Keeper of the Vengeance: The Keeper Trilogy, #3

By Alyssa Lauseng

Vengeance will come.

At the end of a disastrous revolution, Kulako and Sonika are torn apart by miles of sea. Their only son, Kohaku, has been captured by the Giahatio to be trained as an assassin—a hitokiri.

"We're still here."

In a final bid for his protection, Kohaku's memories were shattered like the rest of the rebellion's aspirations, left to dance in the future's uncertain winds. As he struggles to retain his identity and sanity against Emperor Akuko's infamous cruelty, the fires of vengeance ignite across the world, reaching as far as the spirits as they call,

"Death to the Empire."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
• Release date: Dec 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201414603

Alyssa Lauseng

Alyssa Lauseng is a fantasy writer who lives in Michigan's beautiful Upper Peninsula with her husband, two warrior princesses, and moose-dog. When not writing or momm-ing, she practices Kuk Sool Won, listens to metal, and tries to draw. Her upcoming novel, keeper of the fallen, is a light adult fantasy which includes romantic themes, fighting for what is right, and having the courage to do so. She can be found on Twitter @5FeetofRedFury and will nerd out about just about anything with you.

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One: The Price of Failure

The bright sun and cool breeze gently touched Akuko’s face as he approached the Palace’s main grounds with his surrounding guards. He ordered them to leave their spears pointed toward the sky from the moment they left the throne room; he didn’t want the masses to feel threatened before they knew why or had time to sense the danger behind his address. A sea of gathered constituents crowded the entry gate, anticipating his word. He pulled his shoulders back while interlocking his fingers in front at chest level, and the guards fanned out in a formation on each side of him. Regal, unwavering, just as he’d always been taught, successfully reminding the insects of his power with a convincing show of grace he had no desire to extend to anyone. Speculative conversations of whatever nonsense the rich and poor debated fell silent, tensely awaiting what the Emperor expected from his citizens.

Cherry blossoms from a nearby tree fluttered past. Akuko inhaled their soft floral essence, unwilling to deny himself the simple pleasure of enjoying spring’s full bloom in times of distress, along with the gratification of absorbing the palpable fears of his wide-eyed people. It warmed him like a glass of Noshian red wine on a winter’s night. However, he did not indulge in the decadence for long; the rabble still sought an address from their Emperor.

Citizens, you are all aware by now that the unity of our precious empire was threatened by violent insurrectionists who amassed an army of traitors to the crown. I am pleased to announce that those disgraces have been cast back into the deepest pit of Kuro’s hells where they belong. Their leader was slain. We captured many on the battlefield and dredged up others from their hiding places all around the country. All have been imprisoned, or worse.

An uncertain round of applause resonated, becoming a more defined form of congratulations at the ushering of soldiers flanking the Emperor and his main armament. The terror his speech inspired in the bugs’ faces amused him, but Akuko hadn’t finished yet. The next phrases would feed the buzzing colony their scraps.

"However, there are still a few so-called ‘revolutionists’ who remain at large, fugitives from the law, possibly hiding here in our sacred home of Perena. We must unify, strengthening our civic duty to bring these terrorists to justice. City workers will hang notices with appropriate information for identification, meaning we will find the rebels. Anyone caught or suspected of harboring any of these criminals shall be labeled a traitor to the crown, punished accordingly, and sentenced to an excruciating public execution, Akuko’s black eyes raked over the deafeningly silent mob. After a moment of searching for signs of dissent, he dipped his head.  To the Empire."

To the Empire! a collective bellow repeated. Generals moved through the audience to expel the vermin in an orderly manner. Akuko breathed in slowly to contain his disgust, then turned with a dramatic sweep of his robes.

A rallying speech, Sire, said a craggy voice from an abandoned archway above, where spies crawled like spiders.

Spare me, the Emperor hissed, retreating into the Palace once more with the second presence trailing him as he disappeared into his sanctuary.  What have your sources found?

