But those memories. They were from so very long ago.
Eiji was undying. He could not say what happened in the afterlife. Was one joined with one’s ancestors and left to guard future generations, or reborn, over and over, to fulfill some mysterious destiny of spirit?
Looking through the windows, watching the lady and the troubling, familiar movements of the Mamoru … the Emperor could believe the latter.
He made a sound, dissatisfied, and finally said, “You are always hungry. I grow tired of feeding your appetite.” He did not say, there was a time when I would have refused your hunger. There was a time when life was precious to me. He didn’t need to say the words. The Emperor’s thoughts had not been his own for five hundred years. But strangely, instead of growing worse, the fog in his mind thinned further, and he took a breath that felt almost free.
The Protector and the lady had mounted their horses now. The Emperor watched them move in concert, horses breaking into a canter once beyond the outer gate. During the day, neither the Protector nor the lady was ever seen without the other, as it was supposed to be.
Except long ago – centuries ago – when the role of the Mamoru had been different.
Why?
The question made him uncomfortable. Unconsciously, he lifted a hand and pressed it against the tightness he felt in his chest.
Before he could think deeply on it, there was a rumble of sound. Though only in his mind, he felt the shuddering power of it. The warning pressed in on him, making it difficult to breathe. “Watch yourself. Do not forget what brought you power.”
He hadn’t forgotten. Memories of swirling smoke, flashing metal and anger, everything burning. He heard screams again and he knew them. “I have not forgotten. That it was you.” The echo of that past life drew something tight in his chest. He took a ragged breath, curling in on himself against the pain – and suddenly, he did not want this clarity.
With the sour fog of rage lifted, he could feel the present, the now. What was he doing? He looked across that brilliant green fronting the palace. It was beautiful. It had been so long since he’d noticed. That color, it reminded him of something. He blinked, shaking his head, trying to think.
There was something he needed to do, quickly, before it was too late. A voice, his own, small and far away, echoed in his mind. It is only because the ceremony is near. His hold on you is weak. It must be now, or never. His thoughts were still reaching for that memory, just out of reach.
Emerald grass.
Green eyes. Rarely seen in the entire country and yet back then, he’d known two with them. He’d known them well.
One pair brought longing, slow and aching.
Aerise.
But the other pair of eyes, that other pair. No matter how hauntingly beautiful – brought a flash of anger, and the hot burn of betrayal. When the memory of those betraying eyes echoed in his mind, he felt the mental growl of his ever-present watcher. Some part of him recognized he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. He wasn’t supposed to try to remember, but now it was too late. Slowly, like a rising tide, a terrible pressure built in his mind. He raised shaking hands to his head. His breathing shuddering as he struggled to hold on to the memories of that earlier time.
It was important.
Moments, minutes passed, but darkness spilled over, flooding him with that familiar, consuming, mind-dulling rage. Until he could no longer remember what it was exactly that he had objected to.
Frustrated by a sense that there was something just out of his reach, he looked again toward the village, seeing nothing but the walls surrounding the palace. Those walls, they angered him. And through the link he could feel hunger, and a yawning, aching emptiness. He needed to fill it.
The nephil should stretch their wings. A reminder for those in the province to heed the Emperor’s edicts. He felt the whispered commands through the link. They were not directed at him, but through him. Whatever the hunt yielded would help as well, their connection to the cold one would slake the thirst for a bit. And of course they needed to feed as well, it wouldn’t do to have them starving. They were hard enough to control, even when sated.
He needed everything to go smoothly during the ceremony.
Chapter 2
Ria huffed under the weight of the green canvas sack, staggering a little as it shifted. The thick cotton bag she carried was filled with fruit and vegetables, and its ungainly weight didn’t help matters. She hated this job, but the town was small and poor and there was nothing else. Especially for someone like her. She should be grateful that someone in her position had been able to find someone willing to give her a way to earn a living.
As it was, she was shunned by most of the village. She couldn’t help but be resentful, for being victim to a hateful label that had nothing to do with anything she or her mother had done. But they both bore the burden of it. Or, rather, both had borne the burden of it, until her mother had died. Now, it was hers alone.
Worse, buried deep beneath was the feeling that she wasn’t meant for this life. That there had been some horrible mistake somehow, that she belonged somewhere else.
So, as the villagers ignored her, she ignored them, her steps quick and showing only her interest in getting her errands done so she could get out of the burning sunlight. Even though there were trees scattered along the roadway, they offered meager shade against the smothering heat of the mid-morning sun. The girl had no interest in suffering heat-stroke for the pittance she was being paid.
Thankfully, she was almost at her destination. The sun beat down on her and the muscles in her neck, back and legs ached. She didn’t understand why the shop keep simply didn’t get a donkey to carry these heavy loads. Her deliveries would go so much more quickly and it would allow her to do more for the shop each day. She suspected that these deliveries had less to do with her getting her work done quickly and more to do with getting her out of the shop so people from the village would not be confronted with the “outcast.”
