by Ryan Kirk
A small part of her, the part attuned to combat, realized the Abbot was an expert in applying the whip. No strike landed in the same place. Sometimes he allowed the whip to curl around her torso, arms, or legs. The worst was when it lashed around and cut into the side of her breasts. That was a new and horrible sort of pain.
Moriko tried to focus, tried to find an inner sanctuary, someplace where she could shut out the pain. In between strikes she remembered the stories she had heard about monks who could withstand incredible pain without losing face. But the Abbot was a master at what he was doing and Moriko had no experience to draw on. He never gave her enough time between strikes to focus. They came one after the other and blurred together into one continuous experience of hell.
Time became endless, and she struggled to remember a time when her life wasn’t filled with pain and suffering. She had become so senseless she didn’t even realize her punishment had ended. There were no more lashes, just the unending torment of breath. A moment later her hearing returned to her, and she realized that the Abbot was speaking to the congregated monks.
“. . . violation of the rules of our order. Today I bring my sword, the ultimate symbol of the warriors which we are descended from. We are men and women with a sacred task, a task to protect the world we live in from all threats. If we are not united, the world itself falls. If we do not recognize the corruption, even within our own ranks, the Three Kingdoms would burn.”
The Abbot paused for effect. “We recognize in the sword the ultimate paradox. It is the protector of life, yet it brings death. Like the great warriors of old, we live in that paradox daily, struggling always to understand it. Today the sword decides the fate of the one who violated our precepts.”
Moriko’s sense returned to her just in time for her to sense the blade’s approach. Time slowed down, just as it had before, but there was nothing for her to do. No way to react. She was tied tightly and had no desire to live. She sensed it approach, unfeeling and uncaring. When it entered her, she couldn’t even distinguish it from the other levels of agony she was already suffering. But when she looked down and saw the point of the blade protruding from her torso, her blood sparkling in the evening sunlight, she couldn’t take anymore. For the second and final time that day, Moriko’s vision went black, and she went willingly into darkness’ cold, comforting embrace.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ryuu was no longer a boy. Several cycles had passed, and it was clear to any observer he was now a young man. He was of average height, but his musculature set him apart from others. The young man was lean, the muscles of his arms, torso and legs clearly defined, with no vestiges of childhood fat left. He walked tall and without hurry, taking in the world around him. Shigeru could always sense the faint tendrils of Ryuu’s sense expanding throughout whatever environment he was in, and it made him proud. Ryuu’s sense would be almost undetectable to the monks.
Just as important to Shigeru were Ryuu’s eyes. They never rested but were always moving back and forth, using every sense available to bring in information about his world. Many trainees, when they were young, relied on their sense too much. Shigeru knew there were ways to fool the sense, but not all six. Shigeru often told Ryuu no one could sneak up on him and it was probably true. Ryuu paid attention to people when they spoke, focusing exclusively on them. When he did his eyes would light up with the delight of conversation. It was obvious to all who encountered him he was focused on the present, always curious about everything around him. But what only Shigeru could sense was that even though Ryuu’s eyes might be focused on one person, his sense tendrils spread out even further. The boy was a marvel of awareness.
His swordsmanship was also excellent. Even if he hadn’t been sense-gifted Ryuu might have been one of the best in the Southern Kingdom. In conjunction with his sense, Shigeru suspected his student was one of the best warriors in the Three Kingdoms. And he had only seen fourteen cycles. His swordsmanship would improve as he gained more experience. The boy wasn’t anywhere close to his limits. There were warriors that could beat him, but all of them existed in a different life. Shigeru had a suspicion that in two or three cycles, if the boy’s path continued, he would be much stronger than his master. Their meeting had been incredible and Shigeru felt the subtle threads of the Great Cycle in everything the boy did. There was a convergence approaching, and Shigeru feared the consequences. They were not known as pleasant occasions.
