The Undead Hordes of Kan-Gul Read online

  Book One in an exciting new series, the Shadow Warrior saga.

  In the fog-enshrouded peaks of the island nation of Japan, Ran, a newly-minted ninja field operative is set loose on a musha shugyo, a wandering quest, whereby he must travel alone and hone his skills. Journeying from Japan to Korea aboard a merchant vessel, Ran hears tales of a mysterious lord believed to have the dead for his servants.

  Soon these tales prove all too real as Ran comes to the aid of Jysal, a beautiful sorceress, whose undeveloped power gives her the ability to heal a land -- or destroy it. But the Lord Kan-Gul also covets Jysal's power. And when Kan-Gul sends a army of the undead to take Jysal by force, Ran is faced with the ultimate warrior's choice: save himself, or face down a horde of enemies that cannot be killed for the simple reason that they are already dead!

  THE UNDEAD HORDES OF KAN-GUL

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Jon F. Merz

  A Baen Books Original

  Baen Publishing Enterprises

  P.O. Box 1403

  Riverdale, NY 10471

  www.baen.com

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4165-3916-2

  eISBN: 978-1-62579-189-4

  Cover art by Sam Kennedy

  First printing, September 2013

  Distributed by Simon & Schuster

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Merz, Jon F., 1969-

  The undead hordes of Kan-Gul / by Jon F. Merz.

  pages cm. -- (The shadow warrior ; book 1)

  ISBN 978-1-4165-3916-2 (trade pb : alk. paper)

  1. Ninja--Fiction. 2. Japanese--Korea--Fiction. 3. Magicians--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3613.E7885U53 2013

  813'.6--dc23

  2013015994

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  The Shadow Warrior

  The Undead Hordes of Kan-Gul

  Slavers of the Silk Road (forthcoming)

  The Temple of Demons (forthcoming)

  DEDICATION

  For my son William—born with the spirit

  of adventure and daring, yet gifted with

  compassion for all souls.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tucked away in the corner of the bar, Ran attracted little attention. Over the last few weeks, he’d allowed his beard to grow out, giving his face a decidedly shaggy appearance. His hair, longer than it had been when he’d left the mountains of Gakur, draped about his face, cloaking the majority of his features. But his keen eyes peered out through the loose strands, watching everyone who came into the tavern.

  A bowl of rice and fish sat before him, and he ate by burying his face into the mixture using his chopsticks to shovel in his food. Bits of briny morsels clung to his beard, and flecks of rice spattered the wooden bar top, drawing a frown from the tavern owner, watching this strange customer who had entered his business looking poor and unkempt but had paid with a single gold coin for food and drink. Then there was the fact that he wore a curved sword that commanded respect despite his appearance. Few would be foolish enough to wear such a blade unless they knew how to use it

  Ran read the tavern owner’s facial expressions and body language, not to mention the guttural noises the man made when he glanced in Ran’s direction. These betrayed far more than if the man had simply spoken.

  The tavern owner probably didn’t think Ran was Murai—the warrior class that dominated this region—but he could be a former Murai who had left service or been on the losing side of a clan war and had taken to wandering in search of money. He’d no doubt seen such men before. And while they might have none of the honor and grace of a proper Murai warrior, they were nevertheless lethal and deserved a wide berth.

  It was even more obvious the tavern owner thought Ran was a slob. The sooner he could get Ran out his tavern, the better.

  It was exactly what Ran wanted. Tavern owners were notorious gossips, and Ran wanted no one asking him questions and digging for information about who he was. His safety depended on people avoiding him or, even more preferable, not noticing him at all. In a tavern, Ran had to make himself as unapproachable as possible. Places like this usually had a few braggarts about who would bother you if you simply tried to be unobtrusive. So Ran had adopted an appearance that kept civilized people at bay while adding a hint of potential danger.

  He hoped it would work.

  The docks outside the tavern were busy: scores of ships were moored, gathering supplies or unloading trade goods from across the Dark Sea.

  Ran hoped to journey west—far west—all the way to the kingdom of Valrus, home of Princess Cassandra. Ran had rescued the princess from an evil sorcerer. But after rescuing her, Ran had not been able join Cassandra on her long journey home, for he had an obligation to his clan—the Nine Daggers. So, after an awkward parting, he had returned to his clan’s domain amid the misty peaks of the Gakur. Even as he did so, Ran longed to journey with the princess, to see her safely returned to her people.

  After informing his clan leaders of his encounter with the sorcerer, Ran was sent on a shugyo, a wandering quest meant to prove he was actually ready to become a full member of the clan, to put its needs before his own selfish desires.

  Ran had departed almost immediately, for he knew his destination. And the next step in this long journey would be to cross the Dark Sea.

  Ran returned his gaze to the Aqaria. This unassuming trading vessel would be his means of leaving Nehon, would deliver him to Igul and the lands beyond.

  The door to the tavern opened and two women walked in. One of them was draped in a dizzying array of silks that wound around her body and tucked into her curves. Her almond-colored skin offered a contrast to the swirl of colors. Her sharp eyes, tilted up at the corners, drew Ran’s attention as did the intricate tattoo that covered part of her face. She was so beautiful, for a moment Ran forgot all about Cassandra.

