by Paul Kidd
Sura and Chiri looked to one another. They both arose, and quietly walked over to the little shrine.
The building was small and rough, but touchingly beautiful. A thatched roof covered a floor that had been cut and beautifully polished by a caring hand. Chiri and Sura waited quietly, kneeling at the threshold.
The old priestess finished her prayers. She had noted her two rather astonishing visitors. The woman turned, and all three bowed solemnly to one another.
The fox was quiet and reverent – aware that this was a place of mourning.
“Please excuse us, priestess. We did not mean to disturb your devotions.”
The old priestess waved a hand.
“You are not disturbing me, young ladies.” The woman rose painfully to her feet. She moved towards the path. “Forgive me, but the cold is hard on these old bones. I must go.”
Sura rose with her. She moved to prevent the priestess from making a swift escape, instead offering to help her down the steps.
“Tell me, elder. What is this shrine? It must be to something very special.”
“It is to a memory I choose to keep alive.”
The old priestess began to move away. Sura stood, looking at the flowers that had been left upon the altar.
Beside the flower vase, there was a woman’s hair comb, carved with patterns of pine boughs. Sura did not turn around.
“Who was she?”
The old priestess stopped. She leaned forward, shoulders bowed, looking worn and tired. Finally, she turned away to gaze towards the mountain.
“She was a student of mine. Mirusu. A good girl. A shugenja.” The old woman gave a slow, sad sigh. “A good girl. She truly was. But innocent. She loved too passionately, and too deeply.”
Chiri came forward – pale and beautiful. The rat spirit stared at the priestess, feeling strange and lost.
“Forgive me, priestess. But how is it possible to love too deeply?”
“Love can destroy, young lady, just as easily as it can create.”
The old woman turned – her breath misting in the cold. She had eyes only for the silent forest and the stark expanse of snow.
“She was beautiful, and she was innocent. It never occurred to her that her lover might be false. When she discovered how he had been using her, she fled out into the mountains to die.” The old woman turned away. “A good girl. Truly gentle. I sacrifice and pray here in the hope of keeping that goodness somehow alive.”
The old woman looked slightly back – bowed – and moved on along the path towards a little house off in the woods, leaving her visitors behind.
Chiri and Sura felt chilled, and somehow diminished – oppressed by the great, silent mountain peak above. They both turned and stared at the little shrine. It seemed forlorn and alone out here amongst the rows of staring statues, and the great, dark trees.
The two friends bowed to the shrine and moved away. Bifuuko and Daitanishi slipped quietly into Chiri’s sleeves. They skirted around the graveyard, found a path that led about the outskirts of the village, and headed thoughtfully back towards the inn.
Tonbo came out onto the inn’s front porch – out through the door of his private room. Dressed in his padded coat, tetsubo in his arms, he took a deep breath of the cold air, and looked out across the snowy landscape.
He sat down to put on his straw boots, stamped them into place, then hauled himself up onto his feet. He walked to the edge of the porch, enjoying the sight of the pine trees jutting up out of pure white snow.
A trail of footprints marred the snow – leading off from the porch close to Kuno’s room, heading into the forest. A second line of footprints came out from the trees at a more distant point, linking back to the porch almost where Tonbo now sat. The big man frowned and looked over towards Kuno’s room.
Kuno’s door slid open. He was sitting in the doorway, yawning. A tray with an uneaten breakfast sat in the shadows beside him. Kuno nodded a fond bow to Tonbo, holding back another yawn.
“Good morning Tonbo san.”
“Good afternoon, Kuno san.” Tonbo bowed, then raised his brows. “You seem unduly tired.”
Kuno rubbed at his neck and gave a sigh.
“It is almost as though I have not slept! I must be more fatigued than I had thought.” He winced and stretched himself. “This holiday is a splendid notion.”
Kuno rose, threading his swords through his belt. He came out onto the porch and saw the footprints heading off into the snow.
“I see Sura san has already flitted to the springs. She will turn into a fish if she is not careful.”
