Nightblade (16 page)

A sharp jab in her back brought her mind back to her current situation. Each monk had a firm grip on one of her wrists. They were almost picking her up, moving quickly, not letting her get any firm contact with the ground. There was nothing she could do. She began to think her situation wasn’t as positive as she thought it had been. Her hope began vanished like a ghost with the coming of the morning light. She glanced around, searching for exit, escape, or relief, but none was to be found. The Abbot’s building loomed larger and larger and Moriko could sense he already knew what had happened.

When they got her in front of the Abbot the two monks forced her to the ground, her forehead slamming against the hard stone, each of her arms in a severe joint lock that made her want to scream in pain with every slight movement. She couldn’t see the Abbot, but she sure could feel him. But she doubted her sense for the first time since learning about it. The Abbot didn’t seem angry so much as curious. She could feel him extend his power toward her, focusing it on her. It felt like her skin was being torn off, burned by the power of an exploding sun, exposing everything underneath. The monks holding her relaxed their grip as they were overpowered by the Abbot’s focus on her. Moriko tried to move, but her body wasn’t responding to her commands.

Moriko went inside herself, focusing on her own body and doing everything in her power to ignore the incredible energies being brought to bear upon her. She could hear her captors wheezing in pain from just being too close to the object of the Abbot’s undivided attention. Whatever she did had some effect, because the Abbot relaxed his focus, unable to find whatever he had been looking for. Moriko moved to escape, but the monks had recovered faster and had renewed their joint locks on her arms. There wasn’t any hope.

Goro spoke without permission, “Abbot, this girl just attacked . . .”

He was cut off by an abrupt motion by the Abbot. “Shut up, Goro. I know what happened.”

Goro obliged, quivering in his own fear. He was a pathetic piece of trash.

The Abbot spoke again, “How did you do this?”

Moriko couldn’t resist being rude. It was her last layer of defense. “I only did what I’ve been taught in my classes.”

The Abbot smiled. “Unless my monks have made incredible progress without my knowledge, I think we both know that’s not true. Give me the truth, child.”

Moriko remained silent. She didn’t know how she had pulled off what she had done. It had come naturally to her. She wasn’t even sure how it was special.

The Abbot stared at her for several breaths before coming to a decision. “Goro, grab two staffs please.”

Goro, although confused, acquired them from a weapons rack near the side of the Abbot’s quarters. He brought them to the Abbot, who tossed one in front of Moriko. “Get up, girl.”

Moriko obeyed, rubbing her shoulders to return some feeling back to them after the monks let her go. She looked around for an exit, but they were well guarded.

The Abbot tossed the second staff to Goro. “Attack the girl.” The Abbot returned to his chair to watch the proceedings.

Moriko was slow to respond, still afraid of the Abbot’s wrath. She suspected she didn’t know everything that the Abbot was capable of. Goro had no such problems, the lap-dog always ready to do whatever his master commanded. He leapt forward and landed a crushing blow on Moriko’s shoulder, bringing her down to one knee.

The blow shocked her to her senses and her training took over. Goro never paused his attack, but she automatically deflected his next swing, which was slow and powerful. She flinched as their staffs cracked even on the deflection. Goro wasn’t trying to do anything complicated. He was too angry and embarrassed to do anything unexpected. He would attack straight on until she was down.

Goro paused his series of attacks to glance at the Abbot. Moriko glanced as well. The Abbot didn’t care about Goro. All of his attention was on Moriko.

Goro took this as permission to give Moriko his full attention. He stepped back and spun his staff around in a complicated pattern. Moriko was reminded of the fact that he was older and much better trained than she was. She knew better than to fight the monks. They were so fast and so strong. It was nothing but pride which told her she had a chance.

Goro moved forward, his first steps so fast Moriko almost didn’t realize what was happening. His staff blurred in her vision.

Without warning the feeling of moving in slow motion returned and Moriko clearly saw the pattern Goro was tracing with his staff. She knew he was going to try to use a big swing to knock her off balance and then come in with another big swing to knock her out or kill her. She didn’t give him the chance. His moves were quick, but she knew his move, and knew the precise spot she needed to strike. She didn’t hesitate, a quick jab with the end of her staff inside his guard.

