Chosen by the Blade Read online

  Chosen by the Blade

  Bryce Allen

  Copyright © 2018 by Waterstone Media

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Bryce Allen’s Facebook Page - https://www.facebook.com/bryceallenwrites/

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  To my wife, Brianna. This book wouldn’t exist without you.

  Chapter 1

  The frantic screams around him blurred into a resounding roar. Every one of Kenji’s victories made the crowd louder than the last. This would be the last match, win or lose. The noise rattled his chest.

  He focused on his breath, in and out. Pushing all distractions from his mind, he walked up the steps and onto the platform. He palmed the sword at his side, curved and wicked. It was all he needed now.

  The announcer calmed the crowd, but the roar never left Kenji’s ears. The officially dressed man introduced the fighters. Kenji didn’t need to hear the announcer, anyway. He knew who he was.

  Then the cheers returned and his opponent stepped onto the platform. He was a massive man, standing two heads taller than Kenji. He was fifteen years Kenji’s senior.

  “Introducing Ren,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Captain of the Gawan Royal Guard!”

  The crowd erupted again, but Ren’s eyes never left Kenji’s.

  “This match determines who will represent Gawa in the national Tenno Tournament. May you both fight with honor and represent Gawa with pride.

  “Ready, fight!”

  The crowd fell silent, but neither warrior moved. Kenji felt his breath quiver, but his gaze never faltered. Ren moved first, drawing his curved blade from its sheath. He wielded it with both hands, leveling it at Kenji. “May the better man win.”

  Kenji gripped his sword. The tightly woven fabric that embraced the hilt was comfortably familiar. His fingers fit perfectly around the worn ridges. With a smooth, metallic ring, he readied his sword.

  In unison, both competitors gave shallow nods.

  With that, Ren charged. Every bounding step he took towards Kenji shook the wooden stage. It only took him a moment to reach Kenji. He lashed out in a controlled, horizontal cut.

  Kenji was ready. Instead of sacrificing his guard, he ducked narrowly under the attack. The whistle of a perfectly executed cut sang inches above him.

  Kenji lunged upward, using his crouch to gather strength. He slashed up at Ren’s torso, but Kenji cut only the air. Ren shifted backward, his sword at the ready. Kenji took the offensive, lunging at Ren with the tip of his blade.

  Ren faded back, deflecting Kenji’s attack with a flick of his blade. It was a simple movement, one that readied Ren for another attack, but Kenji never gave him the chance. Kenji unleashed a flurry of cuts, pushing Ren back with every swing.

  Ren danced backwards, dodging or blocking every well-placed cut. Kenji had never seen a man of Ren’s size move with such agility. He had counted on being able to outmaneuver such a large opponent, but now he would need a new strategy.

  Ren sidestepped, dodging Kenji’s attack and creating an opening. He planted his foot and swung with all his weight at Kenji’s center of gravity. Ren growled with exertion, putting all his strength behind the cut.

  It was too fast for Kenji to dodge, and he barely got his sword between himself and certain death. The clash of steel on steel echoed over the crowd, putting a sharp ring in Kenji’s ears.

  The blow knocked Kenji from his feet, hurling him through the air. He hit the platform, tumbling twice before finding his feet. He heard the murmurs from the crowd start to carry on the wind. There hadn’t been a single fatality yet this tournament.

  Fatalities were not against the rules. If possible, the competitor was to spare the life of their opponent. In tournaments past, it wasn’t uncommon for life to be taken. If someone was killed, it was for the honor of the empire.

  At this tournament there were a few serious wounds, but everyone lived. Anyone who could carry a sword came to compete, and oftentimes the skill levels of the competitors were so different that matches ended quickly and without injury.

  As the competitors thinned, the danger grew.

  The ringing in his ears faded as Kenji stood up. Ren took slow, confident strides towards him. Kenji readied himself for the next attack. None of his strategies were working. What did he have left?

  “Kenji!”

  The gruff voice of Ebusu, his elderly master, cut through the chaos. He was stern, but confident. Kenji glanced at his master. He was sitting in the front row. His demeanor was calm, but Kenji could see the fire flicker in his eyes. Ebusu’s well-trimmed, stark white goatee was twisted into a grimace. His shaved head inclined slightly, betraying his intensity.

  Kenji was a natural with a sword. Even as a small child he could best children double his age with a simple stick. But he had been an untamed force before he met Ebusu. Where there had been insecurity and confusion, Ebusu provided clarity and calm.

  “Yes, master,” Kenji whispered under his breath.

  Kenji loosened his grip on his sword and relaxed his body. He let his thoughts go. With them, the expectations and fear dissipated. Some thoughts were easier to let go of than others, but Kenji was taught that a clear mind was a powerful mind.

  Kenji took a flexible stance. It wasn’t defensive, nor was it offensive. Both legs were bent equally, ready to thrust him any direction. His blade was steady, pointed at Ren’s throat.

