Sunstone - Dishonor's Bane (Book 2) (10 page)

Chapter Twelve

~

S
hiro volunteered for Boreko’s burial party.
Two guards and he rowed out two or three hundred paces from the shore. His mentor, sewn into two rice sacks with a large rock inside, made a huge splash as Shiro dumped him over the side. He leaned over as the sack disappeared from sight, down into the ocean. He looked at the island as the boat bobbed up and down in the swells. Boreko had deserted him and now he nearly wished that he jumped over the side and joined his friend at the bottom of the sea. He wiped his eyes and wondered what he would do now. The guards made him row back, but that did little to distract him from the painful grief that he felt.

Mira stood at the dock in her old woman’s guise. Shiro expected her to say a kind word or two, but she kept her thoughts to herself as they walked back to the fields.

“My father says your friend probably broke a blood vessel in his lung or in his brain and died of a stroke. He could not help him here. Perhaps a sorcerer healer…  The herbs were meant to usher him into spirit world.”

Shiro stopped her on the path and took her arm. “I helped kill my friend?” He put his hands to his head. “I wouldn’t have given him that. I wouldn’t.”

“Boreko would have had worse headaches until he passed away. Trust my father. He knows. You did your friend a great favor.” Her voice held no compassion, no sympathy. She had no more soul than the sorcerers in the Guild.

“Move on, slackers,” a guard said as they passed by.

“You and your father have much to answer for!” Shiro began to stalk off, his grief replaced with anger at the devious pair.

“Wait!” Mira ran to Shiro. “We need each other.” Her voice was low and clear. She grabbed his arm. “We have an alliance, my father, you and I. Ashiyo put the four of us here. What does the Guild care if Boreko dies? If you die? Vengeance. Let it be your guide.”

Shiro turned around and looked into the old woman’s rheumy eyes, knowing what they really looked like. “It won’t be my guide. It’s not vengeance that I seek.”

“What do you seek, farmer?”

“I’ll tell you when I’ve figured it out for myself.” Shiro pushed her out of his way and hurried off to the fields. One of the last things Boreko told him flashed in his mind, seek out a partner. He looked at Mira. Right now he didn’t feel much like partnering with the two snakes, but he realized that he needed her shield spell after he escaped from the island to keep the Guild from locating him.

He began to weed. Mira showed up and began to work in close proximity. Shiro didn’t say another word to her for a week. He gave himself up to grief. Every stroke of his hoe brought another image to his mind. The face of his boy, his girl, his wife and Boreko joined them in his rotation. Night brought no relief, as he lay, sleepless on his lumpy cot reviewing his miserable life. Despair filled his existence and then he woke one morning remembering the previous night’s dream.

Boreko stood next to his wife in a high-ceilinged room at the top of a mountain. Snow-covered crags served as a background out the window. He could see their breaths as they spoke. His wife had never looked so beautiful and Boreko actually looked happy and hearty.

It seemed that they had spoken for a long while, but Shiro couldn’t remember their words.

“Shiro, trust yourself and your power,” his wife said. “You are meant for great things, but the road will not be easy or smooth. Know that I love you and forgive you. Unknowingly did you let our souls fail. It is the way of life. Your children grow up in another place, another sphere. Do not despair for them. I have found another here. Do not feel ill towards me, for I have a great capacity for love and, even now, I still care for you.”

Boreko grasped his wife’s hand and spoke, “I erred in the last minutes of my life. I spoke in anger and in pain and gave you advice that will lead you into dark paths if you follow my words, my son.”

Shiro’s wife’s eyes smiled at Boreko’s heartfelt admission. She looked so beautiful. Unattainable, Shiro thought as he stood in front of them.

“Seek out a partner, yes. But you are not destined to lead the Guild but might have a greater calling. Grasp it when the time is right. Make the decisions that will benefit others and you will find your way through it all. I only ask that you remember me as a friend.”

Shiro could barely breathe. His mentor had touched his emotions more thoroughly than his wife. Perhaps he had truly lost her, but the sense of loss that he had carried with him from Koriaki seemed to fade into a pleasant memory of living rather than the torment of stealing her life.

