Nightblade (26 page)

Despite the bodies hanging from the trees, Takako seemed unable to grasp the reality of what had occurred. She wandered around the house calling for her family to come out of hiding. Ryuu sat down as a tear crawled down his face. He looked up at Shigeru, composed as ever.

“Who could do this?”

Shigeru couldn’t look at his student, his son. He had guessed there would be consequences, but he could not have predicted their extent.

Ryuu wiped away his tear and stood up. There may not be answers, but there was revenge. With Shigeru’s help he searched the grounds for clues, seeking the identity of those who had committed the crimes. The villagers all avoided them, so no information was coming from that direction. But Ryuu and Shigeru agreed, only Nori would have had the power to order this kind of punishment.

When Takako’s mind caught up to reality she collapsed into the ground, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t even notice as Ryuu came and tried to put his arm around her. She threw him off in anger and disgust.

“This is all your fault! Why couldn’t you just leave me be? If I was still there, my family would still be alive. It was you that killed them! You!”

It felt good, to be honest, to yell at him, to yell at anybody. It was all she had the power to do. It felt good to cut someone with her words.

Shigeru stepped in, the strength of his voice silencing her.

“Takako, do not blame Ryuu for what happened to your family or to those you knew in New Haven. He did not kill them. He tried only to do the right thing. He was not the one who took innocent lives for one guilty life.”

Takako lacked the strength to argue. Shigeru gently took her hand and started to guide her away from the house. Ryuu, perhaps feeling the distance Takako desired right now, went and scouted ahead to make sure their path was safe. Evening would soon be falling and they would want shelter somewhere away from the village.

That night Takako slept restlessly. Her sleep was plagued with nightmares of her family and acquaintances and the imagined tortures they experienced on her account. She tossed and turned, waking in a sweat, struggling to fall back asleep. Finally, she awoke close to dawn and decided that any further sleep was out of the question. Though the evening had passed, it felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

She sat up and saw that Ryuu was still on watch. She was confused because he had been on watch last night when she had fallen asleep. He did not look at her even though she knew he was aware she was awake. It would be impossible to surprise him at all, which meant she couldn’t throw rocks at him like she desired.

Her anger still simmered, but she was grateful for space. For the first time she had an opportunity to think about Ryuu. She knew more about him now than she ever had during their time as correspondents, but it still seemed like so little. Although he had answered her question, she still couldn’t fathom why he had risked everything to come and save her. They had never slept together. They had never done anything besides speak and write to each other. A part of her wondered if Ryuu just wanted her as a prostitute, but there were much easier ways of acquiring one of those.

No, there was something else driving him, but Takako couldn’t understand what it was. But Shigeru had been right, it was unfair to judge Ryuu for the consequences of his actions. She knew it, but she still hated Ryuu. She laid back down and debated what to do next.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Life under Orochi was a refreshing and rewarding change for Moriko. Finding his company preferable to that of the monks made her realize how much she had come to detest life at the monastery. He wasn’t an easy man to get along with. His size and silence made him difficult to learn more about and his very presence unsettled her even if she did learn not to fear him. The way he moved and the way he avoided Moriko’s sense was enough to keep her on high alert even when they were doing something as mundane as sharing a meal.

Once Orochi arrived Moriko was separated from the rest of the monastic community. The only habit that remained was that she still slept in the common quarters. Orochi did not join the monks. He preferred to sleep outside, sitting with his back against the wall. She got the sense that he never slept, not in the manner of normal people.

Even though she slept in the common area, the separation was distinct. The monks no longer spoke to her unless she spoke first. They studied different aspects of the sense. There was no longer a common bond to be shared with those she had spent the past several cycles growing up with. Every day Orochi taught her more about the sense and about fighting than she had ever learned in her time in the monastery. Orochi’s knowledge spoke to her, invited her deeper into its mysteries.

Orochi taught her there was more to the sense than she realized. She knew about the distinction between the dayblades and the nightblades, but she didn’t know that within each were many different styles and philosophies. Her time at Perseverance had only opened her eyes to one path. Moons ago she would have said it was the only path, but now she understood it was one of many gateways to the sense.

Although he never spoke about it, Moriko was able to discern the skills Orochi had developed were unique even among nightblades. He never spoke about where he learned his skills, but he couldn’t have been alone. It meant there were other nightblades. In one conversation she learned Orochi’s talents were considered anathema to the other nightblades, a skill against which there was little defense. Orochi’s skills were the skills of one who hunted their own kind. What made him an outcast among his own opened the doors to acceptance among the descendants of the dayblades who carried on in the monastic tradition.

It didn’t take long for Moriko to understand the depth of the powers she was taught. With skills like Orochi’s she suspected she would never again be under the thumb of another individual. Orochi had no fear of the Abbot. Perhaps someday neither would she.

Orochi’s training style was unlike anything Moriko had ever experienced. He challenged her to best him both in combat and in use of the sense. She was invited to question and to doubt. Orochi taught her both how to hide her presence and about the limitations of the sense. They would observe the training of the other monks and Orochi would speak to both their strengths and their weaknesses although under his analysis they had far more weaknesses than strengths.

A part of her knew the purpose of her training. With her skills she would be able to hunt down any opponent, dayblade or nightblade. Although she rebelled at the idea she still found a certain pleasure in it. She wanted to exert power over others like the Abbot exerted his power. But one question nagged at her. With these skills she could be a threat to the entire monastery. Why would they teach these skills to someone who had already tried to rebel against the system?

She searched her mind and memory for answers, one day giving in to her curiosity and asking Orochi. “Why are you training me? I tried to kill the Abbot and now you’re giving me the skills to do so.”