The steady thump of hooves on paving stones drew her attention from her self-pitying thoughts. It wasn’t the tread of a heavy workhorse, so Ria knew immediately that it must be the horse of a noble. Automatically, she moved to the side of the road to get out of the way, keeping her eyes respectfully lowered and paying careful attention to her steps. It wouldn’t do to upset a nobleman by being trampled by his horse. Trying to remain unnoticed, she kept her head down. Riding horses, in particular, were an expensive luxury and none but the wealthiest had them. There weren’t many in the village. In fact, there were only two, both owned by Kino Isao, who had once served the palace. Coincidentally, he was who she was making her delivery to. For that reason, she knew it must be someone from another area. Master Kino was a widower and lived alone. He was always home on delivery day.
The steed passed her and she looked up. It had been a good guess. The leather work on the saddle was beautiful, ornate and expensive. It was someone from a neighboring town. She recognized the symbol of the house. With the Emperor’s wedding in a fortnight, people were already coming from all over the country to watch and participate in the upcoming festivities. It meant she could look forward to an invasion of arrogant, demanding nobles and their pushy self-entitled servants. It would be an unwelcome upheaval to her (admittedly uneasy) peace in the village. She grit her teeth, shaking her head.
It was not long after that, when she was surprised to hear the tread of more horses. Two this time. At this rate, the inn would be full in a few days. The air around her growing even heavier with dust as they neared, once again she edged closer to the buildings as she walked. She heard the creak of leather and snorts of the horses drawing even with her. The smell of the pungent oil used to protect the gear stung her nose, making her sneeze. From the corner of her eye, she could see first the withers and then the fine fittings and etched leather of the saddle on the horse next to her.
Unconsciously, she glanced up. Her eyes widened. It was him. The man who’d confronted her that morni
ng. Heart pounding, she looked away, not even attempting to glimpse the other rider, hoping only that he hadn’t seen her. She still remembered the way he had slashed at that wooden training target and the keen edge to his gaze when he spied her in the tree, hefting the throwing knife and preparing to throw. It didn’t take much to guess that he wouldn’t be happy to see her.
And as she studied her feet and tried to appear invisible until they passed, she realized with a pang that she probably shouldn’t risk going back to the palace again. He’d heard her. Seen her, and to her eternal embarrassment, had obviously been aware of her for some time. Now that it was out in the open, she was certain he wouldn’t be able to ignore her obvious flouting of the law. To maintain his honor, he’d have to turn her in to the guards if he caught her there again.
But it hurt too much to think she’d never go back there. She would just have to avoid the area of the grounds where he trained. Yes. She could do that.
The riders finally passed, proceeding to the bend in the road and turning out of sight. Apparently, he hadn’t seen or recognized her. She started breathing again. And the widower’s house was just ahead. “Thank the goddess,” she muttered under her breath.
Kino met her at the door. “Good morning, Master Isao.”
His ageless face was tanned from tending the animals on his small farm and his dark eyes warmed when they saw her. He was one of the few customers whom Ria didn’t mind making the deliveries to. “I’m sorry, my dear. I cannot visit with you today,” he said, handing her the notes to pay for the groceries. At her quizzical look, he explained, “I have visitors that I must take care of.” It was then that Ria heard a gate close from behind the house and the eager neigh of a horse. Looking back at the road, she realized the bend was just beyond the Isao farm. Though that road eventually led out of town, it was obvious now those last two riders had come to see him.
“Be kind to an old man, would you? Take this grain back to the stable for me and throw some in the trough. Mice got into my stores and ruined it. I had to get rid of it all and now the sow and her little ones are starving.” He glanced behind him and Ria had the sense that he was nervous. That maybe he didn’t want her to see who was in his home.
Certainly he must know she would have seen them coming along the road? Or maybe, he just didn’t want them to see her. After all, she was of the lowest caste – so low she wasn’t even a part of the system. Her mouth twisted. Fine. Unaccountably disappointed, but not wanting to show disrespect to her elder, she nodded, walked down the steps of the modest patio and around to the rear of the house.
With sullen eyes on her goal, she’d almost walked past them before looking up. The two horses that had passed her were tied to a post behind the cozy home. One stood as tall as any workhorse she’d seen, though lean and finely muscled, its black coat smooth and shining. The other horse was more delicately built. A gray, with a dappled pattern that faded softly to a solid blue-gray on its flank. However, despite the obvious physical differences, the second horse was as finely dressed out as its larger companion. Ria felt a quick, painful twinge of jealousy. Even if she had not already known that they came from the palace, being confronted with the evidence of people who lived in such a different (much better) reality was like a slap to the face. She would never have this type of life.
She laughed at her thoughts, shaking her head. Of course she’d never have this type of life. She wasn’t meant for it, her least of anyone in the province. And she accepted it … she just didn’t like it.
What had her ancestors done to earn her such a dismal station?
The pigs came rolling out of the mud to see what she’d brought them, snuffling in her direction. She poured the grain and smiled as they dug in. She stayed longer than she should have, growing lazy in the afternoon sun and enjoying the entertainment of the mother sow and her piglets. She had just begun to rouse herself, when, glancing toward the chicken coop she caught a flash of white fur and the flicker of a long tail, curling around the edge of the post supporting the small structure.