Shigeru was apprehensive about the boy’s second resolution. He had sworn he would honor the proper training methods in the raising of the boy, but he had grown fond of the boy’s company. Shigeru had resigned himself long ago to a solitary, hunted life. He had never expected a son, and never one so unique. Ryuu was a cheerful, optimistic young man who balanced out Shigeru’s natural pessimism and cynicism. Shigeru knew what came next. It was, perhaps, the hardest of the choices a young nightblade made, but it was also the most necessary. It would be easy to justify another path, to say a new way would better. Some nights as Shigeru was relaxing in the evening with Ryuu, reading by the fire, he would think of all the ways it could be done differently.
But in the light of day Shigeru’s thinking was more clear. The training methods had the balance of history behind them. Shigeru himself hadn’t progressed far enough to understand the reasoning behind all the methods, but he never questioned the pure intent behind them. The old way was not the easy way, but it was true.
It was the dead of winter when Shigeru announced they would be going on a trip. Ryuu looked up at his master, grinning. “You mean we’re going to the village? I thought you were looking forward to not going back for a while.”
Shigeru shook his head. “No. Not to the village. It’s time for you to go to a city. Winter is the perfect time for it with many of the people inside because of the cold. We won’t be bothered and you will have to develop your sense there so you are prepared for it.”
Ryuu felt his stomach tighten up at the mention of a city. His parents had died returning from a city in winter, and he hadn’t been back in the intervening nine cycles. Winter was bandit season in the region, picking off travelers struggling with the weather. He didn’t want to go. “I already know how to handle the sense in a crowd of people. We’ve been to the village, and it has almost one hundred people.”
“Yes, and the fact you can allow your sense to spread as far as you do in the village is an impressive feat. But you need to find your limits. In New Haven there are tens of thousands of people and you’ll need to control your sense so the information doesn’t overwhelm your mind or distract you from your more immediate surroundings.”
“Why can’t we go in spring and blend in with the tourist crowd? That would be better practice.”
Shigeru’s look changed, and Ryuu could tell he had finally figured out Ryuu’s reluctance.
“You’ll be fine. We’re going together and we’ll stay together. Anyhow, you have a sword now and are more than capable of protecting yourself from any danger. Face your fear and you will discover it has no hold over you anymore.”
Ryuu nodded. Facing his fears sounded like an excellent plan, but his mind and body disagreed. His sleep was restless and his nightmares came back. He dreamed of blood, of the face of his mother, blurred with time. Even unclear her face still haunted him. He hadn’t had the dreams for cycles, and the memories made him sullen in the mornings leading up to their trip.
Shigeru noticed his attitude but pretended to ignore it. He was overly cheerful, and Ryuu considered more than once poking him with the pointy end of his sword. “Come on, let’s get started. It should only take us four or five days if we make good time.”
“I remember the trip as being a lot longer than that.”
“The last time we made it, it was. But you were also five then and didn’t walk as fast as you do now. I also found you several days east of the city.”
Ryuu chastised himself. Of course. He gathered his belongings in a pack and took off with Shigeru. As promised,
the trip only took four days. It was uneventful, but Ryuu felt like he was being reborn. He remembered clearly parts of his first journey with Shigeru. Her remembered the plains turning into forests, and now the forests turned back into plains. It was like re-entering the real world after a long absence in a make believe land. Now and then he glanced up to make sure Shigeru was still in front of him and real.
As they approached New Haven, Ryuu began to sense not just the enormity, but the density of the place. People were stacked on top of other people and they mixed and tore apart in innumerable ways. In just the space of a heartbeat Ryuu could sense people making love, people fighting, selling, bartering, begging, bribing, coercing, threatening, and laughing. In the unconscious monotony of the journey, Ryuu had spread his sense out much too far, and the sudden awareness of too much information overwhelmed him. He brought his sense back in, trying to find the ideal balance.