Tonbo turned to look at the tracks and gave a frown. The trail decidedly went nowhere near the springs. If anything, they seemed to head off towards the main slopes of the mountain. Tonbo knelt and inspected a footprint, leaning down to check the shape of the mark.
Chiri’s feet were quite narrow, and Sura’s boots had a distinctive cross hatching on the soles – a trick learned on Kitsune Mountain, where the ice could be quite slippery: Tonbo’s boot was just the same.
“These are not Sura’s tracks. Nor Chiri’s….”
Kuno cast an idle eye across the tracks.
“Domei must have fetched hot water for the tea. The hot springs must be very convenient for an inn keeper!”
Kuno reached for his own boots, tying them firmly about his shins.
“Well – Sura and Chiri are off and about somewhere. I see their boots have gone.” Kuno stood and stamped his boots firmly into place. “I believe I shall take a long walk and explore the surrounds.”
Tonbo gave a nod.
“I shall come with you.”
“No no! Forgive me, but I need to clear my head.” Kuno made his way down into the snow. “I shall not be long.”
Kuno smoothed his moustache, settled his swords, then headed off along the road. Tonbo watched him go, shook his head, and carefully squatted down beside the line of tracks.
The tracks seemed to head towards the mountain peak. The snowfall had ceased sometime at the hour of the rat. So these had been made sometime after that. Tonbo stood and pondered, then turned to walk around the edge of the inn towards the steaming baths.
Chiri and Sura were walking up the road from the village – both frowning in thought. Well and truly frozen, they both hugged themselves as they tramped forward through the snow.
They came up to Tonbo, and Chiri gave a little bow.
“Tonbo san – good afternoon.” The rat was chilled to the bone. “It is cold. Is there any tea?”
Tonbo scratched at his stubbled chin. “The inn mistress is in the kitchens somewhere. I suppose we can ask.”
Sura hopped up and down, trying to keep herself warm, hugging her arms across her breasts. The temperature had taken a decided plunge.
“Holy bouncing Buddha! The girls are in full salute here! I could cut sushi with these things!” She jounced inside her padded fur coat. “Let’s go sit by the springs. I’ll boil us some eggs and dumplings.” She saw Tonbo’s reluctance. “I’ll get some from the kitchens! I won’t make them myself.”
The fox moved closer, looking make certain they were not overheard.
“Come. And bring your tetsubo.”
Sura made her way into the kitchens, seeing no sign of the innkeeper or her sullen son. Thankfully some raw eggs and a great pile of different dumplings sat on a bench, as well as bottles of buckwheat wine. Still frozen to the bone, Sura quickly liberated the food and hastened off towards the springs.
Chiri and the elementals joined her on the path. They moved swiftly down through the rocks, gratefully feeling the heat climb as they came at last to the springs themselves. Monkeys looked idly over from their lordly place in nearby rock pools, stirring themselves to see if any treats might be on the way.
The elementals warmed themselves in the steam while Sura and Chiri crowded close to the springs. They opened their coats to the heat, took off their boots to plant their feet upon the warm rocks, and set the bottles of wine in
the water to warm through.
By the time Tonbo arrived, they were feeling somewhat more thawed. Sura had arrayed a dozen dumplings and several eggs in the boiling water. Chiri was pouring the wine, mixing in a dash of honey. She offered up a cup to Tonbo as he arrived.
Tonbo sat, looking troubled. He flicked a glance off towards the mountain.
“Kuno has not returned. Should we search for him?”
Sura looked up. “Where did he say he was going?”
“Just a stroll to clear his head. He went to the main road.”
Sura shrugged. “He should be alright. But Chiri and I have had the spookiest morning walk…”
They drank the buckwheat wine – an excellent homebrew, and a much-needed thawing agent. She took the bottle and refilled Tonbo’s cup.
“This is the strangest village. The place is in a serious decline. Half the buildings are just lying empty.”
Tonbo stroked at his chin. “The village must have fallen on hard times.”