Those were his last thoughts before he woke. He clearly remembered every word, every gesture, every detail of the room, the muted colors of their silk robes, and even the ornaments in his wife’s hair. He knelt and, bowing, gave thanks to his god for the sending and walked calmly to the fields.

The torrent of images that had assaulted him was filled with thoughts of peace. He went through the dream over and over so it wouldn’t fade like the mist on a hot summer’s morning. He didn’t know if it was a real vision or not, but, nevertheless, calmness washed over his body and he felt joy as his hands and body responded to the hard work in the fields.

“You look different this morning,” Mira said, walking up to him during a water break.

He looked at Mira and thought that he could rejoin the living. Perhaps her father…

Shiro sought out Abe for the first time since Boreko died.

“I forgive you for tricking me into killing my friend.”

Abe shrunk back. Shiro enjoyed seeing the fear in the healer’s eyes and felt that punishment enough.

“I’d like you to teach me how to heal. I’m stuck on this island and I want to use what little power I have for more than picking peas or standing ankle deep in a rice paddy.”

“Why?” Abe’s expression spoke of anger and sadness, but the feelings seemed to be directed within. Shiro had never noticed that a deep unhappiness rode like an imp on Abe’s back.

Shiro shrugged. “If I knew how to heal, perhaps I could have used my power to heal my friend. I know you don’t heal with magic, but perhaps I can learn to enhance what you do. You have trouble moving patients around and I can help you do that.”

Abe squinted at Shiro. “My daughter refuses to learn. She says healing is beneath her.”

That fit the woman’s character well enough. Shiro wouldn’t let Mira bother him. “It isn’t for me. I used to till the earth and have done enough of it, although I’m sure I’ll have to continue to work as you train me.”

“I’ll talk to Riku and let you know. In the meantime, here is my herb book. Go back to the woods and find more herbs.”

Shiro searched more diligently than his first foray into the forests. He saw rabbits flitting through the underbrush and spotted deer tracks. Perhaps Riku would let him do a bit of hunting like he did back in Koriaki. He walked through a streambed that had worn a three-foot deep path through the forest floor and tripped on a stiff root. He found that it was actually the end of the hilt of an ancient sword sticking up among the rocks of the streambed.

He struggled, but eventually pulled the weapon out of the ground. He’d never seen a sword of such design. Rather than the curved one-sided blade of a Ropponi sword, this straighter one might have edges on both sides. The dirt was so thick, he didn’t know for sure. It felt a little heavier, but the blade was thickly caked with dirt. He tried out a few practice forms and found that not all his moves could be smoothly executed with the different size and shape, not to mention using the shorter one-and-a half-handed grip. Whatever had been used to cover the tang of the blade soon disintegrated in his hand.

Shiro looked around to see if anyone saw the blade. He wondered if it would take an edge. Hiding it in a hollow log, he made sure he could return to the spot and continued to search for herbs. He found a meadow that had more herbs growing around the edges along with edible mushrooms and harvested enough to justify his trip into the forest.

Riku talked to Abe when Shiro returned with his basket of herbs to the infirmary.

“I found a clearing that had more herbs,” Shiro said, showing Abe his harvest.

The warden peered over Abe’s shoulder at the herbs. “These are the right plants?”

Abe nodded. “I can’t go very far in the forest. Shiro can also help me in the infirmary like I said.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows and looked expectantly at Riku. “I spotted game. I used to hunt in my village.”

“No edged weapons are allowed in your hands.”

“Snares?” Shiro didn’t need a bow and arrow. “The kitchen staff can do the skinning. I can also harvest culinary herbs and mushrooms.” He showed them to Riku.

Perhaps the thought of some meat decided Shiro’s fate. “I suppose we can try you out, sorcerer.”

“Apprentice. I was only an apprentice,” Shiro said, bowing to the warden.

“Four weeks, and then we’ll review his progress, Abe.” Riku walked away while Abe and Shiro went inside the infirmary.

So began Shiro’s healing instruction. Abe taught him about the inside of the human body. Shiro’s farming experience included raising animals for slaughter, so he picked up the lessons in anatomy quickly enough. Mira had no interest in healing and couldn’t help Shiro puzzle out how to use his Affinity in helping heal.