Goro didn’t react to her movement, not even making the slightest attempt to block. She struck him in his stomach and he collapsed into himself.

Faster than it began, it was over. The monks appeared to be in a state of shock, but the Abbot’s gaze had never faltered. He was still acting like a curious child. The Abbot stood up, went over to Goro, and picked up the fallen staff. He spoke to Moriko as he approached. His voice was so soft Moriko wondered if anyone else could hear what he said.

“Goro was a fool. Fool someone once, shame on you. Fool someone twice, shame on them. He should have known what we were dealing with.”

Moriko didn’t understand. What were they dealing with? What seemed so serious?

The Abbot turned on Moriko with the staff and he was even faster than Goro. Moriko had been paying attention though and was able to move just fast enough to block most of his strikes. She chose, taking the hits that seemed like they wouldn’t be too bad while blocking and deflecting those that would have been more damaging. She felt him focus his energy and felt it wash over her as she moved through it. She began to hope that she had a chance of escape. Perhaps she was the strongest!

Her hope was fleeting. Not even sure how, she found herself the focus of all the Abbot’s energy and attention, and it forced her backwards one step at a time. It was like standing too close to a fire, a fire that was focused only on burning her. Her sense was blinded, and she began to take too many strikes. Every hit knocked her a bit more off balance, and before long it was over, a jab to the stomach similar to the one that had taken Goro out of commission.

The world wavered in front of Moriko. She was hurt and exhausted, her mind and body spent. The Abbot looked at her one last time, shook his head, and brought his staff around, striking her across the head and causing her world to go completely black.

Moriko was surprised when she awoke. She had half-expected in the last moment of consciousness to never wake up again. On her next breath, she started to wish she hadn’t woken up again.

Her head felt like it had been cracked open and her mind was leaking out. She tried to bring her hands to her head to feel the damage, only to realize she was tightly bound to the monastery wall. Her arms were stretched out to each side and tied to anchors in the wall. Moriko had always wondered why those anchors had been there. She tried to move her arms, but there was no give at all. She was bound facing the wall, so her backside was facing the courtyard. Fear entered her heart, pushing away the blackness at the edges of her pain-filled vision.

Moriko turned her head to look around and immediately a wave of pain and nausea washed over her. Her legs gave out, but she only fell the tiniest distance. Her arms stretched out searing in pain, unwilling to take the strain of all her weight. She put her feet down and tried to stand. It was a small improvement.

As her mind caught up with her surroundings, Moriko felt the fear gnawing its way through her stomach. She had beaten Goro, not once, but twice. The Abbot had defeated her without a problem. What was the punishment for fighting with the Abbot? Why did everyone seem to be scared of what she had done? She thought backwards. The pieces started to connect. She had used the sense in combat.

Nightblade
.

The words cut through the fog in her mind. It wasn’t supposed to be possible. The monks were trained to use the sense, but not with combat. It didn’t work. The sense was used for information gathering and activities that were slow and methodical. The ability to fight while using the sense was punishable by death. There weren’t any nightblades any more, and for good reason. They had destroyed the Kingdom. She deserved to die.

A monk training nearby noticed she was awake and ran to ring a gong outside of the Abbot’s quarters. It was only struck on important occasions, usually holidays or funerals. Moriko wondered if it was ringing for her own funeral. There was a bustle of activity, and soon Moriko sensed almost every monk in the complex was standing to attention behind her. She felt like she should be self-conscious with everyone standing behind her. But she could only focus on the pain and the fear.

She sensed the Abbot behind her. She took a deep breath and tried not to be scared. It was easier than she expected. At the end of all things she found she just didn’t care. Not happy or sad, she missed her old woods, the feel of the trees and the tranquility of solitude. She was thinking about the giant trees when the Abbot approached and ripped the robes off the top of her body.

