Lysanne leaned forward and took Arin’s hand and winced in pain at her grip. “Stay calm, my dear. Stay calm.”
But Arin squeezed tighter and called out, “Oh, Adon, let it not be.”
“Dara Arin?”
“Slaughter. Bloody slaughter.”
“Dara Arin!”
“Dragons…”
“Dara, listen to me!”
“Oh, the children. Oh, oh, oh…I cannot, I cannot, I cannot…”
Now Lysanne called out sharply, “Lady Arin, listen to me! Step beyond these vile seeings, past the slaughter, past the famine, past the disease, past the pestilence. Find a place of calm.”
Arin jerked her head one way, then another, and back and forth again. “There is, there is no, no place.”
“Then listen to me, Arin. Listen to my voice. Hear me. Time stands still! All is frozen in a single moment! Nothing moves! Nothing at all. Nothing. It is arrested as if in a painting, as if in tapestry.”
Gradually, Arin slowed her thrashing until she was still, though she continued breathing in rapid puffs. She relaxed her grip, but Lysanne did not take her own bruised hand away.
“Arin, I want you to step past these frozen images until you come to that place where you could endure no more of these sights, where your mind and soul had to flee from the seeing of them. Go to the place where the vision you told to the Council comes to an end, but go no further, for here it is we would see that which was heretofore forgotten by you.”
Arin groaned. “Horror,” she murmured. “Between here and there.”
“Past them, Dara, past them. To the end of your clear telling.”
Again Arin moaned, and it seemed as though she were laboring to cross rugged land. At last her breathing slowed.
“Have you come to the place where your remembered vision ends?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Heed me, I want you to tell me what you see.”
Arin did not speak.
“Tell me,” demanded Lysanne.
Arin shook her head and muttered, “Nothing. I see nothing. All is darkness.”
“Darkness?”
“Aye.”
“And you see nothing whatsoever?”
“Nothing.”
Lost in thought, Lysanne glanced ’round the room, unperceiving. Now she turned back to Arin. “Are there memories from this darkness?”
Arin’s breathing increased. “Yes.”
“Memories of what?”
“Something. A voice, runes, knowledge, I don’t know.”
Lysanne leaned forward and placed a hand to Arin’s forehead. “Recodare!” she demanded.
Arin sat up and her eyes snapped open, but they were focused on a point beyond time and space. And in a voice hardly her own she intoned:
“The Cat Who Fell from Grace;
One-Eye in Dark Water;
Mad Monarch’s Rutting Peacock;
The Ferret in the High King’s Cage;
Cursed Keeper of Faith in the Maze:
Take these with thee,
No more,
No less,
Else thou wilt fail
To find the Jaded Soul.”
And then Arin slumped forward as Lysanne caught her, the Dylvana unconscious to the world.
CHAPTER 24
And that is the whole of the rede?” asked Sage Arilla. “Yes,” replied Lysanne. “Or so I think.” She glanced at Arin.
The Dylvana nodded. “I remember it all, now. Why I forgot it, I cannot say.”
“Chide not thyself, Arin,” said Rissa. “It was a grim vision. Enough to shake all souls.”
“Rissa is right, Dara Arin,” concurred Lysanne. “When the vision first came upon you, it was too much for your soul to bear, and that’s why you fled from it and did not remember all. Yet listen to me, whether or not I helped you to recover that which was hidden, you would have succeeded on your own, given time.”
“Mayhap time is what we have little of,” said Vanidar Silverleaf.
“Perhaps it is too late even now,” agreed Arin glumly.
Lysanne sighed. “Wild magic is vexing.”
Rissa turned to her and frowned. “Vexing?”
Lysanne nodded. “This vision of Lady Arin’s—wild magic does not tell us when it is to happen. The vision could tell of events occurring at this very moment, or that which is soon to occur, or that which might occur ten thousand years in the future.”
Arin held out a negating palm. “We cannot gamble on the chance that the doom lies years in the future, for if we are wrong the consequences are too great. Instead we must believe that even now events are moving apace. Else why would the vision have come to me now?”
Lysanne turned up her hands, for she had no answer to Arin’s question.
