A sword with a five-foot blade was nothing like a regular katana. It changed everything, the placement of feet, the angle of the shoulders and back, the speed of the thrusts.
Sam’s first swing connected with Jinsoku’s scythe blade in a burst of sparks, striking with enough power to drive the warlord back a step.
For the briefest moment, they stood in silence, staring at each other. It couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but Sam could see the shift of the warlord’s eyes beneath the red visor of his face shield.
“Very well,” Jinsoku muttered.
And then, he blurred.
The giant yellow samurai vanished. Sam pitched forward and spun, regaining his feet quickly.
Hinode clicked and popped and whirred in his helmet’s earpiece. Was this what the others were talking about? It was like the fan in a desktop computer kicking on.
Sam raised the o-dachi again, gripping the hilt with both hands.
Think. Remember. You studied broadsword fighting forms. He adjusted his grip on the leather-wrapped hilt and turned in a slow circle.
The darkness in the tunnel closed in around him as he strained to hear any sound, any movement. Where had Jinsoku gone? Had he just disappeared? Had he run away?
That tracked with some of his previous behaviors, but not in this case. Jinsoku wouldn’t retreat from a one-on-one fight that had only just started. No, the warlord was clever and crafty. He was waiting for Sam to let down his guard.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Hinode?”
Sam whirled to face the warlord’s voice, but he hadn’t emerged from the darkness yet. The air in the tunnel felt heavy and thick.
“You may have found your sword, but you do not know how to use it.” Jinsoku’s voice echoed off the tunnel walls, eerie in the stillness of the shadows.
“I’ll figure it out.” Sam tested his grip and slid his right hand up to the top of the hilt so he could brace his left palm against the back of the blade.
O-dachi were too long to wield one-handed with any sort of accuracy, Sam remembered that much. Even trying to balance the blade with both hands was harder than he’d expected.
This is going to take some practice.
Hinode chirped in his ear again, and the phantom fingers tingled around his own. As though the armor was trying to take over his motions and his movements.
An image flashed in his mind.
Hinode’s empty helmet leering into his face, armored fingers crushing the sides of his skull. Was that what Hinode wanted? Did the armor want to control him?
Sam’s stomach turned over, and he mentally shoved the sensation of the armor’s touch away. He wasn’t quite sure how that worked since he wasn’t really sure he believed the armor could want anything to begin with, but Hinode wouldn’t be taking over him today.
Hinode was still just a thing. It was Sam’s own will that mattered here.
In a surge of power, Jinosku appeared before him. The warlord just blurred into existence, double-bladed scythe spinning like a buzzsaw.
Sam barely blocked the attack in time, but the power behind it sent him skidding backward, digging his booted toes into the dirt to stop the slide.
Jinosku shimmered and vanished once more, but he didn’t stay gone. He reappeared behind Sam’s left flank. Hinode flared a warning signal in Sam’s ear, and he ducked under Jinosku’s swing.
He rolled forward and twisted to get his feet back under himself and stood, sword held out in defense.
Okay. I’ll admit that was useful.
A mental nudge at the back of his mind made him catch his breath. Almost like a firm finger had poked him in the forehead. And the flash of insight, not a voice, not audible at all. But the sense of someone saying “you’re welcome” echoed in his brain.
Was that Hinode? Was Hinode actually responding to him like an actual person with an actual opinion? And, judging from the firmness of the forehead poke, an actual level of sass?
Oh, this is going to take some getting used to.
He shook himself.
“You cannot win against me, Hinode.” Jinsoku blipped in and out of Sam’s vision around the tunnel. “Mighty warriors from hundreds of worlds have tried and failed. You will fail as well.”
Hinode blared a warning beep in Sam’s ear, and he ignored it.
“There’s a first time for everything, I guess.” Sam smirked and readied his stance.
Jinsoku emerged from the shadows, scythe blades shimmering at either end of the the staff he spun.
Sam didn’t give him a chance to disappear again. He lunged with an underhanded swing, which Jinsoku batted away with ease. Sam followed through with a downward swing. Jinsoku sidestepped it, but Sam caught the edge of the o-dachi against the warlord’s chest plate and jerked backward.
Jinsoku yelped in surprise as the sword blade nicked the side of his chest plate. Sam settled into a defensive stance, breathing hard and holding steady.
Jinosku pressed a hand to his side and withdrew it, a faint stain of blood on his armored fingers. He gawked silently at the blood.
“What was that about me failing?” Sam scoffed.
The warlord cackled merrily and adjusted his grip on the scythe. “None have drawn my blood in centuries, boy.” He spun the scythe with a sharp snap.