Abe had worked with a few sorcerer-healers in his time and described what the results of their effort yielded. Soon Shiro could duplicate the more simple healing effects. Closing a wound, joining bones and visible vessels were within his capability.

A worker came in with a fever. “I know what temperature a man must have to fight whatever disease is inside. I give herbs to moderate the fever. I’ve seen sorcerers regulate the man’s temperature,” Abe said.

“Temperature is regulated by what organ?” Shiro said.

“The heart of course. What do you think the blood comes from?”

Shiro tried to control the man’s temperature with his heart, but the fever never spiked and continued to rise until the man died.

“I failed,” Shiro said. The death devastated him. How could he have failed? He knew that the man’s heart had cooled when he applied magic to it. He had felt it by touching the man’s chest.

Abe just shook his head. “Perhaps it’s not the heart. Perhaps it’s the man’s brain or his balls.” He shrugged and turned to help a new patient into the infirmary. Abe’s casual reaction only made Shiro feel worse.

Shiro couldn’t bear to return to the infirmary for a few days. He had to put some distance from his fatal disaster. Perhaps his teacher didn’t know enough to teach him, after all. From that point on he focused on becoming more adept at enhancing the healing that Abe knew. He would stay away from using any internal magic. It wouldn’t be hard, since it took so long to recover his magical reserves on the island.

~~~

Chapter Thirteen

~

W
eeks later, Shiro sought herbs in the forest
, checking traps and exercising in the solitude. He came across the place where the sword had been hidden. He hadn’t been here for some time and pulled out the sword. He took the weapon to a nearby stream and used a stick to clean off the blade.

As he took off the thick dirt, he found the blade hadn’t rusted at all. The tang and hilt were black, but the blade turned bright with his cleaning the metal with the sandy silt of the stream. The steel seemed almost white. As he cleaned off the blade a yellow stone about the size of this thumb was revealed. Embedded in the blade, the oval stone seemed clear as a diamond or a piece of glass. It must be glass. He touched the stone and his mind exploded.

Visions of archaic Ropponis ran through his head and then the face of a man with olive skin and light gray eyes seemed to look at him and opened his mouth to speak as the image faded away. He drew his hand away and realized that his full power had returned. That was no piece of glass. It was a gem that held information and power. He took the sword by the fragments of the hilt and held it up in front of him. A treasure. The edges had dulled during its time planted in the ground, but normal steel might have rusted to a sliver of rough, red metal. He returned the sword to its hiding place. If he ever left the island, the sword would be at his side. Shiro thought he knew what he had found.

His snares had captured three rabbits and, along with a basketful of herbs, he returned to the infirmary by way of the kitchen shack.

Shiro wanted to learn about the sword, but there wouldn’t be a library on the island. He wondered if there were books available. He confronted Abe. “Do you have any books on healing?”

The healer reddened. “Why would I?”

“You’ve got the herb book. Perhaps you have more.”

“What if I did?” Why would Abe look so nervous?

“I could read them.”

“Farmers can read?”

Shiro looked into Abe’s eyes and knew the truth. “But you can’t, can you?”

“My daughter…”

Enlightenment came to Shiro as he found the truth. “She thinks healing is beneath her so she won’t read the book to you.”

Abe lowered his head. Shiro knew the answer.

“Let’s see if we can learn more together. Where are the books?”

“Riku has them in the storehouse.”

Shiro took Abe with him to the warden, who showed them to the warehouse and unlocked a door.

“These are the only books and scrolls on the island.” The room was filled with scrolls including a few shelves of books. “The last warden was a learned man. He died here, like your friend,” Riku looked at Shiro, “and no one claimed the library. I have no interest in these things. If you can use them, go ahead. But don’t spend all your time in here.” Riku left them alone.

Abe bowed to the warden as he took possession of the key to the door. He put it in Shiro’s hand. “I have no interest in the things, either.” He smiled. “I’m too old to learn how to read, but I am interested in any new healing techniques you can find. I suppose you can spend early mornings and evenings in here. I can supply a candle.”

“Thank you.” Shiro’s world had just expanded. All of this knowledge!  Abe left him alone in the library. Shiro wouldn’t need a candle, but he wouldn’t let Abe know that he could generate his own light.

