Messiah: Soldier of the Orient

Zhuang Heian Shan stood at the edge of the forest, his hands dripping with blood. His dagger — which he had only just received from his late father a week before — was bent out of shape. In his other hand was that day's lunch: a small rabbit.

Zhuang Ting Shan looked on from the dirt path a short distance away. There hadn't been a morsel of food left after Heian's klutz of a younger brother dropped the bulk of their supply into a river that morning.

"I take it that's not for me," the boy muttered, feeling guilty. The scar faced man only smirked.

"Maybe some leftovers, if you earn them," he replied. He then tilted his head in the direction of their remaining packs, hinting at the task that awaited Ting.

"From now until dusk?"

Heian nodded and watched as Ting struggled to lift the bundle of worn tools and clothing, much of which was salvaged from the river. His lean figure did little to help with the heavy lifting. His already sore legs wobbled as dry clumps of dirt crumbled away from the pack's underside.

"These supplies are so heavy!" sputtered Ting.

"Put a rag in it. If it were up to me, you'd be at home knitting tunics with grandma." The man let out a laugh as he approached, effortlessly picking up the other, marginally smaller pack as well as their weapons.

The pair continued their journey through the valley, walking past countless abandoned villages beneath the harsh, mid-day sun. Relics of their homeland's once flourishing populous had long since fallen into decay.

Ting felt his heart ache as he gazed at the crumbled remains of a large building. Despite their ancestors' plight as bearers of a fictitious curse, they managed to prosper on their own, establishing grand cities and booming economies. If only a previous emperor hadn't attributed their success to the odd, ash-like pigment that stained the center of their otherwise brown eyes.

A few hours soon passed, and already the scorching heat was bringing the younger of the two onto his knees for the uptenth time, much to the older's dismay.

"Come on, get up," ordered Heian. The temperature hardly seemed to faze him.

Ting didn't answer, instead plopping down into a slumped position. His face had begun to turn white.

"Fine, we can take a break." Heian turned away to put his cargo onto a nearby tree stump.

"Why are we doing this?"

Heian spun back around. His brother had finally spoken, but not in a tone he was particularly fond of.

"What did you say?"

Ting looked up to face Heian. "I said, why are we doing this?"

"You're going to have to be more specific." The man furrowed his brows. He knew exactly what Ting meant, but thought it wise to allow him a chance to rectify himself.

"Why are we journeying all the way out east to die for some royal hick sitting in a high throne?"

"Are you just looking for another reason to stall? You act as though we're going to be executed," hissed Heian. A vein on his right temple shown prominently as he clenched his fists.

"No, I've hated this idea from the start! And you forget that conscription into that imperial army will get us killed. Just like our ancestors were. Don't you get it brother? We're fodder facing yet another round of genocide."

Heian threw his pack to the ground. "This had nothing to do with what some ruler did a hundred years ago! We brought this on ourselves! Now we pay the price." His voice then drew quite. "We owe the emperor our lives. It is our own clan that has forsaken us, not him."

"No. Our clan—"

"Information is the most valuable asset in war, and all we've done was sell every bit that we could find to his sworn enemies. Our loyalty was always for sale."

Loyalty. Just hearing the word leave Heian's lips rocked Ting to the core. Centuries of bloody war raged within the valleys beneath their feet, inevitably reaching their doorstep before they knew it. Their elders did what they thought necessary to protect them. It was merely bad luck that landed them in the hands of the side destined to lose.

"Either we helped the invaders or be killed!" Ting's voice cracked as his eyes watered. "Our clan did what it had to do to survive. Is that so wrong? Why should we be punished?"

Heian slowly turned back to face the endless expanse of forested land before them. "Maybe you have a point," he sighed. His anger had subsided. "But somebody has to take the fall. If I were the emperor, I'd already have all of our heads on a stake. And he will, if we turn back now."

Ting wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Yours. Mine." Heian paused, then gazed up at the great blue sky. "Even my beloved daughter's. At least, as foot soldiers of his army, we have a slim chance of seeing her again."

No words came from the boy. He, too, loved his niece more than anything. They had no choice but to press onward.

After a brief respite, the pair continued walking in silence until the sun had begun to dip behind the trees that now surrounded them.

Despite the fact that their village lay only days behind, to Ting, it felt like years. Soon the two of them would pass the last great mountain that marked the borders of their once sovereign homeland. As the sun melted into the horizon, the two moons appeared in the starry sky.

The second moon — a stellar beauty far smaller than its senior — had appeared a few years prior. Ting remembered spotting its rather unusual ovular shape for the first time. Ever since, it kept him up late at night, beckoning for him to come to it. But others had claimed the same blessing as well. According to a traveler they had met the day before, warlords from all over were engaging in armed combat over its supposed power.

"Shall we settle down here for the night?" he said. Several flocks of birds flew overhead, signaling an end to their arduous trek for the day.

Heian did not answer at first. He instead surveyed the vicinity, paying especially close attention to the towering oaks.

"Are you worried about bandits?"

His brother placed his finger over his mouth and shook his head. "Shh."

Ting nodded. Though he believed themselves to be unworthy of ambush, their belongings turned them into viable targets. Food and clothing were among their least valuable, however.

It was the weapons that Heian had carried single handedly that neighboring nations envied. Their steel weaponry and obsidian arrowheads crafted with the finest materials was once yet another source of leverage.

"Hide!" Heian whispered apprehensively, letting his bow fall from his shoulder into the palm of his hand.

A low hanging branch creaked slightly. Heian's eyes gazed upwards, narrowed. 'Does he plan on engaging in close quarter combat with a bow?' Ting pondered. He had seldom seen the man practice archery.

Heian proceeded to pull a single arrow from the quiver, which lay at his feet. He gripped it with just the tips of his fingers before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Another creak, this time much louder, came from the branches of a tree a few paces ahead. Before Ting could even blink, Heian aimed in the exact opposite direction and, without a second thought, took his shot.