“You underestimated me. I don’t recommend that.” Sam raised his o-dachi to his side.
Jinsoku regarded him in silence that stretched far longer than necessary. They stared at each other in the darkness of the tunnel, neither moving, Sam still fighting to catch his breath.
Did Stan have this much trouble breathing when he was fighting? Did Ronnie? He’d have to ask them.
Correction: He’d have to watch them.
No need to ask. He could find out what he needed by paying attention. Asking them would tell them that he couldn’t figure it out by himself, and figuring things out by himself is what he did best.
He’d figured Hinode out on his own, hadn’t he?
Hinode’s mental finger poke returned.
What was that for?
Poke, poke, poke.
That’s going to get really old really fast.
The armor chirped at him again just as Jinsoku blurred. Sam lunged forward and spun, swinging the sword almost like a baseball bat. The tip of the blade connected with Jinsoku’s amror before he vanished again.
Sam cursed under his breath and turned back with another underhanded swing where thought Jinsoku would reappear.
But the sword whistled through air.
Hinode whirred loudly, and something big and heavy slammed into Sam from behind. The impact sent him stumbling forward, flailing to keep his balance. He whirled, and the flickering overhead lights sparkled in the blade of Jinosku’s scythe.
Sam lifted the o-dachi.
Not fast enough.
Jinsoku’s blade sliced through his armor from waist to shoulder. Sam barked in surprise and shock as the sharp, cold pain washed over him. He dropped his sword, and Jinosku drove an armored fist deep into Sam’s stomach. The force flung him backward into the wall, cracks forming around his body in the cement.
He gasped for air as he pried his way out of the cement.
Jinsoku blurred in front of him.
No weapon. No defense.
Sam cursed again.
Jinsoku seized him by the neck and ripped him away from the wall, smashing him into the ground as though he weighed nothing. Hinode bent and groaned around his body.
Coughing, Sam rolled as Jinsoku tried to step on him, and he jumped to his feet. But Jinsoku was ready and swung the scythe again.
The blade bit deep this time, straight across his stomach. Deeper than before. And Jinsoku’s following fist to the top of Sam’s head pounded him face first into the dirt like a pile driver.
Sam blinked and grimaced as he lay on the ground. The sharp pain of the scythe wound transformed quickly to the dull throb of hemorrhaging.
Jinsoku circled him like a jackal.
“Such pride, Hinode.” The warlord snarled, flicking Sam’s blood off his scythe blades. “You accessed your armor’s sword. Well done. That means nothing if you cannot use it. You are as weak as you were before. You still do not understand.”
Slowly, shakily, Sam got to his knees and lifted his face. He started to speak, but Jinsoku was on him again.
The warlord’s first strike hit his throat. The second smashed his face. The tunnel spun as he teetered backward. Chest and stomach bleeding, nose bleeding, throat throbbing—could he fight like this?
“Pride is good, Hinode.” Jinsoku towered over him. “But do not misplace it. You are nothing. Your armor has the power, and it is only through your armor that you are strong.”
Sam peered through his watering eyes as the warlord held up his scythe and opened his hand. The weapon vanished in a blast of yellow light.
“Do not fear, Hinode.” Jinsoku regarded him with a tilt of his helmet. “You will not die today. But you will beg for death before the end. If pain is what you require to learn where your pride should be placed, I will give it to you.”
Jinsoku reached for him, and Sam twisted on the ground, lashing out with his leg to sweep the warlord’s ankles. Jinsoku roared in rage as he stumbled backward, but he didn’t quite fall.
Sam scrambled back to his knees, and Jinsoku punched the back of his head again.
Concussion. That’s a concussion.
His breath stirred the dirt under his face, and a faint drip-drip-dripping sound reached him, his blood pattering on the dead rail lines below him.
“Come, Hinode.”
Sam grunted as Jinsoku grabbed his ankle and dragged him backward. He tried to spin, but the wound in his stomach flared in agony. Sam clutched his hand over the stomach wound to keep the dirt from getting into it, but it wasn’t working.
Hinode clicked in his ear.
Sam ignored it. The armor could make as many noises as it wanted. It couldn’t help him here.
Bleeding and concussed, he wasn’t going to be much use against Jinsoku at this point. Maybe it would be better strategy to wait and see where the warlord was taking him.
In moments, the dirt disappeared from beneath him, replaced by cement. Where were they going?
Sam shut his eyes and calmed his racing heart. Let Jinsoku drag him somewhere. It would give him a moment to gather his thoughts. He’d dropped his new sword, and the instant he’d released it, it had disappeared.
Did he need to call it again?
