Azarians. With hunters, Nameless could pick off his men one by one until they broke. It took longer than a direct attack would have, but it risked far fewer lives. Taking Fort Azuma would be a bloody battle if Nameless used traditional means.

That afternoon a scout came back from the pass with news. Toro welcomed him into his tent. The scout was obviously cold, and icicles still hung from his uniform. “Sir, there is a blizzard in the pass. It seems likely to stay, sir.”

Toro considered the news. It was still early for the pass to have so much snow, but not unheard of. It opened up new possibilities for him. If the pass closed with snow early, no army would get through until spring, allowing the Three Kingdoms and Lord Akira more time to prepare a worthy defense after a summer full of war. Toro grinned maliciously. Nameless and his hunters might whittle down his men, but if they continued to take their time, they’d find their progress blocked by the pass itself.

“How much longer do we have?”

“Sir, we can’t be sure, but our best guess is three days, maybe less. After that, no army will be getting through the pass.”

Toro paced his tent. The scout came from a unit that specialized in the Three Sisters. They were older men, experienced in the ways of the mountains and their volatile weather. He had to trust their judgment. If they said three days, three days was all they had.

“Thank you. Make sure you get some warm food before heading back up.”

The scout looked grateful. “Yes, sir.”

Toro wandered the fort, studying his men carefully. They were determined, and they were proud, but they had never faced anything like the hunters before. Many of his men who weren’t on watch were sound asleep, grateful to sleep during the hours the sun shone overhead, protecting their slumber better than their fellow soldiers could at night. With a deep sigh, Toro made his decision. He called the commanders together.

“Gentlemen, the last few days have been tough on us all. I hate to see our men taken in such a cowardly fashion. However, as you all know, events to the north have been dramatic, shifting the balance of power back in the land we call home. Our new lord, Tanak, has ordered the First back up through the pass.”

Murmurs ran through the small group. Toro let them have a moment before he continued.

“It is clear to me politics are interfering with the safety of our kingdom. You all have seen the threat the Azarians pose. Too many of us have already paid the ultimate price, but Tanak would have us abandon our post, abandon the best defense of the Southern Kingdom.”

Toro’s voice had risen, and there were murmurs of anger matching his own. Toro let them stew for a moment before continuing, his tone now subdued.

“The fact is, gentlemen, as much as I wish it weren’t so, Fort Azuma is lost. I don’t question the bravery or the skill of our men, but these hunters are tearing us apart, and we are outnumbered ten to one, even without them. Even the most brilliant defense of this fort is doomed to fail. I won’t mislead you.”

“The good news is that the mountains themselves are on our side. As some of you may know, the pass is closing as we speak. Already the return will be treacherous. We only need to hold the enemy here for a day, maybe two, and we will succeed in giving the Three Kingdoms and Lord Akira enough time to mount a true defense of the land.”

“Gentlemen, serving as your general has been an honor. I couldn’t ask for a stronger, more honorable group of men. My orders are to march the First back to the Southern Kingdom, and I will see those orders fulfilled. Tomorrow morning I will officially order everyone north.”

The murmurs became louder, and Toro knew he had them in the palm of his hand.

“That being said, I will not be going with you. I intend to stay here on the walls and give my life to protect your retreat. I will be disobeying orders from my rightful lord, and the punishment for that is death. I expect there will be those who will dishonor my name, and that I accept. If anyone would like to desert with me and man these walls, I would be grateful. There may be a few too many Azarians for me to take on by myself.”

The joke was perfectly timed, causing a ripple of laughter to spread throughout the group. Toro would miss these men.

“Men, make it clear to everyone. If you stay with me, you will be considered deserters. That way, no one who returns will see trouble on our account. I don’t need many men. A few hundred should suffice. There is no dishonor in following orders and returning north. I expect each and every man of the First to show these Azarians what it means to be of the Southern Kingdom next spring. Make it clear that if they stay, there won’t be any return. We will pay the price for desertion here in this fort. Are there any questions?”

The men looked at one another, silent. It began with one of the men near the front, who bowed all the way to the ground, his forehead against the cold ground of the fort. One by one the other men followed, until every man in the room had his face pressed against the earth. Toro looked out over them all and a tear came to his eye. At the end of his life he was proud. The Three Kingdoms were strong, filled with good, strong people like those before him. The Azarians would never win. Toro returned the gesture, holding his bow until every man had silently left the room.

