Evil Times Ch 01

Evil times were upon the land.

The daimyo quarreled amongst themselves endlessly. Battlefields were strewn with corpses of noble men and piles of heads were searched by fretful women, hoping and not hoping to see the sightless eyes of the youth she loved.

She had not even that comfort. Her brother, the lord of the province, had been taken as trophy, leaving her, and the few retainers left, to keep the hope of the small village alive.

She had little hope of that for, closely following the armies, would come the brigands, preying upon those whose lives had already been shattered.

Two days before, a small mounted band had arrived, riding into the courtyard, onto the veranda of the house, shouting that tribute was due the conquerors. Conquerors! Only foul smelling vultures, strutting boldly because no one was here to spill their stinking entrails on the ground. The women of the household had armed themselves with naginata and forced the horsemen back outside the gate.

"You will all pay for this rudeness." They laughed as they spurred their horses into the night.

She wrung her hands in despair. These were only scouts, a larger group would surely follow. Men, such as these, traveled in roving packs. She longed to join her brother in his release, but knew in her heart, her duty was to these living. They had chosen to stand by her, she must stand by them.

Taking old Hiromusa, she traveled to the town in the next province. Occasionally, honorable men could be found to deal with the bands of brigands. The road was full of weary, armed men moving to the next battlefield, and civilians fleeing aimlessly, one direction or another. Surely, some few would come to her aid. She had little to offer, the war had taken its toll of the once happy estate. She had given what she could to departing bushi, now ronin, cast into the void with no master.

She passed some of these now, hanging their heads in shame, and avoiding her eyes as she passed. Word had arrived. They bandit gang, Crimson Hand, was moving into the area. Stories of their depredations proceeded them from refugees from the next town on the Hokkaido. The town had put up resistance and was put to the torch, burning men, women, children , old and young, inside their paper houses. People who did not burn received a worse fate. An orgy of rape and pillaging followed, filled with indescribable horror. Speared bodies lined the road as it approached the smoldering ruins of the town.

She moved on to the inn, where the drinking had commenced early. Drunken singing proceeded her into the room where a large group of men was engaged in drinking, fondling the waitresses, and gambling.

A hush fell over the room when she entered, her fine kimono and carefully made up features, now strangely out of place in this once quiet town on the edge of the abyss.

"Please excuse me," she said, breaking the silence, "I'm looking for help."

A short silence was followed by a roar of laughter.

"I'll help you," A drunken rouge staggered to his feet, pulling his flaccid penis from his loincloth and waggling it at her. "Come here, wench," His friends pushed him on.

Hiromusa place himself in front of her, hand on his sword, "Do none of you have any honor?"

Laughing, men grabbed him by either elbow and pushed him back and forth between them.

"Have a drink and be quiet, old man."

Attention now focused back upon her as Hiromusa was forced to sit, held between several of the men. The drunk staggered up to her, trying to focus his drunken eyes on her face, breathing harshly, inches away from her. She tried to remain calm, looking about the room for some help or escape. He grabbed her breasts with his filthy hands, smearing the beautiful silk of her kimono. She stared fixedly ahead, trying to hold back the tears of rage and shame forming in the corners of her eyes, as she swatted his groping hands aside. Finally, he grabbed her bodily and began trying to kiss her mouth as his hands roamed over her body. More men got up to join in the sport. Several began clearing a space to lay her on a table.

"Enough." A voice cut through the laughter. Besotted heads swiveled to find its source.

A quiet figure sat in the dark shadows in the corner of the room. He didn't look up, but sat calmly eating his noodles and ignoring them. Several swaggered over to examine him, hands arrogantly moving to their swords, and saw a man, much like themselves, but somehow, very different. He was dressed as they were, ragtag bits of armor, worn hakama, hair tied up loosely. He was obviously from someplace far away though. To evidence this was the huge two handed flamberge, leaning against the wall next to his table.

