by Jeremy Finn
When he drew his attention back to the sightseers, they had turned down a narrow alley heading off the main street. He hobbled to follow them with a warm, sticky feeling running along the side of his leg and into his shoe as blood continued to ooze slowly from the torn flesh on his hip. After snaking along a cobblestone lane surrounded by tiny restaurants and almost concealed from the night sky by overhanging tile roofs, the group stopped in front of a place decorated on the inside with old farm implements and filled with low tables made of huge slabs of solid wood. Women in traditional dress were quickly carrying large bowls of a steaming soup with huge dumplings swimming in them to the tables where guests sat on the floor drinking beer and rice wine. James started to break away from the group with the intention of continuing down the lane and hopefully finding an indiscriminate hotel when he glanced back down the corridor and caught a glimpse of the frustrated officer through a narrow gap between the winding sides of the lane. He was walking in his direction and casting desperate glances in the restaurant windows.
“Who are you?” the local tour guide said and placed his hand on James’ chest. He had instinctively decided to follow the group into the restaurant, maybe in the hope that he could blend in with them, or disappear into the bathroom before the officer passed by.
“Oh,” James stalled. “I’m with the group. I’ve been hanging around in the back so you probably didn’t notice me.”
“You are lying!” The man shouted. “I have been leading this group for three days and I never saw you!”
The guide’s yelling drew attention from people seated in the restaurant and passersby. Unfortunately, it also drew the officer’s attention. James saw him jog to the bend in the alleyway and crane his neck around to see what was causing the commotion. Their eyes met, and James bolted down the lane with new life in his injured leg. He could hear the guide hollering something in the local language after him and then a thud and a crash as the officer must have thrust the man aside in his drive to follow James down the narrow path. The officer was gaining rapidly and James was running in desperation again with little plan or reason. As he rounded another bend, he saw the narrow alley abruptly end in a wide open space. He ran into the space and realized he was in a small garden nestled within the confused jumble of closely packed houses and restaurants. There were some tables and chairs around the garden, and it looked like it could be an outdoor dining area for one of the restaurants. It was uninhabited and dark, though, and James struck the foot of his bad leg against a small step running across the path leading into the garden. He hit the ground like a sack of rice and rolled over to face his opponent. He fumbled at his waist as the man approached the entrance to the garden. He stopped when he stood at the end of the alley, about five meters from him. Finally James found the hilt of his rhema and drew it out defensively as he clawed with his left arm in an attempt to pick himself up. The officer seemed to hesitate for a moment as the crystal pure light from the blade washed across the courtyard, then he smirked and reached behind his back, drawing out his handgun.
“The hunt is over, servant.” He said coolly. “I will take the glory.”
His hand rose slowly as he drew a bead on James’ head. An impulse to throw his sword at the man raced into James mind, but before he could attempt the desperate move, something liquid black raced through the air in front of the officer and his hand suddenly dropped to the ground with the pistol still firmly in its grip. For a moment, the whole scene froze. James sat leaning back against his left arm, his blade illuminating the surroundings. The officer stood staring at him, his arm stretched toward James, but ending in a sickening stub that began to spurt blood with the pulse of his heart.
After an eternal moment, the officer turned his head toward a small doorway just inside the alleyway. James could not see inside the door, but his assailant was obviously looking at something. His face contorted in rage and he roared, “He is mine! I claim him!”
Just as rapidly as his hand had detached from his arm, a black flash whisked across his throat and his head seemed to teeter for an instant before sliding off its base and bouncing on the officer’s shoulder as it fell to the ground. It hit with a sound like a coconut striking cement and came to rest. The headless, one handed body buckled at the knees and fell toward the doorway, but a slim hand reached from within the corridor, grabbed the body’s shirt and threw it back into the alley.
James’ heart raced. Someone just saved his life, but whom? And how had his savior so easily dispensed of his enemy? In answer to his thoughts, a thin, beautiful woman stepped into the alley. She was tall and wore a traditional dress with a red skirt reaching up to her breasts and a black jacket held by a matching black bow tied around her chest. Her hair was tied tightly in a bun at the back of her head and her face had a doll’s complexion.
“How did you do that?” James asked in awe. “I mean, thank you.”
The beautiful woman looked up from her study of the corpse and her dark eyes examined him. There was something about her eyes that ruined the first impression James had of her. They were beautiful too, but they seemed cold and hateful. In fact, this woman seemed to give off an aura that felt like honey mixed with vomit.
James pulled himself to his feet, still holding his drawn blade. The woman took a few steps toward him, her eyes fixed on his rhema.
“So young,” She said softly in a silky voice. “A pity you will likely be no challenge. Nevertheless, I will enjoy this.”
“Enjoy wha..?” James began but cut short as he saw her eyes jump from his rhema to meet his eyes and her hand moved like lightning to her side. Only because his sword was drawn was he able to bring it up fast enough to barely block the slash of a dark blade meant to cleave him in two. The force of the woman’s strike sent him stumbling backward and pain jolted through his bad hip. He was spared death at the hands of the officer only to fall into the clutches of a possessed dark servant. He did not stand a chance against her – odd that he would die a violent death at the hands of such a delicate, attractive woman. He had to at least attempt a defense, though.
