Jagged rocks and sharp gravel crunched under Sam’s armored boots as he dragged Gideon down the tunnel after Jinsoku. The old man was fading, his voice growing fainter and fainter with every passing minute.
What am I going to do if I lose him? Sam didn’t dare look down at Gideon’s face, resting against his shoulder. I was fine as long as I hadn’t seen him. I could imagine that he was happy or that he’d died a long time ago. All it took was me being back in his life for a day, and this happened.
Sam swallowed the emotions rising inside him.
Was he just exhausted and that was what made it so hard to lock the emotions away? Or was it admitting that he needed to feel if he wanted his armor to function?
Even now, Hinode tingled pleasantly around him. Ten times lighter than it had been before. Had the simple act of allowing himself to feel really made that much of a difference?
Jinsoku stopped again and released a loud sigh. He glanced back at him.
“Put your old man down, Hinode. Come help me.”
Sam hesitated only a moment and carefully set Gideon to the side of the tunnel. The old man groaned with the motion.
“Hold on, Gid,” Sam said. “We’re getting close.”
It was a lie. Of course, it was a lie. Sam had no idea where they were. With every step, he realized that he’d entrusted his life and Gideon’s life to a warlord who had tried to kill him on multiple occasions.
Although, if what Jinsoku had told him was true, he’d never tried to kill them. And it made sense, if Sam were being honest. Jinsoku had an absurd amount of power, and if he’d wanted to kill them all, he could have done it easily.
No, Jinsoku was doing them a favor. He was trying to help them understand that there was no stopping Thallia. Conquest was coming. Invasion was coming. They might as well get on the train and ride it for all it was worth.
Jinsoku pointed to a huge slab of cement that had crumbled down from the ceiling, blocking their path.
“I shall need your assistance,” Jinsoku said. “Will you aid me?”
“Sure.” Sam wiped his armored hands on his chest plate. “Any helpful hints about moving ten tons of concrete?”
Jinsoku snickered. “As I have told you, Hinode, ask your armor for help. It is a wealth of power.”
Jinsoku shifted to the far side of the slab, and Sam moved to the opposite side. He knelt and jabbed his fingers under the cement. He took a deep breath.
“Okay then, Hinode.” He blew out his breath. “I could use a hand with this stupid piece of street stupid Karl dropped on our heads.”
Chirping sounds tickled one of his ears, and Hinode clenched around him. Jinsoku shouted and began to lift. Sam stood up, and the strain on his arms wasn’t nearly what he was expecting. The giant slab of cement moved.
It was heavy, yes, but they were moving it.
He choked on a laugh.
Hinode has answered him. He’d asked for help, and it helped him. How was that even possible? How did that even work?
The chirping, clicking sounds in his ear hadn’t stopped, which was good since they were still moving the cement. Jinsoku shouted orders from the other side of the slab, and Sam followed them without question.
Finally, they were able to drop the slab and let it settle back into the dirt. Jinsoku climbed out from behind it and slid to stand next to Sam’s side.
“Well done, Hinode.” He nodded.
“Thanks.” Sam shifted the armor around him. “It was easier than I thought.”
“The more you learn to rely on your armor, the greater your power shall become.” Jinsoku patted him on the shoulder. “I look forward to seeing how powerful you become, Hinode. You will be an asset to Emperor Thallia’s forces and a wise governor for this realm.”
Sam didn’t correct him.
He hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but—didn’t it make sense? If Thallia was going to win, why fight him? Jinsoku knew what was up. He’d been working with Thallia for years, and if there had been a better way, surely he would have pursued it.
Jinsoku wasn’t stupid.
And if Jinsoku hadn’t truly wanted to help him, why would he have showed him how to access his sword? Why would he be continuing to help Sam grow in power and strength?
No, Korin was the one who’d fooled them. Maybe through his own trauma and grief, maybe he’d been doing what he thought was right. Nobody could stop Thallia. The best they could do was conform and adapt.