Orochi grinned, a smile which made her think of a large cat ready to pounce on its victim. “When I leave you are welcome to try to kill the Abbot. I don’t care. You can even try to kill me. All that matters is strength and skill.”

Moriko was shocked. “But don’t you work for the Abbot?”

“I don’t work for anyone. I go where I’m interested, to places where people will provide me with a challenge. Training you makes me stronger in the teaching. There are few opponents left on the mainland worth my time. Working with you passes the time until another is found. But I work for no man.”

Moriko didn’t understand, but it she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him.

Their training continued and the seasons passed. Although Moriko was never comfortable around Orochi she grew to trust and respect him all the same. In all their time together he never talked about his past despite her continual questioning about it. Whatever had happened, whoever he had been, he wasn’t willing to share it. Moriko guessed he had seen between thirty and thirty five cycles, but how those cycles had been spent she couldn’t tell. The only hint she got was that he might have been raised on an island because he always referred to the Three Kingdoms as “the mainland,” a phrase she had never heard before.

At night Moriko would think about the person she had become. Before the monastery she remembered running through the trees, taking delight in the life therein. She loved playing with her father, playing hide and seek in the woods closest to their house. In her dreams she wanted to be a ranger, living in the woods and protecting the animals living there. Now her greatest pleasure was a solid strike against Orochi or imagining what she would do to her fellow monks if she ever got the chance.

Late at night, if the monastery was completely quiet, she could hear and sense the sounds of the forest that grew nearby. It was a new forest, lightly wooded, not dense like the forest she held so dear in her childhood. It would trigger a small spark of longing in her, a desire for what she had lost. But then she would push it away. The love of the forest was a childish dream. A dangerous dream for her to hold to now.

As winter turned into spring Orochi focused their training more and more on combat. It felt at times like he was using her to train himself. She did not know his reasons, but she loved the exertion and the effort. She was nowhere near as good as he was, but she was getting better every day.

The pattern of Moriko’s life changed late that summer. A messenger arrived in full armor heralding the arrival of someone important. Moriko paid it no mind, assuming it would have nothing to do with her. There was always someone trying to visit the monastery to curry favor with the Abbot. It was pathetic.

But Orochi stopped their practice.

“Do you know whose banner that is?”

Moriko looked. It was a dark red banner with crossed swords clasped in the claws of an eagle. When she saw it she had the impression of a hunter. But she didn’t recognize the banner itself. She had never seen it in all the cycles she had been living at Perseverance.

“No, I don’t.”

“You should. That is the banner of Lord Akira, Lord of the Southern Kingdom.”

“He’s coming?”

“It would seem that way. I wondered how much privacy he was going to give me.”

Moriko shot him a glance. She disbelieved him, but he spoke with no sarcasm or pride. He spoke of facts she knew nothing of and she doubted.

“A Lord would come here to visit you?”

Orochi flashed his menacing grin. “More likely than the Lord coming to visit the Abbot of this dump.”

The herald announced the Lord would arrive in two days. The rest of the monastery buzzed with excitement and preparation. The arrival of the Lord was a rare occasion. Orochi shrugged and continued training Moriko. It was entertaining to watch the monks tripping over each other, but Moriko shared their nervousness. Each Kingdom had a Lord, holding the seat of the throne until the Kingdom could be united once again. They held power beyond comprehension.

The Lord’s arrival was detected long before he was within view. The Abbot had pushed his sense to the limit to give them all the most advance warning. When the word came down from the Abbot’s quarters Moriko and Orochi were sparring. Orochi dismissed her. “Make yourself presentable.”

Moriko tidied up, tying her hair back and putting on fresh robes not soiled from her day of training. Orochi didn’t bother, but Moriko wasn’t strong enough to make him break a good sweat yet either.

The Lord arrived with more people than Moriko had ever seen traveling together. The monastery wasn’t even close to being large enough to house all of them so they formed a temporary encampment around the front gate. Moriko could smell the soldiers even though they were behind the wall. It was a combination of crap, dirt, sweat and blood. The stench sickened her. She had imagined a Lord traveling with a retinue of sycophants. Akira traveled with warriors from the battlefield.

When the Lord came into the monastery it was Goro who escorted him to the Abbot’s quarters. Moriko couldn’t help but notice the dissimilarities between the two. Goro, his back hunched over, unwilling to raise himself to his full height to stand above Akira. Akira walked tall, sure of himself and his purpose in the world. He was clothed well. Moriko noticed the fine material, but also noticed his outfit didn’t restrict him in any way. This was indeed a warrior. The Lord did not travel in full armor, but Moriko could tell from how he moved that there were several pieces of armor either hidden under or sewn into his wardrobe.

Moriko’s most significant surprise was the age of the Lord. She had imagined a wizened old man. But he was young. He had seen no more than thirty cycles. She had a hard time believing a man so young could wield such power over thousands of people.

Overall, Moriko’s first impressions of the Lord were favorable. This was not a man who stood on ceremony or whose power had corrupted his personal discipline. This was a man who still lived by a strict code. Though she knew nothing else about him, it was enough for her to view him more favorably than not.

Akira, several of his guards and Goro entered the Abbot’s quarters with little ceremony. Most of the monks milled around, having expected to do more bowing or more demonstrations of their skill. The Abbot hadn’t shared Orochi’s premonition surrounding the Lord’s visit. The clueless monks were awkward enough it made Moriko smile.

After a short conference inside Goro came scurrying out of the Abbot’s quarters. To Moriko’s great delight, he came to where Orochi and she were standing against the wall, groveling and bowing in a priceless manner. Moriko was starting to wish the Lord would visit more often. It was the most unique experience she’d had in some time.

“Lord Akira demands your presence in the Abbot’s quarters, Orochi.”