Chiri rescued the eggs and dumplings before they overcooked, juggling them quickly out onto the rocks. “Excuse me, Tonbo san - but a spa village should be an easy place to make a living.” She blew upon her scorched fingers. “Is it because the mountains are impassable in winter? But surely they would still have enough custom in summer to get by?”
Sura scowled.
“There is something strange about the village – but I cannot quite put my finger on it.”
Tonbo nodded, then looked up towards the inn.
“Hmph. We could ask the inn mistress.”
“She doesn’t strike me as being willing to talk.” Sura frowned. “There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically alarming. Just something... wrong.”
Chiri quietly shared out the dumplings. She gave a frustrated little sigh.
“I am confused. Is there something sinister here, or are we merely too used to being suspicious?”
Sura placed a regal hand against her heart. “We are not suspicious. We are professional busy bodies. There’s a difference.”
The three friends pondered, ate eggs, and drank their buckwheat wine. The winds were definitely increasing, tossing the tops of the pine trees. It felt like snow was about to fall again. Chiri, Tonbo and Sura all looked up towards the sky.
Tonbo watched the slow, thick passage of the clouds.
“Another snow storm. Heavier. It will reach the valley.”
Sura heaved a sigh. “Well, we’re in the right place. Not much we can do in a snowstorm.” She looked off towards the baths in sudden interest. “Hey – want to sit in the hot baths and be snowed on? We can sit there and wait for Kuno.”
Chiri gave a nod.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Sura arose, taking the remaining food and wine wrapped up inside a towel.
“Tonbo – join us. Let’s stick in the same pool for a while” She tucked her spear beneath her arm. “We’ll fill you in on the local weird graveyard.”
They headed towards the baths. Wind shuddered through the trees on the slopes high above the little valley. Chiri turned a worried glance towards the road.
“I hope Kuno san returns swiftly. The storm seems to be fast approaching.”
Sura frowned, shrugged, and decided not to worry.
“Eh – he should be fine. He might be a samurai, but he does at least know enough to come in out of the rain.”
They headed off towards the baths as the first specks of snow began to fall.
Out beyond the village road, a steep ridge rose up towards the mountain peak. Kuno tramped his way up through deep, loose snow, breath puffing bright. The snow crunched underfoot with every step. He reached the summit and turned to look back across the mountain pass.
The village lay in its dell below, with mists rising from the springs. The rooves were covered in pure white caps of snow. It seemed quiet – almost haunted. The steam rising from the streams drifted in slow, thick currents through the pines.
Kuno moved forward, and looked in the opposite direction, off towards the mountain heights.
A strange blue-white plain spread out before him. There were ridges of what might have been stone, or even shattered ice gleaming and mysterious. Above it all soared the main mountain peak, with a glacier shimmering a gorgeous azure blue.
The black clouds were somehow lit by the sun above, bringing a glow to the mountain ice. Snow had begun to fall – drifting gently, sparking here and there in the filtered light. Kuno gazed out over the splendour, and felt the muse stir within his heart.
He stood tall and magnificent, drew in a deep breath, and declaimed a poem out into the ice.
“In silent beauty
Looming high in pristine cold.
Stark perfection shines…”
The poem was good. It was very good! Rather pleased, Kuno looked happily about – but there was no one around to overhear. Kuno shrugged, then brightened. He would keep the poem safely in his mind: Kitsune Sura could be backed into a corner and forced to listen once he came back to the inn. Quite pleased with the thought, Kuno walked towards a dramatically broken pine nearby, aiming to descend back towards the inn.
And then he heard the faint, soft notes of flute music drifting in the wind.
The notes were haunting – lonely but impossibly beautiful. Kuno turned, utterly fascinated. He quested forward, a prickle of strange emotion shivering across his skin.
The music ebbed and faded in the breeze. The samurai listened, then moved forward towards the peak. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere out upon the ice.
Quite bewitched by the pure, soft beauty of the music, Kuno walked down from the ridge and out into the snowfields beyond. He stopped for a moment as the music faded, questing carefully. To his great joy, he finally caught the thread of sound, and followed it doggedly onward, off across the snow.
