Maybe my time at the infirmary really did change what I’m able to do, Arik had thought several times over the hours that followed his battle with Tatum.
As he lay in the room at the inn that night, watching the candlelight dance against the ceiling, he recalled some of the things that Hojo had shown him back in Avarga, ways to use his haori cape to disguise himself, the usage of makeup, and a mantra that came to him in that moment as he listened to the wind outside rattle the exterior window shutters.
The wind has no shape, and neither should you, he remembered Hojo telling him.
With Meosa surprisingly quiet, Arik kept himself awake for just a little longer by flipping through the book that Master Altai had given him.
Coro Pache: Legends of the War Priest.
He arrived on a page which had been stripped from the text, one about a blade known as the Whispering Sword. This was another reason he wanted to visit the bookseller in Avarga; not only would they possibly know about the Mask of the Fallen, but maybe they would have a complete edition of the old book, so Arik could read the Whispering Sword legend, and any of the other pages that had been torn in half.
One legend at a time, he thought, a rare smile forming on his face.
Arik ended up reading a story about Coro Pache and how he had slain a group of bandits that had been kidnapping women and children from an eastern Jadean village. In his actions, Arik saw both similarities and differences between the former War Priest and himself. He knew that Coro Pache must have had a heightened level of combat compared to the disciple, and Arik also knew that he would have been able to heal and do more with Revivaura than Coro Pache, but they surely had differences in their behavior as well.
If Meosa truly had known the War Priest personally, as he sometimes let on, he had yet to tell Arik much about it, nor had he explained why he had been trapped in the cave in the first place, or who he had been looking for in Omoto.
One day soon, Arik would press him on it.
The words started to swim together at the start of the next passage, Arik’s mind hovering for just a moment over a series of fleeting images, from his first escape to the kitsune-masked woman, clearly some sort of shinobi, everything that happened afterward spooling toward him rapidly.
Eventually, he found himself falling further and further away from the Academy, the disciple well aware that his family was dead, that Master Guri Yarna had saved him by shoving Arik out the window.
He awoke with a gasp, the morning sun coming through an open window, the room cool to the point of being frigid. Once Arik sat up, he examined his arm, no sign at all of the severing that had taken place. Without his unique command over chi, he would have struggled for the rest of his life, yet here he was the next day, not a scratch on him.
“Disturbing dreams, I take it,” Meosa said, his presence all around Arik, form intangible at the moment.
Arik glanced to the bed on the other side of the room to find Hojo seated with his legs crossed beneath him, a calm look on his face, his gray hair swept back. “Are you familiar with caltrops?” the master illusionist asked.
The disciple shook his head, and as he did Hojo produced a set of small, sharp objects arranged in a tetrahedron pattern that always allowed for them to have a stable base with metal spikes pointing upward. He cast them onto the ground, Arik noticing that there was a thick string attached to each of them.
Hojo flicked his wrist and the caltrops moved along the wooden floorboard.
“There may come a point soon, when we move on to our lessons on espionage and infiltration, that you will need to use something like this. This remains to be seen. They work against animals and humans, but there is a technique to casting them. Further, you will have trouble using a tool like this against someone from the north, due to the thickness of the boots that you people wear. But down here, especially close to the border and on the Crimson side, it may come in handy. I bought you two sets last night. I also procured a small dagger, not unlike a throwing dagger, a kunai, that can strap to your arm.” Hojo nodded toward a small package sitting on the bed next to him. “Regarding the caltrops—I can show you the proper technique for casting them later.”
“And the smoke bombs you used yesterday? What about those?”
“Later. We should probably begin our next lesson now, one detailing a maneuver known as Body of Glue.”
Arik placed his feet on the ground, the wooden floorboards cold to the touch. “Same place?”
“Correct, the small courtyard behind the inn. Be sure to eat something on your way.” Hojo gestured toward a bowl of fruit on the table. “I’ve already checked on Tatum this morning, and it appears as if he has taken the day off.”
This caused Meosa to laugh. “Is that common for a warrior pilgrimage?”
“It is. I’ll see you soon.” Hojo gathered all the caltrops through a rapidfire movement, the tiny obstacles practically shooting back into his hand.
“He’s a show off,” Meosa said once he was gone, “and not to mention he’s always hiding something. Don’t you get that feeling?”
“I get the feeling that everyone is hiding something from someone…”
“Listen to you, sounding like a stuck-up philosopher straight out of Ezochi’s most soiled hovel. I would sit here and reveal my innermost secrets to you, but none of them are really worth anything, and you have plans for today. Might I make a suggestion, disciple?”
Arik nodded.
“Try not to get your arm cut off in your next bout. That was… worrisome to me.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“And I’m not staying here this time,” said Meosa. “Just in case I’m needed.”
****
It wasn’t long before Arik was standing in the courtyard before Hojo, the master illusionist once again keeping his sword sheathed.
“There are many techniques for closing the distance between you and your opponent and keeping the pressure up on them, several of which I’m sure you know by now, that Combat Master Nankai may have imparted to you. From the way you fight, I’m assuming that he mostly focused on an Attacking Initiative, yes? Striking first?”
