Gonji: Deathwind of Vedun: The Deathwind Trilogy, Book Three Read online

  Table of Contents

  THE DEATHWIND TRILOGY

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  DEDICATION

  EPIGRAM

  MAP OF VEDUN

  WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE...

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  CHARACTER INDEX

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  THE DEATHWIND TRILOGY

  Gonji: Red Blade from the East

  Gonji: The Soul Within the Steel

  Gonji: Deathwind of Vedun

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  Copyright © 1983, 2013 by T. C. Rypel

  Previously published as Samurai Combat.

  *

  Published by Wildside Press LLC

  www.wildsidebooks.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is for

  MARTY SWIATKOWSKI...scholar, wit, and confidant

  JOE RUTT...critic, guide, and kindred spirit

  GARY DUMM...purveyor of rei and wa

  And, oh yes...

  DAVE BUEHNER...who skated in late

  Such friends have I.

  EPIGRAM

  I sought them far and found them,

  The sure, the straight, the brave,

  The hearts I lost my own to,

  The souls I could not save.

  They braced their belts about them,

  They crossed in ships the sea,

  They sought and found six feet of ground,

  And there they died for me.

  —A. E. Housman,

  Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries

  MAP OF VEDUN

  WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE...

  In the sixteenth-century Carpathian Mountains, a lone samurai named Gonji Sabatake journeys in endless quest after the legendary Deathwind, the Beast with the Soul of a Man. Staving off assaults by primal horrors in the haunted territory, he joins, for a time, a company of mercenaries in the employ of a mysterious nomadic king who dubs himself Klann the Invincible.

  Bolting the 3rd Royalist Free Company after a clash over their dishonorable duty, Gonji returns to a scene of carnage he helped perpetrate and is charged by a dying priest to convey a message to a mystery man named Simon Sardonis, whom he will find in the city of Vedun. Attacked by a wyvern, a ghastly winged dragon, Gonji is put to flight and commits himself to the beast’s eventual destruction.

  Bringing the body of a boy beaten to death by mercenaries in Klann’s hire, the samurai enters the ancient walled city of Vedun, a citadel perched on a Transylvanian plateau-aerie. He finds the city occupied by Klann’s army, the castle of the provincial lord, Baron Rorka, having been successfully breached in a single night’s siege.

  Gonji finds that the dead boy was the brother of an important council member, Michael Benedetto, and thus becomes embroiled in political intrigue from the outset. He comes to side with the citizens, who are ethically and morally divided over a course of action. The pacifist faction is led by the Council Elder, Flavio; the militants, by the volatile guildsman Phlegor and the fiery prophetess Tralayn.

  As enmity between Gonji and King Klann’s forces, human and inhuman, increases, so dawns his affection for the city and some of its inhabitants; notably, the blacksmith Garth Gundersen and one of his sons, Wilfred, who is consumed by the desire to rescue his beloved Genya from the invaded castle. A lovely deaf-mute girl named Helena becomes enamored of Gonji; and Gonji, in turn, of Michael’s wife, Lydia.

  Through a series of wild adventures and curious circumstances, the half-breed oriental (his mother having been a shipwrecked Norsewoman) rises to a position of influence—a tenuous one, weakened by distrust and bigotry. In a fit of pique, obeying the dictates of his moody disposition and the cry of an empty purse, he hires on as a spy for Klann with Captain Julian Kel’Tekeli, whom he has come to hate, their personalities clashing severely.

  But ever the seeker after noble duty, he also contrives to become Flavio’s personal bodyguard. His love of control, attention, and military game-playing thus satisfied, and characteristically mistaking serendipity for fate, he sees himself committed (in his compromising, half-Western fashion) by the bushido code to following the situation through to a conflict he feels inevitable. And the key to his Deathwind quest—and the now linked mystery of Simon Sardonis—seems to be withheld from him by certain fearful city leaders.

  As RED BLADE FROM THE EAST closes, Gonji manipulates himself into the city delegation to the castle banquet being held by the legendary King Klann the Invincible, who has suddenly decided to break with his reclusive tradition.

  At the castle banquet the city delegation discovers Klann to be quite a different man from the threatening myth-figure that precedes him: he appears cheerful and hospitable, exuding an air of concern for his subjects. He promises to redress the grievances brought to his attention by the city. His court sorcerer, Mord, though, proves quite as foul as his legend and evinces a profound hatred for the city and its Christian mode of worship. And in almost comic counterpoint to the young smith’s agonized concern, Wilfred’s beloved Genya displays a plucky self-confidence that has her in a position of influence in the castle.

  Gonji is lured by Julian into an exhibition of swordsmanship designed to compare their distinctive fencing styles, culminating in a duel weighted in favor of the European blade. Gonji is narrowly defeated, shamed in his own mind despite a brilliant showing. Their enmity is further fueled.

  While the castle revelry plays itself out, an undisclosed traitor from Vedun meets in secret with Mord to plan the city’s destruction. And a most disquieting revelation comes to light: Garth Gundersen, the gentle smith, is a former trusted general of Klann, a matter he has withheld from even his family and closest friends.