A figure slowly rose from the shadow of the pines. A starkly beautiful young woman clothed in suikan robes of icy blue and white, she was crowned with a circlet of silver upon her pure blue-white hair. She watched the handsome samurai with eyes that glittered bright with hatred and disgust.
She looked to the clouds and moved swiftly, linking fingers in a series of mudra, then flinging her hands up towards the clouds. She drew down, and power seemed to surge. The clouds thickened, turning to an angry, brooding black. Snowflakes began to fall.
The light vanished. Kuno seemed somehow oblivious to the snowfall and the cold. He walked onwards – away from the safety of the village and the inn.
The young woman watched the figure out on the snowfield for a moment, then drew back into the shadows.
Where her hand had rested against the bark of a pine, she left a clear handprint etched in stark new ice….
Clouds of frost hung in Kuno’s breath. Freezing cold but entranced by the faint sound of music, he walked through the deepening snow. The skies were black, and snowflakes drifted thickly through the air. The samurai walked onwards, heading towards an outcrop of boulders just ahead.
He walked into a place that seemed to have been torn out of a dream.
A great, flat sheet of ice spread out before him, the hard surface skinned clean of snow by the swirling wind. The ice had the same blue glow as the vast glacier that loomed above.
A young woman sat at the far edge of the ice, framed by drifting snowflakes. She was elegant, wan and beautiful – as pale as the snow behind her. She was dressed in robes of blue and white, with long black hair hanging unbound behind her. A circlet of silver glittered at her brow.
The woman played a flute that seemed to be made of ice. She played with a sad, effortless skill, and the music seemed to hang like crystals in the frozen air.
She made the music weep, and her whole being seemed to wilt with endless grief. A single snow-flower glimmered in the ice beside her – stark, perfect and alone.
Her sadness struck a blow clean into Kuno’s heart. Drawn by the haunting music,
Kuno walked towards her, ste
pping out onto the ice. He came forward, pace by pace, looking at the woman in breathless awe.
He had come too far. Ice creaked beneath his feet. The sound was suddenly, shockingly loud in the eerie calm.
The maiden whipped her face up to stare at Kuno in terror. She stared only for an instant, her eyes going wide. The maiden wept and backed away, hiding her face behind long sleeves. Suddenly she turned and fled off into the gloom.
“Wait! Please wait!”
Appalled at having frightened her, Kuno raced forward.
Ice cracked under his feet. Suddenly the surface shattered beneath him. Kuno plunged down into freezing cold water, sinking far past his head. He thrashed to the surface in shock, blundering awkwardly towards the edge of the ice sheet. His hands scrabbled for purchase on the cracking, splintering ice.
The snowfall almost blinded him. He tried to heave himself out of the water, but the edge of the ice sheet cracked, sending him spilling back into the freezing slush.
Suddenly there was a weird ripple through the ice sheet. The ice thickened, creaking as it hardened. Kuno clung half in, half out of the water, his hands numb and his whole body stiff with shock.
He managed to seize hold of his short sword. He slammed the blade blindly down in front of him, burying the blade deep into the ice. He hauled himself slowly up and out of the water, dragging himself forward, to collapse in shock onto the ice sheet.
Frozen and dazed, Kuno tried to rise onto his feet. His legs were numb, and he could feel nothing in his hands. He fell forwards, crashing wetly down onto the ice, rolling over to stare up into the weird black sky.
His sight faded, and the entire world went black.
After a while, there was a strange sense of motion. Kuno swam half back to his senses, feeling a sudden sharp, hard burn upon his forearms. He felt himself being dragged backwards across the snow. He tried to move, but his vision swam, and he could only lie and feel the darkness crushing in upon his mind.
He finally felt a strange, painful sensation against his face. Kuno surged slowly back to consciousness, pins and needles raging in his left hand. He weakly flexed his fingers, and sensed heat somewhere beside him, blazing like a fire.