When he did look up at them, they stepped back in unconscious reaction. His eyes had a smoldering light of their own. He stood and walked over to Hiromusa, a path clearing before him. The two men holding him backed away and he helped him stand and move over to her. He touched her elbow gently and led them from the inn.

Standing in the street, she bowed and thanked him. He turned to walk away. She watched him for a short distance, then, coming to a decision, she ran after him.

"Sir, please, a moment."

He turned to her. She noticed the strange fire had retreated and he now regarded her with sad eyes.

"My Lady, you do not want my help. Where I go there is only death."

She knelt in the dirt street and bowed before him, "Sir, to return alone means death to my household and myself. As you can see there are none to help but I must try." She remained, bowing before him in the dirt road.

For a long time he was silent, looking at her, then his face softened and he said, "Very well."

The walk back to the village was made in silence, the man absorbed in thought, she concerned with her own fears. As they crested the ridge in the road overlooking the village he stopped.

"I must not go in. Listen carefully, tonight will be the night. No one from the village must go outside," He looked meaningfully to Hiromusa, "Do you understand?"

They nodded mutely, not understanding at all.

"Whatever you think you see or hear, keep the villagers gathered in your house tonight and do not come out until dawn." With that, he turned off the trail and vanished into the woods.

She started to follow but Hiromusa laid a restraining hand on her arm and they walked alone down the road into the village.

A wail of anguish arose as the villagers saw her returning without help. She had little comfort to give them nor little for herself. She had failed and their lives were forfeit. The strange man she had found would desert them and leave them to their fates. She instructed the headman to assemble the villagers within the walls for the approaching night. They would make what fight they could there on grounds more suited for defense.

The gates were barred and weapons were given from the now useless armory to those fit to use them. The arsenal of fine swords and armor would go unused Naginata would serve better for their defense. Most of the women of the household had been trained in its use. Hiromusa saw to the arrangements for the defense, selecting archers, showing the bushi women the paths of retreat. Better to die in flames, defending what's yours, then to submit passively like sheep. She looked up into the rising full moon, surrounded by a halo of mist, and felt a shiver go up her spine. She knew her fate would be worse and went to prepare herself to join her brother before such a shame could befall her. She would not be taken alive.

The horsemen crested the ridge and looked down upon their objective. The village, laid out below them was still. The only lights were ablaze in the manor house upon a small rise on the other side of the village. There the gates were barred and he could see figures on the walls silhouetted by the lights behind. They rode through the deserted village, forty strong, eager for action. Their sounds of the horses' hooves echoed eerily from the facades of the surrounding homes and shops. The mounts neighed excitedly as the lusts of the men were transmitted to them. There was blood in the air heightened by the shadows dancing in the silvery moonlight.

The band headed straight for the manor house. The leader himself rode to the edge of the clearing surrounding the walls and surveyed the defense. Nothing but old men and women here, this would be easy. He yelled at the house, "Is this what you want? You will all die. Open the gates and you will live." For a short time, he said to himself.

A sobbing arose from within but the gates remained closed. An arrow from the walls plunged into the ground in front of his horse causing it to shy nervously. He retained control and wheeling returned to his waiting men.

"Cut some trees, break in the gates and do with them what you like. The fools want to die."

The men fell to work and soon the assault on the gates began. A battering ram pounded at the gate, unhampered by flights of arrows or burning pitch poured from above. Archers in the wood line pinned down the defenders on the walls forcing them to retreat into the courtyard or be killed by a hail of arrows. With no defense the gates were soon hanging forlorn on their hinges as the brigands fought their way inside the walls, pressing against the ring of naginata that faced them.

She sat in her white kimono, at the head of the audition room where the villagers were gathered, a small, erect, silent figure. The noise of the fighting outside was nearing and the villagers cowered against each other in fear. She sat immobile, the tanto lay naked on the tatami before her knees. She scarcely heard the noises from outside, so engrossed was she in that shiny blade. She had entered a state where life was behind her. All that mattered was release from this world of pain.