“Yes.”
“And perhaps by now you realize that is mostly because he was teaching disciples how to fight, and most notably with a single weapon. He did teach at the Double Sword Academy of Combat Arts, did he not?”
“He did.”
“Yet he taught you to wield a single blade. Thinking about this deeply, one would assume that the reason he focused on teaching you the advantage of being the first to strike was because that is one of the best ways to handle someone who is wielding two blades. Two blades mean two chances for death versus one. Best to be the one initiating. All things that I agree with. What I’m about to show you, the Body of Glue technique, is one that you can utilize in a number of ways against opponents with varying weapons. Relatedly, because Tatum has decided not to grace us with his presence today, I’ve already found another challenger for you, or I suppose you are the challenger for them. And their primary weapon is an axe.”
“You want me to fight someone using an axe?”
“A weapon is a weapon, and unless it is one that has some trajectory on it, a sword should do just fine. To clarify my statement: your opponent doesn’t have a bow and arrow. That would change things to some degree. Now, the Body of Glue technique. The idea is to advance on your opponent and then attach yourself to them, body to body. Mirror their movements with yours. You’ll notice that many opponents push their head and legs forward to some degree, and in doing so they leave their bodies behind. It is something to think about. Try not to do that. Now, get into your traditional upper stance, I will show you what I mean.”
Arik moved into position and withdrew his blade.
“Without changing how you’re standing, notice where your arms are and where your chin is.”
Arik glanced down. It wasn’t really possible from his current position to observe how he was standing. By
the time he looked up, Hojo was suddenly closer to Arik than he had been just moments ago. Arik tried to step back and as he did Hojo stepped forward.
“Some sort of demented illusionist dance if you ask me,” Meosa said as Hojo continued to keep on Arik, his voice startling the disciple to some degree as he had been quiet up until this point.
“The Body of Glue was once called the Body of the Autumn Monkey,” Hojo said, the master illusionist close enough to Arik that he should have been able to pick up a scent from the man, but he didn’t, Hojo’s tattered appearance not matching his odorlessness. “The name changed years ago, and if there were any texts left detailing the older technique, they no longer exist. The Body of the Autumn Monkey refers to the same procedure of keeping as close to your opponent as possible. By not extending your arms, you can incorporate this in your next attempt. Watch first.”
Hojo came even closer to Arik, to the point that the disciple naturally tried to bring his own weapon up. The tip of Hojo’s sheathed blade tapped against Arik’s wrist. Not only was he able to prevent Arik from even getting his weapon up, but his constant presence was constantly intimidating, Arik realizing just how beneficial the Body of Glue technique would be once a person mastered it.
So you just stick to a person, not letting them get a leg up…
“Step back and bring your blade to the ready,” Hojo instructed him. “This technique works if someone has their weapon drawn or pointed toward the ground. The most difficult part is trusting yourself, and leaving your fear behind. Try it on me.”
Hojo brought his weapon up and Arik quickly advanced on him, stumbling at first but eventually finding his footing.
Every time Hojo moved, Arik attempted to move with him, to predict where he was going. He was often right. It was only when he over-thought it that he slipped up, Hojo noting this almost immediately.
“This is a classic technique used by illusionists. Have you ever thought to yourself how the Jade Realm has successfully existed for so long between two realms fueled by bad blood, Onyxians and Crimsonians?”
“Because it acts as a buffer zone?” Arik asked as he moved in again, Hojo naturally shuffling backward, Arik pursuing him.
“Yes, to some degree.”
Arik sent his sword down at that exact moment, and stopped just before he reached Hojo’s sheathed weapon.
“Good, like that,” said the master illusionist. “The Jade Realm has been successful because we mirror the countries on our borders. You’ve been to Omoto; could you really tell the difference between the Crimsonian and the Jadean side without the flags? Sure, there are some differences, but there is a congruence between the two. Have you been to Austere?”
“No,” Arik said, aware that Hojo was referring to a city along the northern border, which, like Omoto, extended into both the Jade and Onyx Realm.
“Maybe you will one day, and when you do you will understand why the Jade Realm is ripe for a technique like this. You’re doing well,” Hojo said as he quickly shot one elbow forward, striking Arik in the chin.
The disciple hit the hard stone ground, a pain spreading in his teeth.
“Just say the word,” Meosa told Arik quietly, the aqueous kami clearly not a fan of the cheap shot.
“It’s fine.” Arik pushed himself back to his feet, prepared to go again.
“There are a number of techniques you can use in a sword fight that don’t involve a blade, some of which I’m sure you know,” Hojo said. “The most popular is feet or shoulders, but a well-timed elbow can really put a shock to your opponent. Another thing you can attempt is to slap them, but be prepared to lose a hand if you’re not careful. You can regrow a hand, right?”
“It takes some effort, but yes.”
“Fascinating. Approach me again, disciple. Body of Glue, and while you’re at it, try to combine it with the technique that I taught you yesterday, Autumn Leaves Strike.”
“Got it.”