Worried suddenly for the hens, she walked over, but it was gone. Odd. She scanned the farmyard. There it was again, the swish of a white tail nearly hidden in shadow. Odd and quick. It had somehow made it across the yard without her seeing it. Now, it was next to the large old tree near the corner of the house. She caught a flicker of iridescent eyes, catching the afternoon sun, even deep in the shadow of the oak. Her concern for the hen house was well founded. It was a fox, probably after fresh eggs.
It was a white fox.
She had never seen a fox this close before, and never a white one. Even knowing what it would do to the chickens, she found herself moving, itching to touch it. It was so tiny. So cute. It was probably soft. It watched her, eyes unblinking, head tilted to one side. It made a noise that made her think of the forest at night and she paused, suddenly uncertain. When it didn’t move, or even blink, she started moving again, shortening the distance between them. Taking slow, careful steps, her hand was reaching out, just inches away from the animal, when raised voices floated from the window nearest her.
“You have a duty to perform, Mamoru.” It was Kino-sama’s voice.
With a rustle of leaves, the tiny creature startled, turning and darting into the brush at the edge of the farm yard. Ria pouted when the last tuft of white disappeared into the green, as the elder continued, “Don’t be swayed by gossip and unproven rumor.”
Frustration colored the other’s reply. “Gossip. You say that, but you know as well as I that rumors are woven from the thread of fact. And this was Hilma, Kino.”
There was silence a moment. Ria imagined her elder pausing as he absorbed what was said. She didn’t know who this Hilma was, but Master Kino obviously did, for he made a sound of acknowledgment. Clearly, “Hilma” was not much of a gossip.
“Kino, I only have a fortnight left and …” Even without the telltale title that Kino had used, without having seen the Protector and the Lady Lynea riding in this direction, Ria would have recognized that voice. It was the man she’d been watching all these weeks. The man she’d spoken to that morning.
Continuing, Kino said, “Theron, you serve the Emperor. Not yourself.” His voice was gentle, yet the rebuke was unmistakable. “Your duty is to protect her. For our Lord Emperor.” Uneasy, Ria found herself biting at her lower lip. The way Kino-sama said that made it seem the Protector was doing something dishonorable. The Protector wouldn’t do anything like that.
Theron. Ria imagined how the dark-haired man must look, his expression drawn down as it had been that morning. Though she had not really heard him speak before this morning, the quality of his voice was burned into her memory now. It was easy enough to recognize – deep and warm and at this moment, filled with a heavy emotion that she could not quite place.
Until he spoke again. “I woke today, dreading the end of my service for my own selfish reasons,” his voice dropped and she found herself straining to hear him.
That was shame behind his words. Her stomach churned. Kino wasn’t right, was he? Were the Protector and the lady … ?
She leaned towards the window, her hand bracing herself against the worn wooden panel of the old house. It didn’t really help, she barely heard as the Protector continued. “But Kino, this is worse. So much worse. This uncertainty, not knowing, is a dagger in my chest, twisting.”
Kino responded in a voice of authority that Ria had never heard the old man use. “Your duty is to the Emperor, to protect his future bride until the wedding.” The elder’s voice softened, but the steel in it remained. “She will become Empress, then. Continue your service honorably, Mamoru.” Just then, in her attempt to find a better listening spot, Ria backed up a step, directly onto the tail of one of the piglets.
It squealed. Very, very loudly.
˜ ˜ ˜
There was a curse from inside the house and the sound of rapid footsteps heading towards the door leading to the animal pens. Ria took that as her cue to leav
e. Quickly.
The back yard was empty when Kino and Theron reached it.
“I’m sure it was nothing,” Kino said. He wasn’t about to mention the young village girl and her delivery. Theron already had too much to worry about. And besides, the girl’s status in the village guaranteed she had no one to gossip to. “The sow must have tromped on one of the little ones.” The old man raised a friendly hand to his adopted son’s shoulder and missed when the young Protector stepped forward, eyes on the loose dirt near the fence (and the barely scuffed impression of fresh footsteps there). Kino felt a twinge of pride for the young man’s sharp observation, even as he cringed for being caught. Apparently, Theron was not so easily fooled. Shrugging, the older man offered, “There was a delivery girl here earlier. Those are probably from her. Even if she lingered and heard us, we said nothing telling.” He smiled ruefully. “Likely because I have nothing to offer. I’m sorry.”
The younger man shook his head, pulling his eyes away from the footprints scuffed into the dirt. Though he worried about what had been heard by the eavesdropping delivery person, he knew what they said probably wouldn’t make sense to a villager, sheltered from what happened at the palace. It didn’t make sense to Theron, and he knew more than most.
He couldn’t be angry at the old Protector for trying to set his mind at ease. He’d known Kino of the Isao clan for nearly his entire life. In fact, the man had taken him in after the death of his parents, trained him and miraculously gotten him accepted as the Mamoru, even though tradition said it could only be a member of the Isao family (for good reason). It didn’t matter that with no one else available to take over the position, it had been unavoidable. It mattered that Kino had worked to convince them that, as his adopted son, Theron could do the job.
Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1) Page 3