Sam followed Jinsoku around the corner of the slab and walked to where Gideon was still sitting.
“Hinode?”
Sam stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah?”
Jinsoku pointed at the tunnel ahead.
“Oh, no.”
Another cave in had left the remaining length of tunnel crowded with sharp rocks and fractured rebar.
“Are you sure there’s no other way?” Sam turned in a circle.
“None, unless you want to make the full circle again.” Jinsoku chuckled.
He bent down and crawled partway into the tunnel.
“It will be tight for us,” he said. “But we are protected by our armor. It will keep us safe. We will be fine.”
Sam exhaled slowly. “Gideon won’t be.”
Jinsoku shrugged. “He has already lived far longer than I expected.”
Sam fought the surge of irritation that rose in him. “We’ve already had this discussion. Multiple times. Gideon is coming with me.”
“Hinode.” Jinsoku faced him. “Let us reason together. You are not thinking clearly.”
“My thinking is perfectly clear.”
“Your logic is clouded by your emotions,” Jinsoku said. “Emotions will help you access your armor’s power, yes, but untamed they will lead you to foolish choices. Such as this choice to continue helping this useless creature.”
“He’s not useless.”
Jinsoku raised his hand. “Of course you would feel that way, Hinode. Please, do share with me his use.”
Sam scowled. “What?”
“What is his use?”
A chill crept up Sam’s spine and shivered down his arms. The warlord wanted him to validate Gideon’s usefulness. Sure, Sam could do that. Gideon could be useful in lots of situations.
“He’s a skilled tradesman.”
Jinsoku tilted his head. “How could that be? The creature’s eyes are faulty.”
“He was a skilled tradesman. Now he has the experience from it.”
“There are many skilled tradesmen, Hinode. Most far younger with eyes that actually function. This one has no use at all.”
Sam cleared his throat. “He knows the city. He knows the people.”
“What people does he know? Are they important? Are they influential? Do they make decisions?”
Sam swallowed. “No.”
Jinsoku set his hands on his waist. “Hinode, it is long since time you accepted that your attachment to this useless husk of a man is purely sentimental.”
Sam seethed. “That’s not true.”
“It is, boy. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can get on with this.” Jinsoku waved his armored hand dismissively. “You cling to this worthless lump of humanity like a security blanket. Your behavior around him makes you seem unbearably weak, Hinode. You must know that.”
Fury lit somewhere in Sam’s chest. How dare he? How dare the warlord use Gideon against him? Gideon was the best man Sam had ever known, the best man he would ever know, and it didn’t matter what use the man had, Sam would never leave him behind.
But why?
Was it sentiment? Was it illogical emotional attachment? Was it spending too much time with Ryan, like Jinsoku claimed?
Jinsoku sighed heavily. “Listen to me, Hinode.” He turned back to him. “You have been too long beneath the influence of Kazan, too long exposed to the weakness of the Sarraqum. You have not been taught.” Jinsoku faced him. “You have within you the potential for enormous power, Hinode. You cannot begin to grasp the power that is waiting at your fingertips. But if you continue to linger in the shadows, being dragged into the mire and muck with those less worthy, you shall never achieve greatness.”
Sam glanced over his shoulder at Gideon, still laying on the slab, his labored breathing painful and the expression on his face exhausted.
Gideon, who’d given up everything he wanted to give Sam a home when his mother died. Gideon, who’d supported Sam through high school and college with his own money. Gideon, stupid Gideon, who spent hours and hours reading Shakespeare and Milton and Hardy with Sam to help him study.
Jinsoku shifted next to him.
“The emotional need to protect the weak feels noble, Hinode, but expending energy to save those who can do nothing in return for you is a waste of your potential.” Jinsoku lifted his hand, amber light glowing in his fingers. “You have lost much in your life, my young friend. I know.”
“You know?”
Jinsoku nodded. “You fear weakness, Hinode. I see it in you. You desire to be strong and powerful, to never be weak again. Am I right?”