Okay. That’s a pain. But fine.
He clenched his jaw.
How did he do it again? How had he done it? It had been—instinct. Had he just asked for it?
Hinode chirped again.
Not now. I’m thinking.
The mental poke came again.
Jinsoku dragged him over some debris, and the jagged rock and rebar tore at his already bleeding wounds. He swallowed the urge to cry out. Jinsoku didn’t need any more evidence to point out his weakness.
Hinode poked him again. Sam continued to ignore it.
If Hinode was going to be as obnoxious as Karl, maybe connecting with it had been a bad idea. It hadn’t really done much good so far.
Poke, poke, poke.
Sam sighed.
No, he wasn’t being fair. But he was bleeding and concussed. If he couldn’t complain in his own mind for a moment, what good was having a mind of his own?
Jinosku dropped him.
Sam rolled over the instant the warlord released him and scrambled to his feet. Jinosku blurred again and reappeared behind him. The blow from behind was twice as strong as before. And Jinosku followed through with a devastating punch to Sam’s lower back. Cracks spread out through the concrete under him.
Numbness spread through his legs and up his spine.
“None of that, boy.” Jinsoku seized the back of Sam’s armor and dragged him forward. “I have much to teach you.”
“I’ll have you know. I’m a terrible student.” Sam wheezed.
Jinsoku cackled as he shoved a huge iron door open. “No student is a terrible student, Hinode. The teacher must simply find the right motivation.”
Sam grunted as the warlord jerked him forward and threw him to the floor. His armor squeaked and sparked as it grated against the rough concrete.
Sam stopped his slide and got to one knee, clutching his wounded chest and stomach, as Jinsoku strode into view.
Jinsoku paused before him, looming over him like a thunderhead. “Fortunately, Hinode, I know what makes you tick.”
Sam tightened his fist, waiting for the warlord to shift his weight. All he’d need was one opening, and he could surely knock Jinsoku down.
“Sam?”
He froze.
No.
He glanced over his shoulder, behind him. Chained to a dirty cot along the cement wall, Mia stared at him with huge eyes. Scrapes and bruises discolored her arms and legs, but she was still in one piece.
No, no, no.
Jinsoku chuckled where he stood.
“Miss Davalos has been enjoying our hospitality for several hours now.” The warlord crossed his arms. “I am told her conversation is most invigorating.”
Sam unclenched his fist and let his hand drop. He turned his glare back to the warlord, trying to school his bleeding face into an expression of neutrality.
Mia couldn’t be there.
How could she be there? She was supposed to be safe! She was supposed to have escaped!
But Gideon was supposed to have escaped too.
Gideon.
He hadn’t even thought about the old man. He was back in the tunnel somewhere.
“Now, Hinode.” Jinsoku folded his arms. “Let us try our conversation again.”
“We’ve already said everything we need to say,” Sam growled.
He got his foot beneath him and started to stand up, and Jinsoku smashed into him again. Sam sprawled on the concrete, and Mia cried out in the background.
“I didn’t say you could move, Hinode.” Jinsoku circled him.
Hissing, Sam lifted his head and froze.
A soldier had Mia in its grip, one of its huge robotic hands clutching her slender neck. Her toes scrabbled against the floor as the soldier held her against its chest plate.
“Let her go,” Sam said.
“No.” Jinsoku paused between Sam and Mia. He chuckled and bowed with a mocking tilt of his helmet. “This is why she is here, Hinode.”
Mia gasped and clawed at the soldier’s forearm.
“She is here to suffer.”
Sam’s heart lodged in his throat as the solider lifted Mia higher. He clenched his fist as Hinode whirred in his ear.
You better be right about this, you useless tin can. I need the sword again.
Hinode flared around him, and instantly the giant o-dachi formed in his fist once more. Sam lunged forward toward Jinsoku’s back, and the warlord spun, deflecting his first attack without flinching.
“The more you fight, boy, the longer we will make her last.”
Sam swung for the warlord’s head. Jinsoku evaded, surged forward through Sam’s defenses, and kicked him in the broken chest plate. Sam skidded backward and rested on his knees, but he swung for Jinsoku’s legs.
The warlord backflipped, and Sam ran at him again, slicing downward with the huge blade twice in rapid succession, stabbing forward twice just as fast.
His arms ached. His shoulders burned. His chest and stomach wounds dribbled blood down his armor. Why was this so much easier for weaklings like Stan?
Jinsoku blurred again and reappeared beside him in mid-swing. His armored fist struck the side of Sam’s head so hard it sent him flying across the room. Sam’s armor sparked and shrieked as it skidded across the concrete.