  Back in the city the militants demand action against the brutalizing occupation force. Tralayn and the revolutionary artist-poet Alain Paille attempt to inspire in Gonji a sense of destiny that will see him lead a city militia against the invaders. Garth reveals the details of his former association with Klann and reads from an ancient parchment the incredible story of Klann’s enchanted origin: The wandering king was born septets, all endangered at birth, and combined by his royal parents’ court wizard into one healthy child carrying seven distinct personages, each of whom would emerge, in turn, upon the death of the last. Klann’s obsession is to return to the island kingdom of his birth and repossess the throne wrested from his father in a sorcerous coup.

  Meanwhile, Mord takes a magical hand toward inspiring the internecine conflict he desires: His black magick blights much of Vedun’s harvest, causing violent re
percussions that intensify the city’s burden under the aggressive invading army. Misunderstandings and the sorcerer’s foul meddling polarize Klann and the city, as tensions increase.

  Gonji rises to leadership over the militia that trains in the vast, ancient catacomb system beneath the city. But as his star rises, so do his troubles multiply. Skills and tactics must be taught to a largely nonmilitary populace; weapons and armor are difficult to obtain; while he makes many new friendships, he also has his detractors; the continued presence of Klann’s bullying troops and Mord’s intimidating monsters casts a pall over the combat readiness; Gonji’s frustrated attraction to Lydia and ill-timed deflowering of Helena further complicate relationships; the occupying army builds in strength; Julian’s suspicions of Gonji deepen.

  And through it all the traitor watches and records.

  Anticipating her own foretold death, Tralayn reveals to Gonji that the Deathwind he seeks may be the same Simon Sardonis for whom he bears a message—and the enigmatic Simon is a werewolf, who lives a vengeful, self-pitying and egocentric life on the fringe of the territory, protected by those he now refuses to help.

  This possible cosmic mockery of his long quest casts Gonji in a gloomy frame of mind.

  While Gonji’s militia makes a successful practice foray against an occupied village in the marches, Klann comes to Vedun in an eleventh-hour appeal for peaceful coexistence. The king is secretly poisoned by Mord, who accuses Tralayn of the crime. And true to the legend, the next Klann personage immediately arises, phoenix-like, from the corpse of the murdered one. This Klann is a harsh, vindictive man who will brook no resistance. Tralayn is summarily tried and executed by a kangaroo court at the castle, after first prophesying that a Deliverer will come to the aid of the city, one who will shake the invaders’ courage by his very sight. Flavio is hanged in the city square. An abortive rebellion ensues, fomented by the guild leader Phlegor. Many citizens are slaughtered, and the city’s rebellious spirit is dampened.

  As word of the mistimed and costly revolt spreads, fearful city leaders urge that the rebellion be abandoned. Out of frustration, Gonji and some of his militant friends become embarrassingly drunk. Gonji’s double-dealing on behalf of the city has become known to Julian, and the unconscious samurai must be spirited away by the militia.

  Awakening to the news of his disgraceful failure as Flavio’s bodyguard, Gonji attempts ritual suicide but is prevented by his friends, who find the practice horrifying. Angered by his inability to find satisfaction for his loss of face in the midst of this cultural conflict, he decides to leave them to make what they will of their situation.

  In the catacombs Gonji and his accompanying band discover that Baron Rorka and the last of his knights have been savaged by a colossal carnivorous worm from the bowels of the earth. They destroy the monster in a ferocious battle that costs several more lives, then begin to piece together the evidence that a traitor in their midst works for Mord—and that quite possibly Mord is playing both sides against each other, toward a mutual destruction for his own insidious ends.

  Outraged at being manipulated and having all their laborious plans compromised, Gonji tells the militia that Klann must be approached with their suspicions and that, failing to convince him, they must now prepare for the worst—the dreaded clash that Mord is orchestrating. Taking with him a quiver of arrows impregnated with the potent venom of the worm-thing, Gonji rides to the lair of Simon Sardonis, where he will confront the legendary figure who so cynically rejects the hero’s mantle.

  So ends THE SOUL WITHIN THE STEEL.

  PART ONE

  LUPUS IN FABULA

  CHAPTER ONE

  At the Hour of the Monkey, Mord determined that Gonji must die.

  The sorcerer had gained a grudging respect for the samurai. By his sword skill, cleverness, and steely nerve, and now with the proof of his training of the militia—witnessed in the extermination of the worm—he was turning the game to his favor. His continued presence might confound Mord’s purpose, might compromise the plotting of the Grand Scheme. What might his next devious move be?

  The militiamen had destroyed the worm as had been expected, but not at the anticipated blood-cost; not out of desperation but out of determined fury and confident might-of-arms. They had learned well. And they had not followed the worm’s destruction with a precipitate rebellion stemming from their fear of the catacombs’ discovery. Instead they had fired the castle tunnel.