  But then his training kicked in, and his eyes were quickly drawn to the woman at her side. This woman moved like a warrior. And her appearance left little doubt about that fact. Half a dozen throwing knives sat in horizontal sheaths running obliquely from her left shoulder to her right hip. A sword rested at her side, shorter than most of the ones Ran had seen before. Judging by her gait, the way she wore her weapons, and her shifting gaze as she took in each of the occupants of the tavern, she was well trained as both a warrior and a bodyguard.

  They were an interesting pair, Ran decided. He belched once, which instantly drew a sidelong glance from the warrior woman. He grunted once approvingly. The young pretty one would need looking after in a place like this, no doubt.

  Ran washed a mouthful of food down with a swig of rice wine from the small porcelain cup in front of him. He didn’t like the idea of drinking and risking his awareness, but if he did something out of character, it might stand out in the memory of the tavern owner. Ran’s teachers at his clan had been most insistent about the need to completely throw oneself into whatever disguise one attempted. Partial attempts never succeeded; Ran had to look and act the part. Most importantly, he had to believe he truly was who he appeared to be.

  The two women sat at one of the smaller tables close to the hearth. For the moment, Ran tucked them away because his attention was drawn to another newcomer who had just stormed into the tavern.

  “Barkeep! Serve me some of that tasty rice wine you make so well. I am parched from a day of business.” Rotund and tall, with flaming locks of red, the man stood a few stool
s away from Ran and proceeded to down several cups of the rice wine. Ran busied himself with eating, but he made sure to catalog the foreigner’s movements.

  It was certain he was from the northern lands far from the shores of Nehon. A trader, no doubt. Ran noted that his hands seemed free of the heavy calluses that would have marked him as a warrior or a laborer. No, Ran decided, this one would do battle with sums of money, not with the edge of a sword or axe, nor with the tools of a craftsman.

  The Northerner swung his ample girth onto a stool and spent several moments adjusting himself until he managed to achieve some degree of balance. Then he put both hands palms down on the bar and smiled at the tavern owner. “The name is Vargul.”

  The tavern owner gave him a small grin, but it was clear he cared little for the boisterous man. Still, when Vargul laid several gold coins on the counter, the tavern owner’s eyes gleamed. The coins vanished and were replaced by several more cups of rice wine that Vargul downed immediately.

  Ran frowned. The trader was out of his element. Displaying that sort of wealth wasn’t wise at the docks. Ran had already noted at least three scroungy men paying far too much attention to the red-haired foreigner now that they had seen his money. Ran set his chopsticks down and swished a bit more rice wine into his mouth.

  It wasn’t a question of if one of the men would move on Vargul. It was only a question of when and who.

  Ran didn’t have to wait long. From his right side, he sensed movement and saw a tall, lean figure cut across the room. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Instead, he sat down next to Vargul at the bar.

  Vargul turned in his seat, a broad smile spilling across his face. “Hello!”

  The man grinned and showed no teeth, causing Vargul to pull back. But then the man grabbed hold of Vargul’s left hand and pulled him in closer. “You seem to have a lot of gold, my friend. How about giving me some of it?”

  Vargul sputtered and looked at the tavern keeper for help. But the owner wasn’t interested in getting involved. Ran knew the type. They would only get involved if they themselves were threatened. Otherwise, they had to remain above the fray if they had any hope of staying in business.

  “He won’t help you,” said the man. “Give me your purse.”

  Vargul shook his head and sputtered something that sounded unintelligible to Ran. It did little good, because in the next breath, the wiry man moved suddenly and had a knife at Vargul’s throat.

  “I could slice your throat open and take it myself.”

  Vargul froze.

  Ran sighed. The merchant obviously had no common sense hiding anywhere about his voluminous proportions. And because of that, Ran now faced a decision: get involved or let Vargul lose all of his money.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ran noted that the pair of women were watching the exchange closely. The warrior in particular sat motionless. But Ran noticed that one of her hands had strayed toward her throwing knives. If she acted, the entire scene in the tavern could explode into a bloodbath. That would result in the local authorities coming in to break it up, asking all sorts of questions. Ran certainly didn’t want that to happen.

  As Vargul shied away from the knife beneath his chin, Ran shoved his bowl away suddenly. As he did so, the door to the tavern opened and a man stood in the light. He was heavy, but much of his bulk seemed to be muscle. It was Malkyr, the captain of the Aqaria.

  “The Aqaria sails in ten minutes. Anyone who has secured passage should get aboard now. I don’t wait for stragglers.”

  The pair of women immediately rose and moved toward the door. Ran saw his opportunity. He rose from his seat, and, while everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere, he came up behind the ruffian and jammed the tip of his left thumb into the area right above the cutthroat’s kidneys, boring it in to create maximum pain. As the thug reacted by arching his back, Ran used his right hand to knock the knife arm to the left and away from Vargul’s throat.