They sat in a cluster of comfortable chairs in the common room of the guest quarters, the Elves and the two Mages. The Ryodoan warrior, Aiko, sat against a wall some distance from them and directly behind Arin.
“But the rede,” said Perin, “what does it mean?”
“A complete mystery, that,” added Biren.
Lysanne shook her head. “No, Alor Biren, not a complete mystery. Even now there is some we can glean from it, but not all.”
Melor looked at the white-haired Mage and said, “I agree.”
Biren turned to Melor. “And that is…?”
“Yes, do tell,” added Perin.
Melor shrugged, then said, “Dara Arin has been given a mission.”
“Mission?” asked Biren.
“To do what?” asked Perin.
“To find the Jaded Soul,” said Melor.
Both Lysanne and Sage Arilla nodded in accord.
Biren glanced from one to the other. “And this so-called Jaded Soul…?”
“The Green Stone of Xian,” said Arilla.
“The Dragonstone,” said Lysanne.
“Hmm,” mused Perin.
“But why would it be called the Jaded Soul?” asked Biren.
“It looks like jade,” replied Perin.
“Mayhap there’s more to it than that,” responded Biren.
“And mayhap not,” said Perin.
Arin took a deep breath and exhaled. “If we only knew something of the stone and why the Dragons fear it.”
“There is a legend,” came a voice from behind. It was Aiko. She sat in a lotus position, her back against the wall, her eyes closed.
Arin turned about. “Legend, Aiko?”
Aiko opened her dark, almond eyes. “To the west and north of Ryodo lies an ancient land called Moko. The soshoku of Moko, all onna, say one day a mahotsukai yushi odatemono will come and will bear the mark of the Dragon. He will lead the people of Moko in conquest of all the world. And he will possess a mighty talisman and Dragons shall bow to his will.”
Arin held out a hand to stay Aiko’s voice. “Aiko, thou didst use words in a tongue I speak not.”
“Forgive me, my Lady.” Aiko paused in reflection, then said, “Ah. Yes. ‘The soshoku of Moko are all onna,’ means, the priesthood of Moko are all women; and a mahotsukai yushi odatemono is a Mage warrior-king.”
Arilla said, “And the people of Moko believe that a Mage warrior-king will one day lead them in the conquest of the world, and he will have Dragons at his command?”
“Forget not the talisman,” said Lysanne. “It could be the Dragonstone.”
“The missing Dragonstone,” growled Rissa.
Lysanne nodded and looked at Aiko, but the Ryodoan warrior shrugged and said, “If the legend is true.”
“Perhaps it is just fancy,” said Biren.
“Mage warrior-king or no,” said Perin, “we’ve got to find the Dragonstone and keep it from the hands of those who would use it for ill, whatever it may do.” He turned to Arin. “Where will we start? In Moko?”
Vanidar Silverleaf leapt to his feet and paced back and forth in agitation; he clenched his fists white-knuckle tight and he shook his head in ire. “Perin,” he gritted, “we do not s
tart at all.”
“Not start at all?” asked Biren, shocked. “Whatever dost thou mean, Vanidar?”
Silverleaf stopped and turned, his gaze sweeping over everyone there. “The rede. Arin’s rede. If we go with her, she will fail.”
“What?” barked Ruar.
Silverleaf looked at Arin. “Say the rede again, Dara.”
Arin spoke quietly:
“The Cat Who Fell from Grace;
One-Eye in Dark Water;
Mad Monarch’s Rutting Peacock;
The Ferret in the High King’s Cage;
Cursed Keeper of Faith in the Maze:
Take these with thee,
No more,
No less,
Else thou wilt fail
To find the Jaded Soul.”
Now Silverleaf turned to the others. “Heed the words of her vision: ‘Take these with thee, no more, no less, else thou wilt fail to find the Jaded Soul.’
“Dara Arin’s mission is to find the Jaded Soul, and she must take with her only those who meet the terms of the rede and none else. And although I know not the answer to the conundrum of her vision, this I can say: not a single person among us suits the riddle of the rede.”
“Not true,” called Aiko. All eyes turned her way. She had a peculiar look on her face, something akin to guilt, as she stood and moved to come before Arin. Aiko knelt at Arin’s feet and lowered her gaze and would not meet the Dylvana’s eyes. Then she buried her face in her hands and lowered her head to the floor in shame, and her voice could but barely be heard. “Forgive me, my Lady, but this you must know: I am the cat who fell from grace.”