“Keep on your opponent as if you were glued to them, as if you were their shadow, and try to disarm them. It’s one of the faster ways to victory.” Hojo quickly stepped beside and swept a few strands of hair out of his face that had separated from his ponytail. “Practice to the best of your ability now, disciple. You will need these techniques later today; I wouldn’t want to see the mountain woman hack you to pieces.”
“Mountain woman?” Arik asked.
“The opponent I have selected for you is from Moonagwa, and she has apparently carved out a good many skulls with her axe. Hopefully, yours won’t be one of them.”
.Chapter Seven.
“The hidden warrior must be able to distinguish the difference between the cadence of harmony and that of discord.”
–A quote attributed to Hidden Warrior Torugan de Avarga, Year 1431.
Arik Dacre didn’t want to fight the woman from the western Jadean city of Moonagwa. It had little to do with chivalry—he had battled against female disciples in some of the tournaments back at the Academy of Healing Arts—and more to do with the stipulations of the fight as listed on the sign outside of the pilgrimage courtyard.
The female fighter had asked only for challengers willing to die.
The day had grown cloudy over the last few hours, the stone beneath them slick, the humidity thick in the air, seeming to hover over the ancient city of Iga and at odds with how cool the weather had been previously.
Arik could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead as he withdrew his blade, his eyes on his opponent, the blonde wearing the head of a mountain lion as a cap, a streak of either red paint or blood spread across her eyes in a band. Her robes were made of a thick hide kept close to her body by strands of rope that were originally light brown. In her hand, as Hojo had promised, was an axe, one with a fox tail, maybe even a legendary kitsune tail, affixed to the grip.
She flourished her weapon once as she looked Arik over.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“She’s your enemy, disciple,” Meosa reminded him. “If she didn’t write her name on the banner outside, she doesn’t want you to know.”
“Nyoko,” she said, her voice much more feminine than Arik expected. Considering the thick hide covering her body and the weight of her several layers of clothing, Arik was surprised that the woman had such a soft voice.
The people seated in the stands around them, which included Hojo, began to murmur, thirsty for a fight to begin. A few yelled things at Arik, but he ignored them as he slightly bowed his head to the female fighter.
“I am Arik,” he said.
“And I am getting bored with this,” Meosa snorted. “Disciple, you are here to practice the illusionist’s techniques, not make a friend with a mongrel from the western mountains.”
“Nice to meet you, Arik.” Nyoko flourished her axe once again.
It was on.
As he advanced, Arik kept his eyes on the woman’s weapon, noticing the way that she wielded it with both hands. In doing so she crowded the space immediately around her.
Need to get in closer… he thought, hoping to attempt the Body of Glue.
He got the hang of the technique, but that had been in a practice session with Hojo, and now, in a real fight, it was much harder to get close enough to the woman to mirror her movements.
Suddenly, as if sparked by a flash of insight, it all clicked, Arik leaping backward to avoid a series of attacks.
He wasn’t moving with the person, as Hojo had said, he was counter moving with them, which spoke to some of the lessons Combat Master Nankai had given him, a variation on initiating the strike.
You can do this, he thought as she tried once again, her fourth strike missing.
Klank!
Arik guided his blade into the handle of her weapon and failed. His strike hadn’t been strong enough, her grip tight to the point that he didn’t think he’d be able to knock the weapon away.
Moving in the style that Hojo had shown him, Arik gracefully slipped around her. It was much less rigid
than the way they moved down south, the way he had been taught, Arik adapting to it much faster than he should have likely due to his understanding of the fluid aspects of chi.
“That’s good, disciple,” Hojo had told him earlier. “Water doesn’t have a shape as well. If you can’t be wind, be water.”
Be water…
(Be water.)
With this in mind, Arik took a few quick steps backward as his opponent changed up her grip, Nyoko growing agitated with the way that he kept sidestepping her attacks.
She flung herself forward, and as she did, he imagined himself as a wave rushing to the right, Arik’s feet naturally falling into position as she stumbled past.
She fell, and he could have ended it right there yet he didn’t, Arik simply taking a step back and once again bringing his blade to the ready. He wanted to attempt the Body of Glue technique, and at some point he wanted to land the Autumn Leaves Strike.
Nyoko stood, her shoulders hunched up for a moment, left fist balled at her side, axe in her right hand. The woman turned to Arik, glaring at him now as if he were toying with her.
Her nostrils flared wide, Nyoko sucking in a deep breath, and completely relaxing her form.
Just moments ago, she had seemed agitated to the point that her next slip-up would cost her life, yet now she was in control again, Arik impressed at how powerful her forced moment of respite had been.
Her eyes locked on him again; she shot forward, and as she did, Arik once again began to step aside, flowing like water. He even saw a way to end it right there, to bring the crest of the wave down and simply free the woman of her head. But her sudden movement, and the almost berserker way she twisted with her axe, forced Arik to block her more calculated attempt.
Clang!
The woman’s force was something he’d encountered before in the Crimson Realm, Arik seeing just how important it was to move like water. Had he kept a rigid stance, Nyoko would have certainly broken through. Now, he was already in the process of flowing backward, Arik using their momentum to once again let the bull out of its pen.
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