  What did they suspect? What would they do now?

  The traitor’s word might come too late. Mord had to know what the wily samurai was doing and he must eliminate the oriental’s threat, even as he had done with Baron Rorka and his potential for enlisting Church forces.

  The sorcerer stood in the dungeon chamber before his articles of magick and arcane gramarye and performed the ritual. At its culmination he ingested the scrapings of Gonji’s blood he had obtained after the samurai’s duel with Julian. Then he reclined on the stone altar so that he might depart his body, stretch out with his astral being at the end of the long mystical silver cord, find the unwitting fool wherever his barbarian blood pulsed.

  As always, the blood-search rewarded him: The oriental rode through the valley on a southerly course.

  But something else could be felt—the pulsing of the great key, that mystery object that had baffled Mord, troubled him with its conflicting emanations for weeks. As the oriental rode on, the supernatural radiations grew stronger. Could he be riding toward a meeting with the elusive Being that exerted its enigmatic presence in the territory?

  Mord’s unsavory mind smiled. For the longer he followed, the more certain he became.

  Abruptly the wyvern was awakened from its demon sleep atop Mord’s tower high above Castle Lenska. Screeching in response to its master’s call, it flapped from its perch on thirty-foot wings and careened about the castle twice, eagerly accepting the controlling mind of Mord. Mord’s eyes of baleful ebon supplanted the flying beast’s red orbs as it pushed off with a tremendous gush of wind toward the south.

  Toward the lone rider who thundered through the sylvan valley.

  * * * *

  Flavio swings from a gibbet, and Tralayn’s been dragged off in shackles—how does that sit with your self-pitying—Iye. No, that was no good....

  You ignore the plight of these people who are dying for you—

  Gonji cursed and shook his head as the gray roncin mare clumped through the enshrouding forest. His jaw set with grim determination, swords jiggling in his sash with the bouncing motion of his ride, the samurai pondered glumly: Exactly how did one shame a legend that walked hand-in-hand with death?

  Gonji had long since left the southern valley’s main trail, angling off along the path he had ridden scant days before with Tralayn, the path which led to that sinister cave concealed at the base of the northern foothills of the Carpathians’ lower curve. The steed snorted as it stumbled over snaring vine and eruptions of scrub and bramble.

  The samurai felt uncertain of his mount; she failed to respond to his subtle pressures on bridle and flanks as the goodly Tora would have. But Tora had not been found in the catacombs after the battle with the venomous slithering beast, and the thought that his prize stallion might have become a meal for the loathsome monster inflamed him with a shapeless, futile anger. He would have to bring such disruptive emotion under control for the meeting to come, if come it must.

  And his roiling feelings were not his only enemies this night: the long day had exacted a toll; his whole body ached and sagged. The drinking bout and purging emetic had left his insides twisted. His belly churned with nausea. The brief, feverish sleep during the night of abortive rebellion in Vedun had done little to replenish his strength, and the day’s battle with the worm-thing from the underworld returned its impressions with fresh pains of half-remembered bruises and abrasions, cuts and lumps.

  Yet nothing so disturbed his harmony as the poignant memory of his failed duty on behalf of Flavio and the Elder’
s city.

  Cursing the despairing voice within that bade him surrender in the name of graceful failure, he rode on.

  Clenching his jaw, Gonji warded off the pine boughs that sought his face along the path, brushing and scraping at him and his mount, now and then twining about his mighty longbow so that he would be forced to halt and disentangle it. The forest seemed to grasp at him, hold him back from his purpose. But at whose behest?

  The roncin picked her footing in the cloying darkness. The path twisted through the lush, rich-smelling blackness of the forest, the horse’s hooves thudding over the spongy pad of pine needles and fecund earth, the verdant scents intoxicating.

  The night lay deep, heavy clouds mantling the treetops. Animals and insects ceased their trilling and chirruping as the man-beast clump crashed through their sanctum, only to take it up again, beratingly, at their backs as they rode on. Goatsuckers warbled their plaintive cry, and a judgmental owl hooted from the high limbs of a great oak that demarked a fork in the path. The air was cool but damp as sea spray.

  Or was it his own fear-sweat that chilled Gonji’s skin wherever his half-kimono brushed it?

  He growled low in his throat and spat out a gnat. The forest shroud thinned a bit, pilfering a few lonely rays of gray moonlight. Ahead the trees grew more sparse, disdaining to negotiate a knoll in the immediate distance, overgrown with dwarf pine and furze, creeping vines and wild berry bushes.

  Gonji paused to see the dance of silver light at the head of a knoll. And what might lie over the rise? Elven carousal in a private midnight amphitheater? Or was it a grim drama the creatures of the wood awaited, lacking only the arrival of the human participant?

  (further on you will meet our brothers)

  Gonji licked his dry lips and bared his teeth at the fanciful notion born of his wrath, almost wishing it were true, as he spurred the roncin into a canter and clumped up the knoll, his left hand resting on the Sagami’s hilt.

  Why does Mord let you live?