CHAPTER 25
Arin leaned down and took Aiko by the shoulders and raised her to a kneeling position, but the Ryodoan kept her eyes downcast and would not meet the Dylvana’s gaze.
Perin said, “Aiko, thou art no cat.”
“Aye,” added Biren. “How couldst thou be the cat of Dara Arin’s vision, the cat who fell from grace?”
Her eyes focused on the floor, Aiko bleakly said, “I betrayed my father.”
* * *
Hiroko died giving birth to Aiko, and Armsmaster Kurita was left with the care of her, his only child. Grieving, he departed the shiro of Lord Yodama and took his newborn and household to live in his home in the Kumotta Mountains.
The Armsmaster had always wanted a son to follow the warrior tradition, and in spite of the fact that Aiko was a girl and in spite of the law of the land, he raised her in the ways of senso o suru hito. He taught her the bow and stave and spear, and the way of the two swords; he taught her the throwing of daggers and of shiruken, the riding of horses and the ways of the lance; and he taught her the art of unarmed combat as well—for in Lord Yodama’s shiro, Kurita had been master and mentor in all these things.
When she had reached but sixteen summers, war came unto the province, and a messenger rode to the mountain, and Kurita once again donned his armor to fight at the side of Lord Yodama. He rode away that day and left his daughter behind.
Yet the moment he was out of sight, Aiko donned her own armor, leather and scaled with brass, and took up her weapons and mounted her horse and followed slowly after, her face hidden behind a silken mask.
She rode down to the valleys below and overtook her father’s rentai marching in the army north to meet the foe, and she merged her horse into Lord Yodama’s Red Tiger cavalry ranks.
The men of the mounted regiment said nought as they were joined by this anonymous youth, for it was the custom of untried young men to come to war wearing silken masks so that no dishonor would fall upon them or their families should their services to the Warlord prove to be undistinguished in any way. Yet should they show valor in battle, then according to form the mask would be ceremoniously removed and the warrior and his family honored. Regardless, at least for now Aiko remained anonymous as Yodama’s brigades passed across the land.
In the days that followed, Aiko was careful never to expose herself to the men when she relieved herself or when she washed or bathed, else they would discover she was female.
At last Yodama’s army came face to face with Hirota’s, and they amassed in drawn up ranks on opposite sides of a shallow valley, a sparkling stream coursing through at the bottom, a stream which soon would run red.
In the first battle with Hirota’s army, Aiko was a savage reaper, for her father had taught her well.
In the second battle, she and three others broke through a ring of the foe and rescued the entrapped Lord Yodama himself. She and Yodama were the only ones to escape alive, and this primarily because of her flashing steel.
In the ceremony that followed, Aiko did not remove her silken mask even though it was custom. Lord Yodama was surprised at her desire to remain anonymous, yet in the historical past others had also retained their masks, and so Lord Yodama did not insist. Instead he named her to the Order of the Red Tiger and sent her to the tent of the onna-mahotsukai and commanded the witch to give this warrior his requisite tattoo. This Aiko could not refuse.
The witch was ancient, and when she insisted that Aiko remove her armored jacket and silken undershirt, the old woman’s eyes widened at what was exposed. Even so, she said nought, but instead muttered over her needles and inks, adding potions and powders to the mix.
The crone carefully etched a baleful red tiger glaring out from between Aiko’s breasts, the witch whispering and sissing all the while unto the crimson cat slowly revealed, as if it were a creature alive. When the old woman was done she winked up at Aiko and grinned a toothless smile, sharing the warrior’s secret. And as Aiko started to don her silken undershirt and leather jacket, the witch reached out and touched the sanguine image between Aiko’s breasts and said, “I have given you a special tora, child; listen to her closely; heed her guidance and warnings, for you are in her care.”
In the third and fourth battles of the war between Yodama’s Red Tigers and Hirota’s Golden Dragons, Aiko distinguished herself time and again.
And still she declined to reveal her face to Lord Yodama.
In the fifth and final battle, Lord Yodama was arrow-slain, and his son, Yoranaga, took command. They routed Hirota’s Golden Dragons, and no mercy was shown.