The defenders fought frenziedly, the ring of steel slashing at legs, arms, and bodies. But, occasionally a defender would be overwhelmed and fall. Her comrades had to adjust their ring to cover her space and the ring gradually contracted inward, to the house. Hiromusa, and a small band of elderly swordsmen, rushed to the weakened areas to hold the ground with sword and yari, allowing the defense time to adjust. They were finally pushed into the very audition room itself and their efforts intensified, knowing this was their final stand.

She leaned forward to grasp the knife when the sounds from outside noticeably changed from the clash of steel to screams of terror and agony, mingled with the shrill whinnying of horses. This went on for many minutes, quiet for awhile then more of the horrible screaming. It sounded as if the very demons of hell had been unleashed this night. The people inside looked at each other unsurely, listening to the noises from outside. One of the brigands came up onto the veranda, facing, not into the hall, but out into the night. Some unseen force plucked him away screaming. Finally there was only silence.

Hiromusa walked up to her white-faced and knelt, exhausted, saying nothing.

She released her grip on the tanto, rose, and moved through the ranks of silent villagers to look out into the moonlit night.

Odd bundles were strewn around the courtyard. Several horses ran riderless around, crazed eyes reflecting the glow of the moon, totally mad with fright. Seeing nothing to fear, she walked onto the veranda and leaned on the railing, only to find it slick with dark blood. One of the horses started away from the gate and she thought she glimpsed a figure standing there in the moonlight, watching her. Then she caught a rippled reflection of silver and recognized the huge flamberge as the figure turned and melted into the darkness.

Forgetting the instructions she ran to the steps and followed the figure down the path to the village graveyard, losing it sometimes in the soft light. She followed, ghostlike herself in her white kimono, long black hair trailing behind. Keeping to the path, she came to the clearing where the houses of the dead cast strange shadows in the moonlight. Looking around, she found the figure kneeling in front of one of the Christian crosses. She moved towards him slowing as she could see his back shaking violently and deep sobs were wrenched from his throat. As she moved up behind him she saw his armor was coated in gore. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned snarling, and she saw, not the young man, but a mask of terror. Huge jaws gnashed as the creature leapt on her, knocking her to the ground and pinning her under him. Clawed fingers ripped at her clothes and she looked up, past the dripping canines, to eyes burning with an intense flame.

She should be dead, she knew, many times over, but the creature remained poised over her, glowing eyes looking deep into her own. Suddenly, she felt a hot pressure at her crotch and, looking down, saw an immense erection pressing into her kimono. Startled, she looked back in those eyes and in a strange way found herself caressed by the fire inside. She reached down and tentatively took hold of the cock with one hand. The beast remained still. The heat of it felt as though it should burn her palm and it jerked as she touched it.

"You have done what no one else would do. Everything I am is yours," She said, and with the other hand undid her kimono. She exposed her omeko, rubbed the head of the swollen cock along it, parting her lips, and spreading her legs, accepted it into her body.

Released, the creature began to fuck her wildly, driving its cock into her repeatedly, with animalistic fury, while she writhed beneath him. His grunts and snarls mingled with hers until with a final lunge he lifted his head to the moon and gave out a heart stopping howl and collapsed atop her, shooting deep within her. She could feel the cum burning inside her. She locked her legs around him and pulled him tightly to her as she came again and again.

She watched as the fire in the eyes dimmed and the features melted and reshaped themselves. Still she held him until it was the strange man who lay with his cock buried deep within her.

He looked at her with eyes filled with love and at the same time regret, "More than you know."

He looked down at her tenderly, reaching out to move long wisps of black hair from her face. Feeling a strange, surprising passion she grabbed his head and pulled his mouth to her own.. She felt his cock, now an ordinary man's, expanding inside her, filling her, and thrust her hips up to meet it. This time their coupling was one of love and need. Slowly, gently, he stoked her fires again until she came, released from the plague of doubts of the world of tears, secure, with his body one with hers.

They lay on the grass in the graveyard, watching the stars. The strange moon had passed, beginning another cycle. Her life too, she knew, had entered another cycle.