A sample from DISHONORED: THE WAR OF THE SAKURA, PART THREE

The following is taken from chapter nine of the twenty-one chapter book. It dumps you right into the middle of the action and introduces characters not previously discussed in the novel. That makes a good chapter to sample, I think.

As always, these samples are unproofed and unedited. I’ll go back over it when I’ve finished the first draft. Until there, here’s the chapter titled “The Ideal Soldier”:

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Far away, perched on a horse on the opposite side of the battlefield, Tetso could hear the call to retreat. Amidst the cacophony of noises that are ever present in warfare, the command to turn and run was unmistakable. Even if you could not hear it, you could feel it; it moved like a ripple in a pond, moving outward from the General who gave the order all the way to the soldier battling at the farthest edge of the fight.

All at once the angry shouts of soldiers charging forward became the panicked shouts of those same soldiers turning away from the enemy to retreat back to whatever safe place they could find. There is something panic-inducing about a retreat, not just because it confirms every soldier’s worst fear that they had before the battle (that they might lose), but because it forces you to put your back to the enemy, where you are vulnerable and susceptible to cheap shots.

Technically, honor would compel an army not to attack a retreating foe. Honor would insist that the enemy be allowed to fall back and then a new attack can be planned and undertaken, face to face the way it ought to be done.

War—the thick of war—is rarely ever an honorable affair, however. Back when Nozoma was leading a campaign deeper and deeper into the heart of Hahi (before the Kyojin returned to drive them back), the Yato forces regularly overwhelmed the natives. When the Hahi fighters attempted to flee, it was not uncommon for Nozoma to order his archers to fire on the escaping enemies. No doubt the arrow-pierced backs of the corpses scattered around the country were a powerful motivator for the Hahi to dispense with what “honor” might require when forces are fleeing.

The Yato army had been in a cycle for the better part of a month. Nozoma and Eraba would strategize an attack, intending to drive back the Hahi who had them pinned near the Kyojin Bridge. The attack would initially succeed, only for the great Kyojin warrior to enter the battle and nearly single-handedly stall the campaign, forcing Nozoma and his army to fall back once more.

 It was as if the giant was toying with the Yato army, happy to sucker them in just to chip away at their number before pushing them back. If the Kyojin’s aim was to demoralize Nozoma’s army, it was a successful one so far.

From the perspective of the Princes and Generals, the constant fighting and retreating without any new ground being won was a source of great frustration. From the perspective of the grunts in the army (the foot soldiers who were not permitted to sit in on strategy meetings, much less make the big decisions about the war), the cycle was much worse than frustrating; the army was palpably depressed.

Soldiers’ shoulders were almost perpetually drooped. Marching was sluggish. Faith in their leadership was almost non-existent. Tetsu remained optimistic that their fortunes would improve, though he had no idea how, and certainly not when. Nevertheless, he was a bright spot to those who fought alongside him, and his refusal to give up as long as there was a fight to undertake kept more than a few people around him alive.

“Everyone make it?” Tetsu asked as he flopped onto the ground and leaned against a rock. The army was resting, but only for a moment. To an uninformed observer, the question was ridiculous. Many had died in the battle, just as many more had fallen in the last one. Never had they fought without at least someone failing to “make it.” Tetsu was not referring to the whole army, however, but to the small band of soldiers that had bonded in battle, and who remained close by each other whether marching to the fight, fighting the fight, and retreating from the fight. There were six of them and, fortunately, all six answered in the affirmative.

“Yudai is hurt!” one of them shouted. Tetsu hopped up and hurried over to see his friend nursing an arrow wound in his lower back.

“Imamushi has bandages; go!” he said, shoving away the nearest soldier.

“Tetsu, don’t…” Yudai said, speaking with barely a whisper. He sounded worse than his minor injury looked. “Just let it be over.”

“Please.” Tetsu scoffed. “This is fine. We’ll have you mended shortly.”

Yudai shook his head. “I don’t want to be mended. I just want to sleep.”

Tetsu leaned Yudai over a bit to look at the wound once more. A thought occurred to him as he watched his companion speak and act so groggily. He turned to another soldier beside him: “The arrows may be poisoned, go and tell—”

“No.” Yudai said, grabbing the nearby soldier and stopping him from running off to bother a field commander. “I just don’t want to do it anymore. I can’t.”