The woman strode confidently toward him as he rushed to put one of the tables between them. Without taking her deep, dark eyes off his, she swung her black blade in a one-handed upper arc and the table nearly split in half. Its metal frame was sliced neatly as if by a laser and the glass center did not shatter, but split with melted edges. Liquid glass was still dripping on the ground as she brought the blade back down with both hands and completed the division of the minor obstacle. James saw this as his only chance and attempted a swing with his weapon as the woman’s blade reached the bottom of its downward thrust. Effortlessly, the woman twisted her wrists and brought her blade up again just in time to meet James’ baseball bat swing. She caught it with the edge of her sword and pulled up, redirecting the force of James’ swing in an arch over her head. As both blades cracked and sputtered with contact, she continued the arch downward, using James' power to throw his blade toward the ground and push him off balance.
For a moment, James struggled to retain his balance with his arms extended and the tip of his sword stuck into the cobblestone below. The woman, though, still had perfect control of her balance and pulled her sword away from James’. She launched it upward in a backhanded thrust that sent the pommel of her sword smashing into James’ face. He reflexively turned his head to the side, but the butt of the sword slapped against his jaw and he felt something crack. Tiny lights flickered across his eyes and his neck muscles ached. Before he could pull himself together, the woman shot both hands into his chest and pushed him back forcefully. As he staggered backward and ran into a low wall, he could see she was just getting enough distance between them to make a killing blow. He dropped his rhema at his feet and was half sitting on the edge of an elevated garden. As she moved toward him with sweeping strides, his hands groped around behind him desperately. His right hand made contact with something hard and he launched it at his attacker. As it flew toward the woman, he saw
it was a small flower pot – a futile final attempt at self-preservation. Though the aim was dead on, the woman merely flicked her blade and shattered the approaching projectile. In doing so, though, she created a cloud of dirt that shot into her face and eyes, temporarily causing her to hesitate.
James reached down to pick up his rhema and ran as fast as he could, trying to identify an exit. He took the first path visible to him at the end of the courtyard and left the open area as a roar of fury sounded behind him. Though he had adrenaline and fear pushing his body onward, the exhaustion and injuries were wearing on him and he could tell the woman was in pursuit and gaining. After a few random turns and bends, James came to the dead end he had almost been expecting. A nearly three meter wall stood before him but death was behind him. Without breaking his awkward stride, he tossed his rhema over the top and threw himself at the wall, grappling for a handhold on the top edge. He managed to catch the top of the wall, but he hung helplessly trying to pull his legs up. Just as the venomous beauty came upon him, he changed strategies and began raking his feet against the wall. Fortunately, the wall was rough enough to give him the traction he needed to make gains and he was soon convulsing his way up and over the top. The black blade cut into the wall just below his rising left foot and took half the sole off his shoe. The melted rubber burned the bottom of his foot as he uncontrollably rolled over the top of the wall and fell head first over the edge. Although he tried to right himself in the air, it was a long drop onto his extended right arm and side of his chest that brought several more of the same cracking noises.
James lay on the ground partially stunned. His breath was knocked out of him and he was dizzy with pain emanating from several parts of his battered body. As he became aware of his surroundings, he felt as if he was in a dream. An ornate yet ordered garden spread out before him with a trickling brook and flowering trees. Small lanterns of various colors and designs hung from trees and swung lazily in the light breeze. Everything seemed peaceful and perfect. Then a flicker of movement overhead jolted him out of his daze. The deadly woman had vaulted over the wall and was suspended above him, about to drop down right on top of him. Then, something very odd happened. The woman seemed to skip almost like a spliced film, and she was suddenly in the air on the far side of the large garden almost twenty meters away. Then, she dropped and disappeared on the other side of the far wall.
James stared at the wall for some time, uncertain of exactly what just happened but grateful that the murderous female was not standing above his broken body right now. Then, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention again. This time, it came from the small traditional style house to his left at the end of the garden. A figure was approaching, though it seemed to be illuminated by something that blurred the details of its form. As it glided toward him, James felt in his heart it meant no harm. In fact, he felt warm and restful and his pain even seemed to subside a degree.
“Who are you?” James croaked.
“I am this city. Protector and counselor. I am Arcturas”, it chimed like a crystal waterfall, and James felt simultaneously amazed and confused for not the first time in the last several days.
A LAMP UNTO MY FEET
....even when we are speaking together like this and we think that only two people are conversing – and may say some inappropriate things – an other unseen entity is present.
This entity, who possesses all the same observational powers and the same above-mentioned judgmental powers as humans, is invisible to our eye and yet exists here incorporeally.
-Yanagita Kunio, Shoka Kidan
“Arcturas,” James repeated. “Are you Malakin?”