His first task was to catalogue the writing. He began to stack the scrolls on the floor into related piles. Most of the scrolls consisted of scroll sticks that were printed by carven blocks. He had read a few in the Guild. Most of the works consisted of Ropponi war histories. Not surprisingly, the old warden must have served in the Ropponi army.

One thick handwritten scroll spoke of the origins of Roppon. He sat cross-legged on the floor and began to read. Night fell and Shiro created a tiny light and continued to read. The account revealed more detail that anything he had read at the Guild. Shiro wondered if the importance of the Sunstone and its companions had been minimized by subsequent Emperors. He recalled the lecture of the speaking stones.  Roniki dismissed the importance of the stones and thought their magic was a legend, but this account seemed real. It described the stones in detail. The Sunstone that had been given to the ruler of Roppon had been yellow, as large as a quail egg and clear as a diamond. The wizard ruler of all Goriati had presented the Sunstone embedded in an enchanted sword.

Shiro’s heart began to beat harder as he read on. The story of the destruction of the Purestone matched Roniki’s description. A later ruler of Roppon, in a fit of anger ordered a captain to destroy the sword. That’s when the Sunstone disappeared forever, the account said. The sword would never be seen again.

Could the sword in the forest be the same weapon? The little stream had cut through centuries of soil so that Shiro could trip over the hilt. Amazing. No wonder the stone provided him with visions. The stone still carried power within, even though the Purestone no longer existed. A treasure, but how would he get it off the island?

Shiro looked out over the piles of unsorted scrolls. Perhaps a treatise on Affinity might be on the shelves. A yawn shut off Shiro’s musings and he reluctantly locked the door, leaving the mess behind and drug himself to the barracks to lie on his sleeping mat. Excitement ran through his head until sleep overtook his thoughts.

While Shiro worked in the fields the next morning, he couldn’t get the sword and the Sunstone out of his mind. The gem had to be worth a prefecture, but it meant nothing to Shiro while he still labored on the island. Perhaps the power in the stone would help him find the destiny Boreko and Shiro’s late wife inferred in the dream that still remained clearly in his mind.

“Find anything?” Riku said as he made his daily rounds on the farms.

Shiro gave the warden a bow. “Not yet. Most of what I’ve seen has been war histories. But there is more to see. I started by sorting the scrolls.”

Riku nodded, deep in thought. “Take off a few hours early and do some more sorting. Perhaps you might find a naughty story that might interest me.” He gave Shiro a wink and a grin.

Shiro bowed again. “Thank you, warden. I will.

He grew impatient as he worked in the fields until the mid-afternoon break. Shiro hurried to the storehouse and to the scrolls. He found another history that mentioned the speaking stones and soon had sorted all of the scrolls.

One scroll contained general information on healing, but nothing that Abe didn’t already know. After all of the scrolls were sorted, histories and battle stories still made up the bulk of the scrolls. A few books on construction, animal husbandry and farming techniques were discovered.

Shiro looked at the two shelves of old books. Perhaps he’d find what he sought there. In the twilight, he found a decent healing book that described some of the mechanisms of the body that would merit more study. Riku would enjoy the four romantic novels that he discovered. Two were even illustrated.

The warden didn’t have much of a philosophical bent or even much interest in politics, so other than the few novels, the library held little else of interest to Riku. Shiro surveyed his two days worth of work. Everything sorted. A box on a shelf held some dried up ink, a brush that needed trimming and some blank scroll sticks, so Shiro spent some time restoring the writing materials and labeled the sections of the library. Riku would get some value out of Shiro’s work.

He didn’t know what to expect, but other than the book of healing, and the two speaking stone references, the treasure trove of information didn’t yield much treasure. He locked up, taking the healing book and began to leave the storehouse. He glanced at the shelves and found a shelf of sharpening supplies and rolls of leather strips and sharkskin for weapons repair for the guards.

Shiro had no desire to steal anything from the warden, but his thoughts went to the sword. He took just enough materials to sharpen the blade and restore the hilt and left the empty building.