“You have to.” Tetsu said.

“No I don’t…neither do you.”

“I do. I must. Honor compels it.”

“Honor…” Yudai snorted as he spoke, mocking the word. “There’s no honor here.”

“In this land? Perhaps not, but there is honor in us. Do you know my story?” He asked, which was a silly question since he had told it to them many times, just as they had told him their stories of how and why they joined Nozoma’s campaign across Hahi.

“Tell it to me again.” Yudai said as he let his head rest against the rock behind him.

“My father fought here under King Hironobu. He would have died here, too. The King in those days was stubborn enough to fight to the death. Hideo—before he was King—took command of the army here and marched us back. He released the warriors to their homes. My father returned to my home, Kin’so, long after I had come to believe he was dead and would never return. Now the King’s son wishes to finish the fight here: Honor compels me to pay back the kindness of my King. I will fight and, when the day to leave is come, I will return home to my father, as he returned home to me.”

“Here.” a young soldier said, hurrying over with bandages in hand. “Turn him over and—” He stopped as he touched the still and cold flesh of Yudai. Tetsu looked from the healer to his friend, only then realizing he had released himself from life while listening to talk of war and honor.

Tetsu and his now-four companions laid their friend on his back, and partially buried him in loose rocks and dirt. It was a hasty and improper burial but it was all they could do under the circumstances.

“We’re moving.” Field Commander Inatu said, walking up with a stern and uncaring glower on his face. “What is this?” he asked upon noticing the hasty grave.

“Yudai was killed.” Tetsu replied, lacking the desire to elaborate further.

“Next time leave the body.” Inatu said mercilessly. “We do not have to bury all the dead in this stupid fight.” He turned away before Tetsu could respond, and the young soldier very much wanted to respond to the description of their fight as stupid. “We are half a day from camp. Move quickly and we will return before nightfall.” The Commander stopped to watch the soldiers drag themselves off the ground to continue their march back to their outpost. “What a waste of good soldiers…” he muttered (not quietly).

“These are good soldiers.” Tetsu said defiantly. “Every one of them.”

“Did I ask you?” the Commander asked, looking murderous at the young warrior. “If I want to express my dissatisfaction I will do so and you will listen without comment. Understood?”

“Yes.” Tetsu said, bowing his head.

“If I want to say the King’s sons are wasting us all with their…strategy, while they argue and bicker from afar, I will do so and you will listen without comment. Understood?”

“Yes.” Tetsu said again.

“And if I want to say the King is a weak and failed fool who has allowed this invasion to go on far longer than it should, then I will do so and you will—”

“You will not.” Tetsu said, taking a step back, just out of the Commander’s arm’s reach. “You will not speak ill of our Emperor. King Hideo is a great man, a man of honor, and—” He stopped at the mocking laughter of the Commander, well out of earshot of the Princes.

“Naïve boy.” the General said, shaking his head. He didn’t even seem angry at him anymore. He just waved his hand for the warrior to get back in formation and carry on with the retreat.

 Tetsu refused to move, however.

 “You will apologize for slandering him.” the young man said, drawing his sword. The derisive smile on the Commander’s face melted away and, compelled, he drew his own weapon.

“You better be sure you can use that.” the Commander said. “If you fail…I won’t.”

“I challenge you to—” Tetsu began but the sudden lunging of the Commander interrupted him. Age and experience fought against youthful idealism and confidence and, though it rarely happens, the younger prevailed over the older. The “battle” such as it was ended in mere moments. One minor step to the right and one slice was all it took, and the Commander fell to the ground at Tetsu’s feet.

Just then a horn blasted in the air. Tetsu dropped his weapon, sure that he was about to be arrested. The horn was not for him, however. “Hurry!” another soldier called.

“What is it?”

“Scouts say they’re in pursuit, and the Kyojin is coming with them.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, too amped up with adrenaline from the fight to think clearly.

“He doesn’t usually lead the attack against our retreat.” the soldier replied. “They must be planning to wipe us out for good.”

“Are we going to turn and fight?” Tetsu asked, once more gripping his sword tight in hand.

“Are you kidding? We’re getting out of here. The outpost is our only chance; hurry!”

“We need reinforcements!” Tetsu shouted as he followed behind.

“More are coming, I’m told.” the soldier shouted back.

“I hope they’re enough…”