  Even as the ruffian stumbled off the bar stool, Ran plucked Vargul from the stool and shoved him toward the door. “Our ride awaits.” Ran hustled him outside before Vargul could even comprehend what had just happened.

  Ran didn’t want to wait around for the thug to regain himself and come back for revenge.

  Outside, the sun had vanished behind gray clouds. Ran frowned. It had been bright and sunny earlier. The prospect of traveling during a storm didn’t sit well with him. Especially since he disliked boats. But reuniting with Cassandra meant crossing the Dark Sea, so that was where his path lay.

  Vargul managed to find his voice. “How—what did you do back there?”

  Ran shook his head as he moved them through the throngs of people clogging the docks. “Saved your life and your purse, near as I can figure. Do yourself a favor: from now on, don’t go showing off your wealth around the docks. It’s a damned foolish thing to do. I know up North, people seemed a lot more civilized and you obviously felt free to flaunt your wealth. But down here, that will get you killed and your body dumped into the sea.”

  “Then I am indebted to you, my young friend.” Vargul clapped him on the back. “And I always repay my debts.”

  Ran led him down toward the gangplank of the Aqaria. “I’m glad to hear you say that. You see, I haven’t purchased a fare yet for this trip.”

  Malkyr stood at the top of the gangplank and welcomed Vargul aboard. Then his eyes turned to Ran and narrowed. “What do we have here?”

  But Vargul was true to his word. He wrapped an arm around Ran’s shoulders and smiled at Malkyr. “My friend. You don’t mind if I bring him along, do you?”

  “Are you paying his way?”

  “Of course.”

  Malkyr stepped back to let them both pass. “Then he is most welcome.”

  As Ran passed by, Malkyr put one hand up. “I certainly hope you have no reason to use those swords during this trip.”

  Ran glanced down at the twin blades he wore in his sash—one long and one short—that marked him as a warrior. He smiled at Malkyr. “So do I.”

  Malkyr stepped aside as Ran felt his feet touch the deck of the Aqaria for the first time. The ship lolled gently at its mooring and Ran’s stomach rolled with it. He grimaced and wondered whether eating had been wise. Still, it had been a long journey, and it was better to have a full stomach than not. He glanced overhead and saw the gray clouds had been joined by darker ones.

  “Don’t let them bother you,” said Malkyr as his gaze also turned to the darkening clouds. “The gods always throw us a party when we sail.”

  “Do they?”

  Malkyr winked. “I’ve ridden out far worse storms than the one that seems to be brewing now. And this ship is the finest I’ve ever sailed. She’ll get us where we need to be.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Ran. He moved farther aboard as Malkyr began calling out orders to cast off. Ran watched the deckhands scramble from bow to stern, throwing lines back toward the docks. Malkyr called for one of the sails to be raised. As the wind caught hold of it, the Aqaria pulled away from the dock, into the deeper part of the channel that led to the open sea.

  Ran headed for the midships and braced himself. Ahead of him, the Dark Sea stretched like a hungry maw. It looked capable of swallowing the entire land. The Aqaria wouldn’t even be a single bite. With a final look, Ran turned and descended into the bowels of the ship to wait out the coming storm.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The spray of salt water lashed across the bow of the Aqaria as it cut its way through the trough of another wave. The unending up and down as waves rose and fell under the keel made Ran’s stomach heave. As the bottom of another wave dropped out, Ran bit his tongue to stem to rising gorge in his throat. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bulwark with his right hand and the hilt of his curved sword with his left.

  “We couldn’t have waited until the storm subsided?”

  His question produced a loud bellowing laugh from the stern of the boat, where Malkyr handled the wheel with n
onchalance as he faced the storm. “Too rough for you, then?” He ran a hand through his thick, coarse beard, where briny droplets glistened. “The Dark Sea is always like this. It doesn’t matter when we set sail. So best to get on with it, eh?”

  Best to get us back on to dry ground, thought Ran. Ahead of the boat, he saw only dark clouds and darker waves. The ship on which he sailed seemed terribly small in comparison to the brewing tempest. He’d started the journey belowdecks, but when the waves had started tossing the Aqaria about, he’d decided it was better to at least have fresh air while he convulsively emptied fish and rice into the surging sea.

  He forced himself to grin; the fact that he was seasick humbled him. A recent graduate from the many arduous years of shadow-warrior training, Ran had seen a fair share of combat. Yet despite his fighting prowess, the sea had beaten his formerly iron stomach. If his teachers could see him now, they would undoubtedly dispense a lesson about Ran’s need to keep his ego in check. They would lecture him that his ego would grant his enemies a way to control and manipulate him.

  But the teachers and the school of the Nine Daggers itself were many leagues to the east, hidden away behind a veil of perpetual fog in the mountains and valleys of Gakur. There, the Shinobujin had trained for generations, perfecting their abilities far from the prying eyes of those who would wish them harm. Famed for their ability to steal secrets, infiltrate impregnable castles, and hide in plain sight, the shadow warriors bore a fearsome reputation for their cunning and guile as well as their use of both traditional and unorthodox weapons. And if those failed, their skills in unarmed combat were also legendary.