  A smile flickered across Ren’s face. Kenji almost missed it. It wasn’t the smile of arrogance or premature celebration, but an acknowledgment. In a flash of insight, Kenji saw into Ren’s character. The captain of the Gawan Guard had been worried that he hadn’t been given a worthy opponent.

  That worry was gone now.

  Kenji dashed forward and tested Ren with a quick cut. It wasn’t strong, but it was fast and well timed. Ren deflected it and counterattacked. Kenji was already two paces away when the cut passed by him.

  Ren moved in, shifting his sword’s position several times as he did. He was a tree in the breeze as he approached, firm, but never still. It was impossible to predict which position he would lash out from. Kenji recognized the form from his own practice with Ebusu.

  Kenji relaxed his body. The cut would come when Ren wanted it to come. No struggle or stress would change that. Ren took his final step and performed the cut. His blade seemed to appear before Kenji, bearing down on him.

  Kenji’s body reacted out of instinct. He lifted his blade to catch the attack. He didn’t aim to block it, but to guide it away from him. Ren tried to muscle through the deflection, but Kenji was the wind. Ren’s strength didn’t matter.

  The cut passed by Kenji’s side and dug into the wood at their feet. Ren pulled the sword from the stage and leaped backwards. Kenji saw the opening, and he knew what to do.

  His fighting spirit overwhelmed him, and he exploded toward Ren. Ren intercepted his first attack, deflecting Kenji’s stab, but overextended his sword arm. Without thought, Kenji wr
apped a free arm around Ren’s forearm.

  Kenji used Ren’s own momentum against him, pulling with his whole body. Ren stumbled forward and Kenji slid his sword behind Ren’s guard. Both warriors fell still, Kenji’s blade pressed to Ren’s throat.

  Ren tensed for a moment, mentally trying to work through his position. Then his body relaxed, and his hand released his weapon. His sword clattered to the ground, igniting cheers from the crowd.

  The region of Gawa had their champion.

  Ren grimaced and backed away from the victor. Ren stooped to pick up his sword and sheathed it. His anger was evident, as was his restraint He gave a solemn bow and left the platform without a look back. Before Kenji realized what had happened, the announcer had hold of his arm, lifting it in the air.

  “At just sixteen years of age, Gawa has their youngest champion in the history of the Tenno Tournament!”

  Kenji allowed himself to smile for the first time in weeks. He’d done it. He had won the regional tournament. He was one champion of six from across the empire. In just a few days he would travel to the capital and compete for the Zettai blade.

  The sword was said to triple its owner’s strength and speed.

  It was a power unparalleled in the world. Not only did it give the wielder physical power, but political as well. The winner of the Tenno Tournament held a position within the empire that was second only to the emperor himself.

  Kenji looked over at his master. Ebusu’s face didn’t show any sign of happiness, but Kenji knew him well enough to see the relief in his eyes. He nodded to Kenji. It was a simple, yet powerful gesture.

  What happened next was a blur. Kenji was paraded around the city, lifted up on chairs and displayed for all of Gawa to see. Gawa was a small region, consisting mostly of fishing villages. It only took four or five days to traverse the entire region, and it wouldn’t surprise Kenji if every Gawan had come to see the tournament.

  Streets were lined with musicians, shops and taverns stayed open into the early morning. Crowds gathered in the streets, dancing and feasting the night away. Children frolicked through the crowd, laughing as they chased each other. It was the biggest celebration Kenji had ever seen.

  Most citizens of the empire had not seen a Tenno Tournament in their lifetime. The last winner wielded the Zettai for forty-seven years. He had died in his sleep, and now it was time to choose a new warrior.

  Chapter 2

  The next evening, Kenji was brought to a banquet thrown in his honor. He was seated at the highest table with his master, his mother, and the governor of Gawa.

  Kenji’s mother, Saske, was happy to see him, but she didn’t fully understand what was happening. It was the first time she’d seen him since the tournament. A tournament like that was no place for her.

  Saske was a beautiful middle-aged woman, but she was frail for her age. She looked confused, as she did most days. Her eyes wandered the banquet, never focusing on anything in particular. A pang of sadness pierced Kenji’s haze of victory. The healer in their village said she was losing her mind.

  The deepest part of Kenji was happy that she was there. He believed that somewhere inside of that broken mind there was still a proud mother. Her eyes met his and he flashed a soft smile.

  “My sweet boy,” she said, opening her arms.

  They embraced, holding each other tightly, rocking back and forth. Kenji didn’t want to let her go. He feared that when they pulled away, she wouldn’t remember him.

  “I told you I’d be safe.”

  Saske wiped tears from her eyes, “I know, I know. Your father would be proud, Kenji,” she whispered.

  A shiver ran up Kenji’s spine. Saske rarely spoke of Kenji’s father. On her worst days, she would ask where he was and shout his name until she fell asleep. Those days seemed to be more common as the years passed.

  “Mother—”

  “He would be, Kenji.”

  Kenji savored his mother’s lucid moment. He wanted to ask her if she knew he’d be leaving for Tenno soon. Did she know that he was about to risk his life for the empire? He didn’t want to risk upsetting her in such a public space, so he let it go. Ebusu stayed close to her side the remainder of the night, freeing Kenji to enjoy the celebration.