In the ceremonies that followed, Lord Yoranaga commanded Aiko to remove the mask. She respectfully declined, but Yoranaga insisted. Reluctantly she did so. Armsmaster Kurita, standing at Yoranaga’s side, gasped, “Aiko,” for he saw that this gallant warrior was none other than his very own daughter.
Now all was revealed—Aiko was female!—and Lord Yoranaga was harsh in his judgement, for Armsmaster Kurita had broken the law of the land. Kurita was stripped of his weapons and properties and titles and commanded to live all the rest of his days in poverty and disgrace. Aiko, hero—nay, heroine of the war, savior of Lord Yodama, gallant warrior in the Order of the Red Tiger—was banished from Ryodo altogether.
* * *
With her eyes still downcast, Aiko said to Arin, “Because of me my father is dishonored. I betrayed him and his lord and my country.” Aiko unbuttoned her jacket and silken undershirt to reveal the glaring red tiger. “I am yadonashi—outcast. I am the cat who fell from grace.”
Arin shook her head and stood and lifted Aiko to her feet. “No, Lady Aiko, thou didst not betray aught. ‘Twas but outmoded custom thou didst break.”
“Aye,” said Rissa. “A custom we Elves abandoned long past. If females bearing arms and engaging in combat is dishonorable, then nearly half of all Elves are so disgraced.” Rissa drew her sword and flashed it on high. “Here’s to the sisterhood of such dishonor—long may we reign.”
Laughing, Vanidar raised up his long-knife and clanged his blade against hers. “So be it.”
So be it! echoed Melor, Ruar, Perin, and Biren.
“So be it,” whispered Arin in Aiko’s ear. Then Arin held Aiko at arm’s length and said, “Thou didst no dishonorable thing, Aiko; nevertheless, I do accept thee as the cat who fell from grace.”
CHAPTER 26
Councilmage Belgon grasped the lapels of his overrobe and said, “Warrior Aiko may indeed be the so-called ‘cat who fell from grace,’ Lady Arin, but what of these other references in your rede? Who or what might they be? Given the nature of the Green Stone, I am quite in the dark.”
The other Mages ’round the Council chamber muttered and nodded in agreement. Sage Arilla rapped for order, and when quiet fell, she said, “All of us are quite in the dark, Wizard Belgon. Yet perhaps if we reason together we may shed some light on this mystery. In particular, we should strive to resolve the riddle of just who these others are whom Lady Arin must find to aid her in her mission.”
A murmur whispered around the Council Chamber, but fell to silence when Lysanne said, “Forget not the legend Warrior Aiko recounted, for it, too, may have some bearing—being, as it is, a tale of a Wizard warrior-king who is to raise the nation of Moko to conquer the world, and who will wield a mighty talisman before which even the Dragons must bow.”
“Do you believe it is the Dragonstone?” asked Irunan from his seat against the wall.
Arilla raised a negating hand. “Leap to no conclusions, for the whole tale smacks of but a fable and may have no bearing at all on the Dragonstone or on Dara Arin’s mission.”
“And then again perhaps it is very relevant,” said Belgon, “coming as it does at this particular time. It speaks of war and Dragons and of a Wizard warrior-king.”
Gelon, at Irunan’s side, called out: “But who among Wizards would do such a thing?”
“Renegades, Black Mages, others,” replied Belgon. “Anyone consumed with ambition to rule, no matter the cost to those who get in the way.” He paused and looked about the chamber, then said, “Perhaps someone in this very hall.”
Shouts of denial followed Belgon’s words, and Arilla rapped the gavel hard and long ere order was restored. The Sage fixed Belgon with a cold stare. “There was no cause for that accusation, Belgon.”
Belgon sketched a seated bow and said, “I do apologize to this entire assembly, Sage.”
Arilla looked long at him and finally said, “Well and good, Belgon. Well and good.” She turned to the others and rapped once with her gavel. “And now, Council, let us get to the matter at hand: Lady Arin solicits our advice as concerns the words of her vision. Specifically she desires suggestions as how to find those who are to aid her in her mission.” Arilla leaned back in her chair and spoke to Lysanne. “Would you repeat the list?”
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