Nothing, the voice haltingly responded; appropriate nervousness, Akuko deemed. We did not recover a body from the battlefield, nor any evidence to place him at locations from where he may have operated. No trace of the man anywhere, not even here in the city.

Akuko pursed his lips as he pushed on the gold ornamentations of a door to an empty reception hall. What information do you have concerning the other Akahana, then? Daisuke.

Petrified violet eyes locked onto the Emperor as he entered the ballroom. Standing with his arms behind his back, Daisuke appeared to have obeyed the instruction to wait while the Emperor gave his speech. Despite his firm posture, Akuko saw a tiny hint of fear widen the spy’s eyes slightly, especially upon hearing his name. A scurrying little coward, but a clever one whose intentions were often buried within a myriad of twisted conversations and omitted truth. Akuko regarded Daisuke’s reaction cautiously.

"This Akahana, the Emperor’s companion begrudgingly continued. Somehow got word that the elite man Fujio was assigned to poison the Elemental clan Hinatako brought from Oshosha. For unknown reasons, he decided to interfere."

Really? Akuko critically arched an eyebrow at the quivering infiltrator. Though he made a habit of not revealing emotion, he found the expression gave away the perfect amount of tumult, easily inflicting terror on his inferiors. The way Daisuke’s jaw set to repress whatever he felt seemed like sufficient proof, enabling Akuko to abandon his previous suspicions. Perhaps their last direct correspondence seven years prior had resonated with the spy. Akuko hated repeating himself, so he thought it to be for the better.

Scouts located Fujio’s savagely beaten body near the abandoned Oshoshan tent, yet this worthless slaveborn came sniveling back to us.

Sniveling, perhaps, but hardly worthless at this point, Akuko approached his intelligence agent as he calculated the report’s details. When he smiled emotionlessly, Daisuke’s eyes widened further. He hooked his index finger under the spy’s chin and delicately applied pressure to tilt his head back.  What an alarming set of coincidences, my little snake. Tell me what happened. What made you decide to jump on a ship and go where you didn’t belong?

I’d heard that you sent Fujio alone since the other three elites were killed in Baohu. He made no motion to acknowledge the subtle but undeniable twitch of anger in the Emperor’s face. Past or present, no human chipped away at Akuko’s façade of indifference better than Daisuke. I’ve been communicating with people on Oshosha for years. I worried that Fujio didn’t know what he was facing with the Elementals.

You wanted to help. Is that your defense?

Yes, Your—

Were you trying to help your brother or your Emperor, you slithering little fool? Akuko tore his hand away and allowed his temper to seep through, quickly regaining control when the skinny spy flinched with a barely audible whimper. "It seems that family causes quite a few problems among the ranks. Fortunately, I believe that I have taken the correct steps to resolve such an issue, and prevent it from happening again. As much as I’d like to do something about you, you’ve made yourself far too valuable to incapacitate. Filth. I sincerely hope I don’t see you for weeks."

Daisuke bowed at the waist. I-I understand, Your Highness.

"Your Majesty," Akuko subconsciously touched the pendant containing the Shadow God’s blessing.

Your Majesty, Daisuke somberly amended after a nervous swallow, stealing a glimpse of the Emperor’s jewelry.

Then get out of my sight, Akuko smiled cruelly. Unless, of course, you’d rather visit my bed-chamber.

Daisuke’s eyes dropped to his feet. He said nothing for a moment, opened his mouth as if to speak, then wisely decided to remain silent. He bowed again without looking up, then acted on the Emperor’s order. When he’d fully withdrawn from the room, Akuko rubbed his temples and sighed.

The owner of the voice materialized from the shadows, standing directly behind Akuko. Your Majesty, are you sure—

Akuko turned with an undisguised scowl. "Mind your place, Ewah. A woman handed you that horrible scar, which means I hardly need to take your criticism or questions. Besides, if I were you and needed to prove that I was still worthy of my rank, I’d be getting right to work. Do not forget that they are expecting you at Kurushima this evening, as well. As for the rodents who scurried away, redouble your efforts to locate them. It would appear that Hitokiri Nightshade is among those who escaped with their lives, and he will pay for his sins against the Empire."