He clutched the sword hilt. He wouldn’t release it this time.
Slowly, he crawled to his knees, blood dripping from nose and mouth. Mia thrashed in the soldier’s hold.
“Ah, finally.” Jinsoku turned to the door. “Our other guest arrives.”
Gideon came sailing into the room and hit the floor on his hands and knees. In the light, the blood from his head wound and the other scrapes all over his arms and legs were painfully apparent. The old man gasped for breath as a soldier closed in on him and seized the back of his neck.
Shouting indignantly, Gideon tried to fight, but a katana alongside his throat silenced him.
“There, there, useless human.” Jinsoku tutted with his hands on his hips. “Stand there and be still. The more you fight, the faster you’ll bleed to death, and we want this to last. Don’t we, Hinode?”
I can’t save them.
Sam gulped for air, hissing at the pain in his chest and stomach. The reflection of his shiny new sword had dimmed as it lay in the dirt of the tunnel.
Even with my armor, I can’t save them.
Slowly, Sam got to his feet, leaning on the sword to keep his balance. The burn of staring eyes drilled into the back of his head, and he glanced over his shoulder.
His mouth went dry.
Stretched out for miles and miles into the distance of the tunnel, thousands of dynasty soldiers stood at attention.
So many.
How had Thallia gotten so many soldiers into the Terran Dimension without them noticing? What was Thallia going to do with all of them?
“You see, Hinode?” Jinsoku gestured to the army. “You cannot stop this. Master Thallia shall possess your world, and there is nothing you can do. There is nothing any of you can do.”
Sam looked back to the warlord, nausea roiling in his stomach.
Jinsoku clapped his hands together with a clank. “Ergo, you can only do what is within your power. Yes? Of course, yes. You can only save the ones we will allow you to save.”
Sam couldn’t restrain a snarl.
“Your useless old man and Kazan’s woman.” Jinsoku gestured to them. “You can save them by vowing to join us.”
Mia choked on a cry, thrashing and shaking her head with tears in her eyes. Gideon’s sightless gaze shifted back and forth, but the expression on his face fell.
“That is your choice, Hinode. Join Thallia, or you will watch these two useless creatures suffer.” Jinsoku approached him with a confident stride. “I have watched you for many years, Samuel. You are impressive in every way. And you care—deeply—for Kazan’s woman.”
The hollow throbbing of his wounds made it difficult to concentrate. Hinode kept clicking and popping in his ear too. What did the armor even want? Now wasn’t the time to be chatty.
“Every man has a price, Hinode. I believe Kazan’s woman is yours.” Jinosku pointed to Mia. “And even if she isn’t, your useless old man obviously means something to you. We will see how long you are able to resist when they are both begging for death.”
Sam let his giant sword lower to the ground, tip pressed against the cold concrete.
“Do not fight it, Hinode,” Jinsoku said. “You aren’t even capable of defeating me. How could you possible dream of defeating Emperor Thallia?” Jinsoku lifted his chin. “Your world will fall. Your armors will belong to my master once again. And if you would only surrender, you will have all that you desire.”
Sam glanced toward Gideon. The old man stood under the soldier’s sword with a gentle smile on his face. The old fool. What did he have to smile about?
Hinode chirped in his ear.
I can’t do this. I can’t fight Jinsoku by myself.
The gentle pressure from before descended on his shoulders, as though the armor itself were wrapping him in a warm embrace. Was Hinode hugging him? How did he get the touchy-feely armor?
Help. He shut his eyes, a burning power growing all around him. I need help.
Poke, poke, poke.
Sam scoffed under his breath. Hinode picked a heck of a time to nudge him mentally.
But the armor was right.
Heaven help him, his armor was right.
I don’t just need Hinode’s help. I need the others. The power thrumming around him surged. I need the Reishosan.
His helmet lit up with green light, bright enough to push back the darkness in the tunnel.
In the verdant light from Hinode, Jinsoku shifted back a step, hissing as he shielded his face.
Sam lifted his sword again, Hinode gathering around him like it was ready to charge into battle by itself again.
“Is this your answer then, Hinode?” Jinsoku’s voice was little more than a quiet snarl.
“I guess it has to be, doesn’t it?” Sam adjusted his grip on the sword.
“You will lose.” Jinsoku called for his double-bladed scythe again. “But so be it. We shall finish this quickly, Hinode, so that I can finish your friends slowly.” He spun his scythe. “Let us continue.”
Sam backed up a step, gripping the sword hilt with his right hand and bracing his left palm against the blade.
If any of you guys can hear me, I could use your stupidity right about now.
He braced himself against Jinsoku’s attack.