The next day, he asked Abe if he needed more herbs and got permission from Riku to check his snares. Shiro ran into the woods and retrieved the sword. He spent an hour cleaning the blade again, avoiding the yellow stone. He carefully wrapped the hilt with leather strapping and finished the grip with sharkskin. The Sunstone dominated the sword. With the rest of the materials, he covered the stone up with a hilt wrapping, even though it shortened the usable length of the sword.

He touched the stone and felt nothing through the leather strips. He took the sword in his hand and began to modify his practice forms to work with the double-edged blade and the hilt-extension that hid the stone. He would begin to sharpen the exposed blade on his next trip and would use some magic to speed up the process.

He found a few rabbits and made sure all of his snares were reset before gathering enough herbs to satisfy Riku and Abe.

~

“Fevers are caused by dark humors in the blood. The book says that there is an organ in the brain that controls body temperature. You don’t cool the heart, but calm the brain with a message to reduce the temperature. It doesn’t always work since there are a number of causes of fever. The book says different kinds of dark humors. Some can be affected and others can’t,” Shiro said, paraphrasing a section in the book.

“So you were wrong,” Abe said as he stitched up a worker’s injury.

Shiro frowned. “It cost the worker’s life, but even here it says magic doesn’t always work.” He still felt responsible for the man’s death.

Abe waved away Shiro’s comments and walked to his preparations room.

The responsibility of healing continually weighed down on him like a heavy blanket. He brought up his hands and examined them. He had never perceived healing as an art, a dangerous art. The power to inadvertently destroy or—he looked towards the room that held Abe — the power to purposely destroy as the healer did Boreko.

Shiro could see that the occasional moral dilemma facing healers could be difficult for a compassionate person. He didn’t trust Abe’s compassion very far and perhaps Mira’s reluctance to become a healer might be due to insight as well as arrogance. Healing through Affinity brought a moral burden. The thought humbled Shiro and brought tears to his eyes. Was he truly worthy? Most sorcerers he had known weren’t and the Ropponi culture promoted that. Healers. He nodded his head in agreement with his own thoughts. Healers acted the opposite way. The woman healer in his village acted as if healing was a solemn responsibility. He knew that the healer at the Guild had cast aside the moral aspect of his craft and Shiro thought him less for that. Abe certainly had demons of his own making that had made him an unhappy man.

Shiro would never escape the island worrying about such things. He shivered and reviewed his progress. He had learned a few healing tricks and now understood more about how to reconstruct a broken joint.

There were ligaments and muscles that needed to be bound properly and alignment was critical to the continued use of the limb. Abe handled all of those cases and evidence of his expertise limped around the farm. Shiro could close up wounds, ease joint pain and remove painful callouses and skin growths with tiny bits of his powers.

For every procedure, Shiro held Abe’s tools and put his charges to sleep with Abe’s powders so no one knew of his practice using his Affinity. Still, his mistake with the fever made him vow that after he left the island; he hoped that he could leave healing to others.

He returned to the library to go through the books he had sorted. One book that he had mistakenly took for a volume on war history was a manual, of sorts, for battle sorcerers. Most of them lived short lives, as charmed arrows would pierce whatever physical shielding a sorcerer could devise. That might be the reason the Guild no longer seemed to promote the specialty. However, the book did talk about the creation of localized wind and storms. If the day was cloudy or misty, sorcerers could create lightning on the battlefield. If your opponent’s horses outnumbered yours, rain would make the field sloppy and decrease the advantage of cavalry.

Shiro had to smile. He knew how to do that. Mistokko taught him how to shape the wind. Then his eyebrows rose as he thought about the boat that was used to bury Boreko’s body. What if the boat had a sail? Then a sorcerer could create the wind to sail to the Southern Isle and freedom. He closed the book and began to formulate a plan for escape. He’d need his sword and the shield spell that Mira knew so he could escape detection on South Isle. Mira still refused to teach him the spell. But what if he offered Mira and Abe freedom?

~~~