DAISUKE SIGHED; PROVOKING Akuko without repercussions was a delicate process, part of an unfriendly game they’d played for years. This round had left him exceptionally exhausted. The Emperor’s words endlessly repeated in his mind as he aimlessly roamed the streets of the Capital, finding a headache on nearly every corner. Relentless victory celebrations continued throughout the city a week after public executions of stray revolutionists; Akuko’s ceremonial kodachi had carried out their murders. Daisuke wanted nothing more than a moment’s worth of respite from wondering if he’d somehow sabotaged the rebellion by not detecting Master Ewah’s intentions with Fujio sooner, but found no relief, not when the reminders constantly surrounded him. He couldn’t understand how Hikaru’s army hadn’t won the battle, even after analyzing it from every possible angle. Armies had defeated greater odds in the past. From his hiding place, while stowing away, he’d heard soldiers claim that His Majesty had invoked otherworldly powers to help preserve the Empire, information which seemed dubious at best.

Rumors didn’t change anything, nor did the truth behind them. With no one to turn to, self-hate ate Daisuke alive, daily. In addition to a sudden influx of work keeping them apart, rightfully so, he was sure Obito was still upset with him for recklessly throwing himself into danger. No potential survivors other than the ones already in Giahatian clutches had come forward, either.

Daisuke had never felt so utterly helpless; he didn’t even know where to start cleaning up the revolution’s messes.

He walked until he came upon the white cobblestones of the wharves, and his entire body jerked to a halt. An Imperial military ship with its black sails folded waited at the dock for its next voyage. Although Giahatian ships were impressive to behold, it was movement lumbering away from the vessel that had grabbed Daisuke’s attention. His heart wrenched when he saw Imperial men herding children in the direction of unmarked trails leading to Kurushima. Because of Hikaru, demolishing Genjing had been made a priority over the winter, leaving hundreds homeless at the edge of the Northern Perenin tundra. With only one training school remaining, overpopulation would soon add to the upcoming challenges those boys faced. Daisuke stepped forward when red hair became visible between the shoulders of meandering citizens. His chest tightened as his voice threatened to call out and stop the soldiers steadily advancing the lines of chained captives.

A hand firmly grasped his, just in time to save him from stupidity. Daisuke briefly closed his eyes to thank whatever entity might be listening, then berated himself for his intended actions; did he really think he could convince the soldiers to free the boys? Finally, he shifted to see who had stopped him, gratitude already on his tongue.

Obito, he said softly, relieved. He should have known; no matter the distance or obstacles between them, Obito read him as easily as the reports that came across his desk. When Obito gently squeezed his fingers for comfort, Daisuke hid his face with his free hand, straining against the burn of tears. My love, I—

I don’t need your thousandth apology, Daisuke; I’ve told you I forgive you just as many times by now. I’m sorry I’ve been too busy to help affirm that. We need to focus on making things right, though. That ship just came from the port in Imasu after a trip to Itake; they skipped Okara altogether this year due to the increase in saleable bodies from village raids while trying to flush out rebels. They’ve already unloaded the prospective slaves and are bringing them to the Old Square for auctioning. That’s where we need to go.

But, Daisuke desperately glanced at the lines of potential assassins, nearly lost among the crowd.

"That one will be plenty easy to keep track of, especially with a transfer to Genjing out of the picture. At the very least, we’ll know his location. Next, we need to locate the mother and work on an extraction plan for her. If we lose sight now, it could take us years to dig her back up again."

...Right.

Obito smiled a little and pressed his cheek to Daisuke’s before he turned for their new path. Daisuke followed, but not until after he stole one last look over his shoulder. The small glimpse he caught of his nephew’s auburn hair, bright red in the sunlight, tempted him toward his initial mission once more. Thankfully, an inarguable tug on his wrist from Obito kept him grounded.