  The governor of Gawa must’ve seen Kenji’s tears forming. He stepped beside Kenji and wrapped a rough arm around him, “Now, now, this is not a time for tears. This is a time for celebration!”

  Governor Sagura was an honorable man, and an excellent leader. He was a short, rotund man, clad in brightly colored robes. He was never seen in public in less than the finest attire, and he moved with practiced grace. There was a cunning in his eyes that coaxed fear and admiration from Kenji.

  Elections were held to choose the governors every two years. Each region had a governor and an ambassador. The ambassadors stayed in the capital and were not elected. Individual villages were allowed to lead themselves as they saw fit, as long as they were in full support of the empire. For Gawa, elections were nothing but a formality. Sagura had been unopposed for the last decade.

  Sagura calmed the crowd and gestured for everyone to take their seats.

  “Today we feast in honor of Kenji. He fought and defeated a dozen men to win this great honor.”

  Sagura continued in his grandiose voice, “I have no doubt that soon, we will be honoring the wielder of the Zettai blade in this very hall!”

  Tables clattered with dull thuds as the guests smashed their fists into the wood. Kenji felt his cheeks flush with an unfamiliar emotion, embarrassment. He’d dreamed of the honor, of course; every boy that held a sword did. He just never thought he would have a chance. It seemed like a fairy tale.

  As long as Kenji could remember, he had only wanted one thing: to enlist in the empire’s military. He felt it was the only way to properly honor his father. His dream aligned perfectly with Ebusu’s training. With his skill with a sword, Kenji could climb the ranks faster than anyone had before. He could be a general in no time—at least that was what he believed.

  Then, when Ebusu told him of Jin’s passing, a new idea emerged. The Zettai was the highest honor a swordsman could carry. Kenji had to fight for it. He would win the Tenno and honor his father by wielding the Zettai in his name.

  So here he was, one step closer to the Tenno Tournament.

  After a few more words, the feast began. Kenji was enjoying his food when Sagura leaned towards him.

  “That was quite a victory, Kenji,” Sagura said quietly.

  “Thank you, Governor,” Kenji said between bites of his food.

  Sagura paused for a moment, considering his next words. “You know all too well what the war did to this region. Many lost just as much as you.”

  Kenji felt a cold chill wash over him. The bliss of his victory faded, and he met Sagura’s eyes. Kenji wondered to himself why the governor would bring up such a dark time during a celebration like this.

  Kenji mustered his bravest tone. It was one he used often. He hated when others took pity on him for losing his father so young. “My father fought proudly for the empire.”

  Sagura nodded his approval, clearly impressed with Kenji’s mature response to the subject.

  “That he did, Kenji, that he did. I knew Tadashi. Your father and I served in the emperor’s militia together.” Sagura chuckled, his eyes wandering through a memory, “You were far too young to remember, but I met you before he passed.”

  Sagura chuckled again. His tone was casual, and he spoke of the past lightly, as if it had no meaning. A thousand questions came to Kenji at once. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words tangled themselves on his lips.

  “Governor, I—”

  The governor of Gawa held his hand up, silencing Kenji. It nearly took physical effort for Kenji not to beg Sagura for a story about his father. Any story would be fine, it didn’t even have to be important.

  Sagura saw the desperation on Kenji’s face and matched it with a grim, warning glance.

  “
Enough reminiscing. We must look forward,” Sagura said, clapping Kenji on the back.

  “Yes, governor.” Kenji tried not to sound sullen, but Sagura didn’t notice.

  Sagura leaned back in his chair, his eyes focused on Kenji. Sagura’s lips formed a thin line. The corner of his eyes tightened and Kenji felt a wave of discomfort fall over him.

  He tried to match the intensity of Sagura’s gaze. He held it for a moment, but Sagura’s eyes cut through him as true as any blade.

  Sagura leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone.

  “Kenji, the wielder of the Zettai isn’t just a warrior enhanced by the sword’s power. He is a personal adviser to the emperor. Many consider the wielder of the Zettai to be second in command of the entire empire.”

  Kenji felt a pit develop in his stomach. Sagura’s hot breath pressed on his face, an unfamiliar closeness. Kenji wasn’t used to being nervous.

  “We need you in that position. With your influence, Gawa can recover from years of war. We need resources and a strong voice in the capital. Above all else, we need peace, Kenji. With the Zettai, you will have the authority to make entire armies go to war.”

  Sagura held up a finger and cocked an eyebrow, “It is a dangerous thing, having power which you must never use.”

  Kenji felt a weight form on his shoulders. The thoughtless joy of victory was replaced by a burden, the burden of his entire region.

  Sagura wasn’t lying. Gawa was one of the poorest regions in the empire. They had more coastline than any other region, which made them vulnerable. The empire had swept in, over-farmed their land and emptied their seas. As the war came to a bloody end, Gawa was left with few men and fewer resources.