Toro watched as the last of his men marched up the pass. It had been an orderly march, if one of the most heartbreaking he had ever observed. With him stood over three hundred men, those of the First who had elected to stay behind. There had been many partings, each of them made bittersweet by the knowledge they would never see each other again. Toro himself had wandered the camp almost all of yesterday, saying goodbye to each of the men. He was proud of them all, but none more than those who stayed behind.

He turned and looked over the men, grouped in formation. He had already assigned a command structure to them. Each of them knew what to do and who to report to. They would fight to the last man. Some had stayed to protect families. Some had stayed for honor, some for revenge, and a few because they felt they had nothing left to lose. Toro thought he should say something powerful, but found he couldn’t speak without breaking down. So he nodded once instead. His men understood, and they went to the walls.

Toro had wondered how Nameless would react to so many of the First leaving the fort, and he didn’t have long to wait to find out. That afternoon Azarian clans lined up to march towards the fort. Toro stood with his men. His armor shone in the cold sunlight. Today he was no more than another soldier. Today they were all bowmen, all swordsmen. When the charge commenced, Toro looked from side to side and said, “To protect our brothers.”

The saying was passed up and down the line. The men drew their bowstrings back, and at Toro’s command, the defense of Fort Azuma began.

The Azarians had little battle discipline. That had always been true, as long as Toro had fought them. But what they lacked in discipline they made up in bravery. Once they began their charge, they broke formation, each running fearlessly into danger. Toro launched his first arrow, and it was joined by hundreds of others, dark streaks of death against the blue sky. Azarians fell, but it made no difference as they ran for the walls. Toro and his men launched another flight just as an answering flight came up from the Azarian archers. While Toro’s arrows came down on the Azarians in waves, their response was individual, each archer trying their luck against the soldiers of the First.

Men started to fall to each side of Toro, but most were protected by the stone of the fort. When the first Azarians started climbing the walls, a handful of men laid down their bows and picked up rocks to drop on them. Stone was plentiful in the pass, and a well-dropped heavy stone could take out two or three climbers.

It was only a matter of time before the sheer number of attackers overwhelmed Toro’s troops. When climbers reached the top they would throw down ropes to assist others. Toro dropped his bow and drew his sword, rushing from place to place on the wall, hacking at ropes and slicing at opponents. Dozens of his men stood behind him in the courtyard of the fort, sending arrows into the Azarians who made it over the top of the walls.

Time blurred until it became meaningless. There was only the space in front of him. Twice, three times, the Azarians managed to get a foothold on the walls, and each time Toro’s men surged forward in response. But each time there were fewer and fewer men to answer the calls for aid. Toro could hardly see the steel of his blade, it was covered in so much blood.

Evening fell early in the valley, and at first Toro was confused when there was no one left to fight. When his wits returned, he heard the call of the horn and saw the Azarians retreating for the evening. He was grateful. He had worried that Nameless knew the pass was closing. If he did, he would have never stopped, even if they had lost the light. Time was on Toro’s side. If they could hold out for one more day, they would stop the Azarian invasion in its tracks.

The price had been high. Of the three hundred or so who had begun the fight, not even a hundred remained. Toro looked with pleasure at the Azarian bodies on the plains, but even though Toro’s men had acquitted themselves well, they had barely reduced the sheer number of warriors Nameless had at his disposal.

That night the men were quiet around the fires. None of them would sleep that night. Between the combat and the fear of hunters, each would stay awake, maybe drifting off just for a moment or two before their partner next to them gently nudged them.

Toro worried the hunters would come to finish the siege, but it seemed that Nameless was holding them back. Toro wasn’t sure why, but he was grateful. That night they rested undisturbed around the fires. Their food was simple, most of the supplies having gone back with the First, but it was still the best Toro remembered tasting.

He took in every breath, focusing only on the present moment. It was a beautiful moment, resting around a fire with the men he would die with tomorrow. They all knew, and all shared a look of calm acceptance. Above them, the stars were clear, and Toro could easily pick out the soldier and the princess, his favorite sets of stars. It was as much as he could have asked for on his final evening alive.