Sam gulped.
“This is a noble goal, Hinode. One that I can help you achieve. One that Emperor Thallia will make a reality. But you must do your part. You are plagued by weakness because you cling to it.”
Sam scowled at him. “What? I don’t.”
“You do. You cling to that old man as though he is a lifeline. He is not. He is an anchor whose only use is to drown you.” The light in Jinsoku’s hands grew sharper. “Cast him off, Hinode. Choose the path of strength. And let the dead die.”
Jinsoku snapped his wrist, and three sharp spheres of light burst out of his fingertips and shrieked across the tunnel. They buried in the wall and exploded directly above Gideon’s head.
Cursing, Sam lunged for Gideon and scooped him into his arms, darting backward as the tunnel wall collapsed right where the old man had been.
Gideon coughed and rasped, holding to Sam’s arm. “Sam? Sammy?”
“I’m here, Gid. I’m here.”
“What happened, boy?”
Sam held him tighter.
“What was that?” He roared, shielding Gideon’s body from Jinsoku’s approach.
“You see, Hinode? Weakness.” Jinsoku gestured to the old man in Sam’s arms. “I only attempted to speed up the process. But it seems you want him to suffer longer. Very well. Do as you like. But we are out of time.”
“What?”
“Say your farewells, Hinode. The old man will die regardless. Let his sacrifice propel you to an achievement that will shape the future of your world.”
Jinsoku turned on his heel and started for the smaller entrance. Sam stared after him.
Gideon chuckled against Sam’s chest.
“What are you laughing about, you idiot?” Sam shook his head.
“That’s a fine new friend you made there, Sam.”
Sam sagged. “He’s not—Gideon, he’s not my friend.”
Gideon coughed again.
“He’s the only way we’re going to get out of here.”
“He’s the only way you’re going to get out of here,” Gideon said. “I heard him. You need to leave me.”
“Gid.”
The old man patted Sam on the side of his helmet. “I understand, boy. I know you’re scared.”
Sam shut his eyes.
“And he’s right. I’m not going to make it.”
“Shut up, Gid.”
“So go, Sam. Go and get out of here.” Gideon slipped a hand under Sam’s neck guard to grip skin. “But you listen to me, boy. You keep your eyes on that one and remember the danger of honest trifles.”
“Honest trifles,” Sam scoffed.
“Banquo was no fool, Sam. So don’t you be a fool either.” Gideon smiled up at him. “Don’t let him trick you. He hasn’t got your best in mind, so don’t stand where he’s standing.”
“Hinode!” Jinsoku shouted. “Are you coming?”
Sam wrapped his fingers around Gideon as another cough wracked his injured body. Sam pulled him close and breathed, just sat still for a moment and tried to clear his mind.
Jinsoku’s thudding footsteps jolted him awake. “Hinode, I begin to lose my patience.”
Sam carefully set Gideon to the side and stood up, keeping Jinsoku in his sights. Jinsoku was right. But Gideon was right too. So was the issue who was more right? How was he supposed to choose a path when there wasn’t a good option?
“I can’t leave him.” The words came out of his mouth before he even thought about it. “I won’t.”
Jinsoku tilted his head. “Sentiment.” He spat it like a curse.
“It’s what’s right.”
“According to whom? Kazan’s perspective?” Jinsoku stepped closer. “Or what is best for you? What is best for your world?”
“What about Gideon? What about what’s best for him?”
“A doddering old man who is already dying.” Jinsoku laughed harshly. “What does it matter what is best for him?”
“We’re all dying every day, some of us a little faster than others.” Sam took a step forward. “I have a choice to save him. It may not be smart, but it’s right. And I won’t leave him behind, not while I can choose.”
“Why?”
“Because he never left me behind.” Sam’s voice shook, and his throat clogged with emotion. “Because whatever else Gideon is, he’s a good man. He’s not strong. He’s not smart. But he’s good. And he knows better than me what good is—he always has—so I’ll go his way, if you don’t mind.”