He was doing well until they entered the limits of the city. On the outskirts, Ryuu’s mind felt like it snapped. There were too many people, too much to keep track of. He couldn’t distinguish an enemy from a salesperson. He fell to his knees and clutched his head between his hands, rocking back and forth in an effort to get the information out of his head. In the past he had never had to restrict his sense. He had always allowed it to roam and to wander.
Shigeru’s voice penetrated the chaos surrounding his mind. He could hear the concern. Shigeru was repeating himself. He probably had been for a while. He was repeating Ryuu’s name. Ryuu glanced up and tried to focus on Shigeru’s face.
Shigeru noticed. “Focus on my voice. Think only about my voice. I’m right here for you.”
It took a tremendous effort, but Ryuu soon brought all of his focus to Shigeru’s voice. Shigeru kept speaking to him softly, reassuring him. As he focused, the pain in his head started to recede, replaced by an overwhelming numbness. He was tired, but it was better than being on the ground in pain. He saw the looks of the few passersby on the street.
Still focusing on Shigeru’s voice, Ryuu found his feet and stood up, supported by Shigeru’s shoulder.
From Shigeru’s voice, Ryuu focused on meditating on his own center. The drills came back to him, drilled over cycles of practice. Ryuu had found them meaningless in training, but understood now. After a couple of breaths, he was back, his sense limited to just a pace or two around him. He and Shigeru could have been the only people in the world at that moment.
He smiled uncertainly. “I’m back. That was. . . a lot.”
Shigeru nodded. The two of them stood in the center of the street as Ryuu tentatively expanded his sense once again. He let it expand a pace at a time, sipping at the extra information it provided. Once it got to be too much he backed off, limiting himself. It was tiring, but Shigeru had put him through much worse in training. He could handle it.
As they continued into the city, Ryuu continued to experiment. He would push out his sense until his head started to hurt, then bring it in close for a time. He practiced pulsing his sense out versus keeping it extended all the time. He was looking for balance, and every step into the city was more natural than the one preceding it. Like all challenges, he would overcome.
Shigeru led Ryuu through the city, allowing him the time and space to experiment with his sense. It was a cold day and most people did not travel slowly. People were bundled in layers, rushing from one house to the next, seeking warmth wherever it could be found. As a young man who had lived his entire life outside, Ryuu was confused. He didn’t notice the cold the way others seemed to. He asked Shigeru about it as he also seemed to be unaffected.
Shigeru would only provide one of his cryptic answers. “Our minds protect us.”
There was little to be gained from a visual inspection of their surroundings. There was nothing to see in the midst of the winter season. The buildings were drab and lifeless. They were bigger than Ryuu had seen in the villages near the forest, but besides size, there was little to distinguish them from anything else. As he lifted his gaze to the center of the city he saw buildings which were much larger and more ornate. Those he was interested in.
His memories were vague, but he recalled that New Haven was a place of lights and activity. The signs were everywhere, but the cold had shut the city down. Market stalls were empty and restaurants had their doors sealed tight against the blowing snow. If not for the sense, Ryuu almost could have convinced himself they were alone in the city.
Ryuu did notice no one his age wore a sword, at least with any ease. There were a few young men who seemed to carry swords as a symbol of status. But Ryuu could tell in a glance they were not actual swordsmen. Their bodies told him from the way they walked, the way they held themselves, their lack of muscle and awareness. He felt a revulsion towards them. Shigeru had taught him nothing but respect for the sword and the path which it cut. To wear a sword and not be prepared to use it made Ryuu sick. A sword was a weapon, not a fashion accessory. To wear one without skill was demeaning and dishonorable.
Ryuu felt the glances several of the adult men gave him. He couldn’t read their minds, but he suspected they felt about him much the same way he felt about the other boys carrying swords. They suspected him of being undeserving, of being a boy playing in a man’s world. A small piece of him shouted out, angry. He did not like being misjudged. He knew how to use a sword. He was nothing like these pretenders. But he kept his hand far from his sword. Shigeru had well drilled into him the importance of secrecy. He didn’t like being underestimated, but it was better than being killed.
