midnight?”
Moon. Gonji briefly wondered whether the thief, if indeed he was a thief, had found a way to somersault out of this trap. But then his thoughts were otherwise engaged.
“My life has always pointed toward such an end, if it be ended here.”
The knight seemed to ponder something before speaking again. “It needn’t, you know. We’ve observed your progress for some time now. Since you first entered the valley. I’m sure you know that forces are at war here. You’ve meddled, without making clear your intentions or your sympathies.”
“I wish only to continue on my way.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You’ve angered the Archmage, trifled in his business, weakened his defenses by your knowledge of their operation. You have, then, two choices: Join this mercenary company that was formed of men similarly recruited, or remain here for the imminent descent of the Moonspinner. You have little time to decide. Midnight approaches.”
“I need no time to decide,” Gonji replied steadfastly. “I am ronin. For now, I choose to serve no master. The choice reverts to you.”
The knight blinked at Gonji’s boldness. “You are an unusual warrior.”
“I am samurai. You will not find our like anywhere on this continent.”
“Your words are filled with bravado, senor …samurai. Yet I wonder if you truly understand the meaning of valor. I see that you are interested in the armor I wear. Have you ever seen armor like it? It has wonderful properties. No weapon can penetrate it.”
“I know something of this…Armor of Valor,” Gonji noted. “Like most sorcerous working, it relies heavily on the faith and courage of the user.”
“Very good,” the knight said, riding up beside Gonji with a confident demeanor. “And it has served me well, even as well as I have respected its spell. See here.” He pointed to a spot on his breastplate. “The tiny pockmark? A bold-speaking bandit’s pistol, fired from just about the distance between us now.” He let the implication hang in the air a moment.
Gonji never took his eyes from his adversary’s. “The pistol is a poor weapon to use against so worthy an armor.”
The night’s eyebrows lifted. “And do you bear a stronger weapon?”
With reverence, Gonji drew the Sagami. “This goodly steel has struck righteously against both man and beast, sorcerer and demon. But I’ll spare you its edge, if you let me ride on uncontested.”
The knight was stung by the implied insult. His eyes narrowed and his head tilted in amazement. From his look, he might have just been told that his mother and father were sister and brother.
“Strike, then,” he rasped in a tremulous voice.
Gonji hesitated, then shockingly rotated his blade over his head in a broad, torso-twisting slash that ended against the knight’s right pauldron. He froze at the end of the motion for a long moment, the Sagami’s gleaming edge jammed to the knight’s shoulder. Their eyes never broke contact.
Slowly, the samurai drew his blade away, and the young knight’s defiant smile faded. A thin line of blood traced the Sagami from mid-blade to point, although no mark could be seen on the knight’s armored shoulder.
Gonji replaced his katana without cleansing it. He spoke just above a whisper: “I do not wish to shame you. I know this sorcery born of faith, and my faith is no weaker than your own. I stayed my blow short of killing you.”
The knight’s look of horrified disbelief was fleeting. He replaced his burgonet and wheeled his steed.
“He chooses to face the Moonspinner,” he shouted to his charges. Laughter and catcalls came Gonji’s way. “Hurry now, before we become entangled in her web.”
They spread out and rumbled off the way they had come, scattering uphill, still in their widely spaced ring, receding from Gonji with that same bizarre spatial distortion that had marked their approach. But they stopped and turned on the surrounding hilltops, and he could see
Moon. Gonji briefly wondered whether the thief, if indeed he was a thief, had found a way to somersault out of this trap. But then his thoughts were otherwise engaged.
“My life has always pointed toward such an end, if it be ended here.”
The knight seemed to ponder something before speaking again. “It needn’t, you know. We’ve observed your progress for some time now. Since you first entered the valley. I’m sure you know that forces are at war here. You’ve meddled, without making clear your intentions or your sympathies.”
“I wish only to continue on my way.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You’ve angered the Archmage, trifled in his business, weakened his defenses by your knowledge of their operation. You have, then, two choices: Join this mercenary company that was formed of men similarly recruited, or remain here for the imminent descent of the Moonspinner. You have little time to decide. Midnight approaches.”
“I need no time to decide,” Gonji replied steadfastly. “I am ronin. For now, I choose to serve no master. The choice reverts to you.”
The knight blinked at Gonji’s boldness. “You are an unusual warrior.”
“I am samurai. You will not find our like anywhere on this continent.”
“Your words are filled with bravado, senor …samurai. Yet I wonder if you truly understand the meaning of valor. I see that you are interested in the armor I wear. Have you ever seen armor like it? It has wonderful properties. No weapon can penetrate it.”
“I know something of this…Armor of Valor,” Gonji noted. “Like most sorcerous working, it relies heavily on the faith and courage of the user.”
“Very good,” the knight said, riding up beside Gonji with a confident demeanor. “And it has served me well, even as well as I have respected its spell. See here.” He pointed to a spot on his breastplate. “The tiny pockmark? A bold-speaking bandit’s pistol, fired from just about the distance between us now.” He let the implication hang in the air a moment.
Gonji never took his eyes from his adversary’s. “The pistol is a poor weapon to use against so worthy an armor.”
The night’s eyebrows lifted. “And do you bear a stronger weapon?”
With reverence, Gonji drew the Sagami. “This goodly steel has struck righteously against both man and beast, sorcerer and demon. But I’ll spare you its edge, if you let me ride on uncontested.”
The knight was stung by the implied insult. His eyes narrowed and his head tilted in amazement. From his look, he might have just been told that his mother and father were sister and brother.
“Strike, then,” he rasped in a tremulous voice.
Gonji hesitated, then shockingly rotated his blade over his head in a broad, torso-twisting slash that ended against the knight’s right pauldron. He froze at the end of the motion for a long moment, the Sagami’s gleaming edge jammed to the knight’s shoulder. Their eyes never broke contact.
Slowly, the samurai drew his blade away, and the young knight’s defiant smile faded. A thin line of blood traced the Sagami from mid-blade to point, although no mark could be seen on the knight’s armored shoulder.
Gonji replaced his katana without cleansing it. He spoke just above a whisper: “I do not wish to shame you. I know this sorcery born of faith, and my faith is no weaker than your own. I stayed my blow short of killing you.”
The knight’s look of horrified disbelief was fleeting. He replaced his burgonet and wheeled his steed.
“He chooses to face the Moonspinner,” he shouted to his charges. Laughter and catcalls came Gonji’s way. “Hurry now, before we become entangled in her web.”
They spread out and rumbled off the way they had come, scattering uphill, still in their widely spaced ring, receding from Gonji with that same bizarre spatial distortion that had marked their approach. But they stopped and turned on the surrounding hilltops, and he could see
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