Moriko instinctively tried to cover herself with her arms, forgetting for a moment she was immobile. But once the shock passed away she didn’t care about her nudity either. She was facing the wall anyway. There wasn’t much for anyone to see. She sensed the whip coming at her bare back, but didn’t have enough time to tense.

The pain was surprising even though she knew it was coming. The whip felt like a small line of fire burning its way across her skin. The fire did not ease with time, but intensified as it was joined by more lashings. Soon it felt like her entire back was burning, red hot lines of flame everywhere. Every breath, movement and thought seemed to drag out as the pain ravaged her mind and body. She had never experienced anything of the sort. She came to the point where she almost welcomed the lashes as they gave her a single point of pain to focus on.

She had planned on being defiant but the pain was too much. She collapsed, screaming and crying as the Abbot went to work with the whip. She hoped it would bring some relief, but every breath she took to cry burned across her body. She wanted to die, wanted the pain to end. Why wouldn’t he just kill her?

A small part of her, the part attuned to combat, realized the Abbot was an expert in applying the whip. No strike landed in the same place. Sometimes he allowed the whip to curl around her torso, arms, or legs. The worst was when it lashed around and cut into the side of her breasts. That was a new and horrible sort of pain.

Moriko tried to focus, tried to find an inner sanctuary, someplace where she could shut out the pain. In between strikes she remembered the stories she had heard about monks who could withstand incredible pain without losing face. But the Abbot was a master at what he was doing and Moriko had no experience to draw on. He never gave her enough time between strikes to focus. They came one after the other and blurred together into one continuous experience of hell.

Time became endless, and she struggled to remember a time when her life wasn’t filled with pain and suffering. She had become so senseless she didn’t even realize her punishment had ended. There were no more lashes, just the unending torment of breath. A moment later her hearing returned to her, and she realized that the Abbot was speaking to the congregated monks.

“. . . violation of the rules of our order. Today I bring my sword, the ultimate symbol of the warriors which we are descended from. We are men and women with a sacred task, a task to protect the world we live in from all threats. If we are not united, the world itself falls. If we do not recognize the corruption, even within our own ranks, the Three Kingdoms would burn.”

The Abbot paused for effect. “We recognize in the sword the ultimate paradox. It is the protector of life, yet it brings death. Like the great warriors of old, we live in that paradox daily, struggling always to understand it. Today the sword decides the fate of the one who violated our precepts.”

Moriko’s sense returned to her just in time for her to sense the blade’s approach. Time slowed down, just as it had before, but there was nothing for her to do. No way to react. She was tied tightly and had no desire to live. She sensed it approach, unfeeling and uncaring. When it entered her, she couldn’t even distinguish it from the other levels of agony she was already suffering. But when she looked down and saw the point of the blade protruding from her torso, her blood sparkling in the evening sunlight, she couldn’t take anymore. For the second and final time that day, Moriko’s vision went black, and she went willingly into darkness’ cold, comforting embrace.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ryuu was no longer a boy. Several cycles had passed, and it was clear to any observer he was now a young man. He was of average height, but his musculature set him apart from others. The young man was lean, the muscles of his arms, torso and legs clearly defined, with no vestiges of childhood fat left. He walked tall and without hurry, taking in the world around him. Shigeru could always sense the faint tendrils of Ryuu’s sense expanding throughout whatever environment he was in, and it made him proud. Ryuu’s sense would be almost undetectable to the monks.

Just as important to Shigeru were Ryuu’s eyes. They never rested but were always moving back and forth, using every sense available to bring in information about his world. Many trainees, when they were young, relied on their sense too much. Shigeru knew there were ways to fool the sense, but not all six. Shigeru often told Ryuu no one could sneak up on him and it was probably true. Ryuu paid attention to people when they spoke, focusing exclusively on them. When he did his eyes would light up with the delight of conversation. It was obvious to all who encountered him he was focused on the present, always curious about everything around him. But what only Shigeru could sense was that even though Ryuu’s eyes might be focused on one person, his sense tendrils spread out even further. The boy was a marvel of awareness.