On this journey they had changed from their typical disguise. Shigeru pretended to be a down-on-his-luck minor lord, and Ryuu his son. It allowed them to wear their swords out in the open.
Ryuu’s thoughts were further diverted by the sudden discovery of someone else using the sense. It felt like someone was trying to shine a light into a dark room, overpowering the shadows with light. Ryuu had never felt the sense used like this. It felt crude. The man using it was a ways off, but his path would cross with theirs. Ryuu glanced at Shigeru, but Shigeru kept to his path. Ryuu followed suit. It was always another test. The monk passed them, offering no acknowledgment of their presence. Ryuu didn’t need the sense to observe the fear the monk inspired in the people. Empty streets managed to become even more deserted as the monk passed.
Ryuu couldn’t help himself. The monk carried himself better than most, but Ryuu felt he had nothing to fear from the man. His use of the sense was rudimentary, like a child. He sent out his sense, contrary to everything Shigeru had ever told him to do.
The monk continued on without seeming to notice them. Ryuu saw the tension seep out of Shigeru’s shoulders. Shigeru had been ready to draw his blade at a moment’s notice.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“I could have beat him.”
“I know. That’s not the point. It brings attention to us, and attention brings armies to our doorstep. Secrecy is our best defense.”
Ryuu struggled. He had all these powers and no outlet to use them. Shigeru made it clear if he did, he would die. It was unfair.
“He didn’t even know I was sensing him.”
“They weren’t trained as you were. I don’t want you to tempt fate. Don’t worry. I have the feeling you’ll run into them soon enough.”
Ryuu disagreed. He wanted to use his powers. Now wasn’t soon enough.
After the monk was gone Ryuu was able to relax and take in more of his surroundings. They weren’t heading into the center of the city but were staying near the outskirts. Ryuu observed they were getting into parts of town with more and more businesses. It took him only a quick breath with his sense to figure out they were moving into the section of New Haven that dealt in prostitution.
Ryuu was confused. He knew about sex even if it wasn’t something he and Shigeru spoke about. He was a young man and his needs were growing, but it had always been academic to him given that he lived in a hut in the woods with only his surrogate fathe
r for company. He wondered if they had come for sex or if they had another purpose. His teenage imagination began to run away from him, fantasies clouding his reality. He was also nervous. He didn’t have a lot of experience with girls. There were a handful in the nearby village, but Ryuu had little to do with them.
Shigeru, after having known Ryuu a lifetime, must have sensed his apprentice’s thoughts. “It’s not what you think.” He gave a small half-smile. “At least, not quite.”
Ryuu relaxed a little, but was also disappointed. If not for sex why were they here? His curiosity and imagination ran far ahead of reality, stopping only when they reached a three story building with red lanterns on the outside. Shigeru led him inside. There were two guards whom Ryuu reached out to sense. They were strong, stronger than anyone he had encountered in the streets thus far, but he thought he could still kill them if he had to.
Shigeru knew where he was going and the guards didn’t bother to stop him or give him directions. Ryuu followed him to the second floor where they knelt in a small receiving room. They were greeted by a middle-aged woman who moved with power and precision. Ryuu didn’t sense anything special about her, but she was strong in her own way. Ryuu caught Shigeru’s glance of disapproval and immediately withdrew his sense. He still wasn’t sure when it was appropriate to use his powers.
The woman, although she moved with grace, was conflicted about something. She kept glancing at Ryuu with the slightest hint of suspicion in her eyes.
After pleasantries that seemed to last forever, Shigeru spoke. “You got my letter?”
“I did. Your offer was a very unique one, and coming from anyone else, I would have doubted the sincerity of it,” she paused. “Frankly, even coming from you, I doubt your motives. The girl is worth a fortune.”