“Yes,” the being confirmed, “and I am Mishrathin. But let me see to your wounds and give you some rest.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have time,” James grunted as he struggled to push himself to his feet despite the searing pain in his right side and arm. He attempted to pick up his rhema, but his grip was weak and he dropped it as his arm dangled at an awkward angle.
“Time is different here, if present at all,” the being said as it grabbed James and lifted him by his good arm. He paused and looked above James’ eyes, “You have the mark. It is amazing you have lived this long.”
“What mark?” James asked.
“The dark mark,” Arcturas explained. “Once it is placed on you, anyone allied to the Dark will see it and know that killing you will bring them reward.”
James pondered this revelation for a moment then asked, “You are looking at my forehead. Is that where the mark is?”
“Yes,” Arcturas confirmed as he waved his hand across his forehead, “but I have removed it.”
“Now that I think about it, things got a little weird after I had that dream,” James puzzled as he recalled the chase to the portal at Shangtang Gun, the men striking the bus window and the officer who started the chase that brought him to this garden. “In my dream, a snake bit me on the forehead. Do you think that could have anything to do with this?”
“Absolutely. It was not a dream, though it may have seemed like one. One very powerful in the Darkness sent a mark against you because he wanted you dead.”
“Well,” James sighed, “this would not be the first time. But why didn’t he just finish me off himself?”
Arcturas paused, “I do not know. I do not know whether it was a powerful Dark Guardian or the Dark One himself. Remember, though, even the Dark One can only be in one place at a time. If it was him, he may have had something more important at the time to attend to personally.”
“Thanks for the ego boost,” James said sarcastically, but the humor seemed to be lost on Arcturas. “But honestly, I can’t spare the time to rest here, as much as I would love to. On the request of the Intercessor of Hanasan Hold, I went to Tangsu where I met an agent who warned me of a plot to sabotage relations between Joshin and Shinla. She told me I needed to meet this certain politician and persuade him to sidetrack the plot. I am just a new servant, and I can do little, so I need to find my friend DaNyang Lomas so he can work out this mess before it’s too late.”
“Lomas is occupied now. He will not be able to help you. You must take this mission alone,” Arcturas said as he turned and began heading toward the small house.
James followed painfully and protested, “Didn’t you just see that woman fly over the garden? She nearly killed me! And she’s not the first! Even though you removed the mark, that politician isn’t going to listen to me in the first place, and even if I get his attention, there are bound to be nefarin around him. I couldn’t even match a kid with this weapon.”
Arcturas reached the porch extending from his house and stopped for a moment. “Then I will train you,” he said as if it were the obvious solution to James’ dilemma.
“I certainly appreciate the offer,” James thanked him, trying hard not to let sarcasm into his tone again, “but the lady told me I had to act on the news she gave me immediately. I don’t even have time for a single lesson.
Arcturas shook his head once then turned to go into the house. “You must listen carefully,” he chided over his shoulder. “I said time passes differently here.” He paused inside the sliding door. “Time as you know it is a string of chronological events lined up one after another with the rhythm of the clock beating out the pace at which all things must flow. If you see such time as a straight line, this place is a point located outside that line. It does not exist within the line and is therefore not subject to the rules of the line. So, you can train here until I believe you are ready. When you leave, you will find only minutes have passed outside while you spent weeks inside.”
“That’s hard to believe,” James mumbled.
“After what you have been through, nothing should be hard to believe,” Arcturas observed and disappeared into the house. “Bathe in the pool and I will bring you food and clothes,” he called from within.
James failed to see the good it would do to just wash himself off in the little pond n
earby without soap or towels, but he waded in out of respect for Arcturas’ request. To his surprise, the water felt wonderful. As he sat soaking in the clear pool, the aches and pains in his body seemed to wash off along with the dirt and sweat. When he stepped out of the pool, not only did he feel thoroughly cleansed, but his pain was gone. The gash in his hip even disappeared.
“That water is amazing,” James commented as he pulled on the loose traditional clothes Arcturas brought. “I think it healed me.”
“It is not the water, but this place and my presence here,” Arcturas clarified. “I have prepared a simple meal for you,” he said as he motioned toward a low table set on the porch. There was a big bowl of steaming white liquid in the center of the table.
James settled down to eat and cautiously tasted a spoonful of the thick, pasty meal. “It’s very good,” he complimented honestly. “What is it?”
“It is Jook Jat,” Arcturas explained. “It is a mixture of boiled rice and crushed pine nuts. It will restore your vitality and help you sleep.”
“I don’t think I will need much help sleeping,“ James said with a smile. He could feel his lack of sleep hanging over him like a fuzzy heat.
James didn’t speak again until he was near the bottom of the bowl and a thought struck him. “Why don’t people notice these battles going on around them?” he questioned. “I mean, it seems like with all this fighting and activity between the Light and Dark that people would notice it and start growing curious.”
“A good question,” Arcturas observed as he strolled around the garden nearby. “Do you remember seeing these things before you became a servant?”