“Do not be a fool, Hinode.” The rage that had been lurking beneath the surface of Jinsoku’s words began to bubble through. “I have explained this to you. Your old man will die. If you do not come with me now, you will lose any chance you have of ruling this world. If I did not wish to help you, why did I show you how to find your sword?”
Sam scoffed. “It was an honest trifle.”
Jinsoku recoiled. “A what?”
“I thought you were smart, Jinsoku. Don’t you know Shakespeare?” Sam sneered. “ ‘The instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray us in deepest consequence.’”
“Poetic,” Jinsoku snarled.
“It’s from MacBeth. You should read it sometime.”
“Your point being?” Jinsoku’s voice was little more than a feral growl.
“It means be careful who you trust.” Sam stepped back and lifted his chin. “You did me a favor. Great. But was it really for my benefit? Or was it always only for your own?”
“You disappoint me, Hinode.” Jinsoku hissed. “Kazan’s weakness has had far too much of an influence on you if you are willing to give up your own potential for the sake of a worthless lump of a human.”
Jinsoku held out his hand, and a burst of golden light formed there, transforming into his double-bladed scythe.
Sam’s heart twisted in his chest as Gideon groaned in pain behind him.
“Kazan,” he spat. Ryan.
Ryan Lewis was an idiot. A high school drop out. A blue-collar day-laborer was the best he could do.
Ryan would never have let Jinsoku get close enough to Gideon to hurt him. Sam’s stomach turned over. Ryan would never have questioned Gideon’s value enough to listen to Jinsoku.
Ryan would never have bargained with the warlord. He would never have followed the warlord, or if he had, he wouldn’t have listened to him or let anything he said shake him.
Because Ryan Lewis knew where he stood. And if nothing else, Sam could always trust that Ryan would do what was right—what was good. Just like Gideon.
Just like Gideon.
Sam clenched his fist, his breath shaking and his voice unsteady.
“Ryan is an idiot,” he spat. “He’s a failure at everything that I care about.” The glow in his hand grew brighter, stronger, blinding. “He’s weak. He’s stupid. And I’ve always hated that somehow he’s still better than me.” His voice broke, and the light grew brighter. “Because he is. He’s better. Because he’s good. That’s why Mia loves him. That’s why he deserves her.”
Hinode shuddered around him, and the gigantic o-dachi from before burst out of his hand. Sam shifted to hold it with both hands, the weight of it strong and certain in his grip.
“Ryan is good like Gideon,” Sam shook his head, his eyes burning, “and he would never let someone like you make him question that. He knows who he is. He knows where to stand. So I’m going to stand with him.”
Jinsoku scoffed and twirled his scythe. “I had high hopes for you, Hinode. But you, like Kazan, are a fool.”
The Hinode armor tingled around Sam’s arms, gently nudging him to change his stance. Sam followed. Following the armor seemed so natural now. How had he ever doubted? Why had he ever doubted it?
Sam steadied himself. “Thallia is my enemy,” he said. “You are my enemy. And I will give my life to stop you if that’s what it costs.”
Jinsoku’s hidden gaze burned into him from behind his face-shield. “Is that what you believe, Hinode?”
“What I believe?” Sam laughed. “Not at all. But it’s true.” He snarled. “So I’m going act like I believe it until I do.”
A burst of chirps and static hissed in his ear, and Hinode surged around him in a burst of green light. A gentle, firm pressure on the back of his mind. Like an embrace.
Hinode?
The armor thrummed around him, resonating with a sense of joy. Like two souls reunited even though they’d never met.
Invisible fingers wound around his as he gripped his giant sword. It shimmered with light as though the sun itself was trapped in the blade.
Sam smirked. “Let’s get him.”
Power pulsed through Sam’s arms, through his chest, through the armor itself. Thunder rumbled through the underground as Sam charged.