The Old Square buzzed with double the activity of the wharves. Dull gray bricks in the center were scrubbed clean from the blood spilled during the most recent executions. Daisuke stuck close to Obito, not wanting to lose him in the chaos of auctions and passing citizens or risk someone mistaking him for a loose slave. Eyes alert and mind sharp, they observed from the sidelines, never approaching the thick of the horde. Daisuke abhorred watching the practices of the slave trade no matter where they took place. Determination overriding the social issues he felt needed attention and concentration fueled by the importance of his task, he found enough willpower to stay fixated on pinpointing his target.

Daisuke, darling, I just realized, Obito cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a light pink when his raven-haired companion glanced at him. I don’t believe I’ve ever met the woman. What does she look like? 

My love, she’s Okami. Don’t overthink it, Daisuke grinned, playfully scratching Obito’s stubble as he turned back to his work. His heart jumped into his throat, and he grabbed his partner by the jaw, firmly redirecting his attention. There. Sonika’s right there.

Listless as she was, empty as her spirit seemed, there was no denying Sonika’s traditional Okami clothing or the bright gold of her eyes. Hoping her gaze would find him, Daisuke traced her every movement as slavers loaded her onto a cart with others, not far from the two spies on the outskirts. Obito stayed silent as he watched the cart clatter away at the pull of mules.

Shouldn’t we follow? Daisuke asked, barely controlling the discontent rushing at him.

We wouldn’t be able to catch them on foot, even to shadow. Besides, I recognize the brands on those mules. Do you have any information I can sell?

Of course, but I doubt it’s anything terribly useful.

It doesn’t need to be. I’ll ask Heili to start communications with my contact when we get home, Obito looped his arm around Daisuke’s waist. We need to choose our next steps, but perhaps you should rest first. You look so tired.

Daisuke rubbed his eyes, trying to shed the tiredness his partner mentioned. No, I’m fine. What is your plan, anyway?

Once my contact can confirm what I want to know and names his price, I’ll go the vineyard and—that’s right. I knew there was another reason why I specifically mentioned the port in Imasu earlier. Do we still hold the property in the mountains near there?

We blackmailed an entire family for it. You can’t be suggesting that I’d let our honest work go to waste.

I might actually be able to stay mad at you for once if you lost our access to the hot spring runoff. When was the last time you were up there?

It’s been a while, Daisuke admitted. He didn’t understand where Obito was going with his string of questions, too immersed in his calculations to try to figure it out.

Do you currently have an assignment? Obito prodded. His brows furrowed when Daisuke shook his head.

Just to stay out of the way, he sighed.

That must’ve stung, but all the more reason to send you to the countryside. Go to Imasu and make sure to stock the house with supplies or anything else you think it needs. If we can get Sonika there somehow, she should be relatively safe and be able to stay out of sight until we can get momentum back under the revolution.

Daisuke blinked. You’ve gone mad. Nobody is going to want to hear a damn thing about revolution now; half of these people think the Emperor can read their minds and that he’ll personally come to kill them.

"Of course, I didn’t mean right away. Give it time, and they will. With the way His Majesty, Obito scowled at the title, is already speaking, it won’t be long until his grip on the Empire strangles it."

Daisuke considered Obito’s opinion, quickly resigning from the debate for once. It was too much to think about between guessing how long it would take, whether it would ever get bad enough, and if people really would support an idea that had already failed them so abysmally. Either way, Daisuke felt his task to be insufficient; surely, he could do far more to help. What else should I do? Do you want me to warn Sonika you’ll be coming?

Quite the opposite, Obito looked away, returning with sympathetic eyes. When he spoke again, he used the same nature as he did when dispatching hitokiri. You should stay back, in all regards, at least for now. You’re likely under suspicion from our superiors—Master Ewah included—and I don’t think Sonika or anyone else who knows about the Oshoshans should see you. So instead, I’ll need you to run another errand for me a little further north, not far from the Wen Valley.

Hang on, don’t those lands belong to your family? Do you need me to visit them?

Yes, as a matter of fact. I’d really appreciate it if you started a conversation with Kenji and Masaru, but please leave our eldest brother out of it. Check back in after you return from Imasu. Under no circumstances should you go if you’ve been given an assignment by then. In other words, behave.

Daisuke involuntarily rolled his eyes at the last word. "When should I start looking for my brother?"

I’m afraid it’s too early to tell, but...I promise you that the Empire won’t find him sooner than we do. My sweet akuma, please try to find peace in knowing you aren’t going to do much for a while.

It hurt, Daisuke couldn’t pretend otherwise, but he didn’t want Obito to know how sidelined he felt. Exhaustion and scattered emotions had made them fight enough the last few weeks, probably the most unfriendly arguments they’d accumulated in the entire course of their relationship. This battle being one he could afford to lose, he turned to his partner with a devious smirk. "If that’s all clear, can I get back under you now?"

Obito pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to resist a grin of his own to match Daisuke’s and failing miserably.

Two: Blank Slate

Kohaku’s mind felt hazy, or at least that was the best description he had for the fuzziness lingering around the edges of his consciousness. As the makeshift troop awkwardly plodded along a forested trail, the fog in his mind switched to the same dull throbbing that came with recovering from a horrible headache. He lifted his shackled hands as far as he could, hoping to shield his eyes from unbearably bright sunlight peering down between the branches above.

He didn’t remember anything that happened in his life before harsh men unloaded him from the ship with the boys currently marching in front of him. His name was Kohaku, and he was seven years old; those were the only certainties. Something cold touched his left side from within a pocket sewn to the inside of his shirt. With his hands tightly bound, he could only guess at what the object was.

The line slacked as some of the other boys began to tire. Kohaku urged the person in front of him to continue when he caught the dangerous eyes of the man walking nearest to them. Though among the smallest and at the back of the queue, the hike hadn’t affected him much. Even if it had, the displeasure on the men’s faces provided enough encouragement not to mind the steep mountain paths—if angered, they would react violently. Kohaku didn’t feel compelled to rush toward their destination, but he wanted to keep himself from harm. He glanced at the boy in front of him again. He didn’t deserve to be hurt, either.

Their journey ended near sundown. The woods cleared, and they stepped under the long shadows of imposing iron gates flanked by equally tall fences. Kohaku smelled blood; he’d been able to detect it for a while without pinpointing the source. His heart pounded as he helplessly stared at the gates in front of him, black against the fading sunlight. A shiver tingled down his spine. Darkness and sorrow shrouded the complex within; every inch of his body wanted nothing more than to run away, although he knew he couldn’t escape.

One of the line leaders nodded at a man hidden in the watchtower to the right. The gates opened with an agonizing creak, though only Kohaku seemed to be bothered by the high frequency. Upon realizing that no one else had the same adverse reaction to the noise, he forced himself to stand straight. He composed himself in just enough time, ahead of when the door revealed two rows of men with purple and silver ornamentation along the lapels of their black uniform shirts.

Bilge rats, Kohaku heard one mutter in disgust as he shoved a hand into the purple cloth belt at his waist.

A tall man stepped forward from between the lines of other grave-looking men. A long wound trailing from beneath his left eye to his jaw dominated his pock-marked face; the scar looked much newer than the thin gash at the opposite corner of his mouth. His dark green eyes harshly examined the newcomers, countenance scrunched into a hateful scowl. This man’s uniform boasted no unique filigree, and his cropped, dark brown hair was too short for the high ponytail in which the others kept theirs. Still, the men showed their obvious respect for him with bows at the waist when he stood between them and the lineup of terrified boys. Kohaku swallowed as he, with overwhelming confirmation, watched the