by Lance Wilson
At these words Takada’s eyes get a bit larger, he has never heard the blade master describe anyone like this. A master of the blade, if Fuma were to truly control him, he would be unstoppable. Deep in his heart he knows he should break that bond but he knows he won’t. If Attonnan chooses to go back to his lord he will not stop him, his oath he gave himself was that he would never carve another’s path, only show them that there are many paths to take.
“Yes a master of the blade, but not a master of the self. He is a puppet, a pet; until that collar is broken he cannot bring himself to the fullest of his potentials. This of course will not be so easily obtained; I can only guess that he has many lessons to learn, and many ways to learn them. But break the collar and you shall see the truth of the blade.” the blade master says and smiles at Takada.
“I swore never to carve a path for a man.” Takada says with a sigh.
“I understand, I am not saying that you have to carve his path. Only break the collar so that he can choose his own path. I know what you fear, if you break the collar and unleash the blade, that he might still move for Fuma” the blade master says once again turning his back to Takada to look at a vary finally made long sword.
“I do not wish to keep him collared, but it is best to have a dulled blade against us then a sharpened one, do you not agree” Takada says calmly
“I admit I know nothing of politics, battle plans, lordships, or carving countries futures. All I know is swordsmanship and fighting, to see a blade such as Attonnan dulled, it pains me. If it were I, I would break that collar, no matter the result. Perhaps this is why I am not a leader.” The blade master says with a chuckle.
“You have studied warfare and almost everything about it, you know those markings on him are from the Dagoth clan from long ago. Can you tell me what they represent?” Takada says smiling at him
“Indeed, I’m sure Kenshi has looked into it, he will not find the markings in his book, they are not the markings of a warrior. Those markings are of a slave, Fuma marked him well, though I’m a bit shocked that it has not dampened his skill or focus” the blade master says still studding the blade.
“There is something you are not telling me, something you see” Takada says taking a deep breath, he is not sure if he wants to know.
“Your right there is something more, but it is something I have yet to put my finger on. So there is no need to bring it up yet.” The blade master says turning to Takada once more.
“Is Omashu in danger” he asks calmly
“That I cannot tell you, only Attonnan can tell you,” the blade master says with a smile.
“I thank you, though you told me a great many things, you have solved nothing” Takada says with a laugh
“Such is the nature of things” he says and with a wave of his hand he watches as Takada walks out of the room.
Takada was right, there is more, much more to Attonnan. When he fought he was something more, a ghost a phantom that couldn’t be touched. At first he thought is was the touch of the Dagoth, but no, the Dagoth were about war and rage. This was different, it was calmness, and like the battle was already won and he merely had to move though the motions. If Attonnan could only master the self he is sure that there is no one that walks the elflands that could match him.
Takada only walks though the halls tell soon he come to Kenshi who is in the middle of a small ring, also in it is a few younger men. Kenshi walks around them shouting orders; he is instructing, part of his job. Takada walks up from behind and clears his throat so that Kenshi knows he is there. Kenshi quickly spins around and seeing his master he puts his right fist over his chest.
“My general. Do you wish to inspect your army” Kenshi says calmly
He knows why Kenshi is here. Since the defeat at the hands of Attonnan, Kenshi is determined to make his soldiers stronger and fiercer. So that he will not ever see them defeated again.
“Tell me, where is your charge” Takada asks knowing that the last time he spoke to Kenshi he told him that Attonnan was his duty and no one else’s. He did this for a reason.
“He is with the blade master, I would not worry” Kenshi says with a smile
“Odd, I just came from the blade master, he was not there. The blade master dismissed him some time ago” Takada says and watches with pleasure as Kenshi’s eyes grow huge and his face is stricken with panic.
“I shall scower the city immediately, I assure you he will not escape.” Kenshi says and lifts his hand to summon guards.
“No need, I have met with Attonnan, he has given me his word of honor that he will not leave the city” Takada says and smiles as he watches Kenshi drop to one knee, his head looking only at the ground, his fist over his chest.
“Forgive me master, I failed you. You gave me a duty and I failed to carry it out. I will admit, it was for a selfish reason. I dislike this Attonnan, he has the stink of Fuma all over him” Kenshi says his voice soft and submissive.
“I know you think you hate him for Fuma, but I assure you, I have seen the way you look at him. You hate him cause it was not so long ago that you were him. He reminds you of what you were, and seeing that enrages you” Takada says laying his hand on Kenshi’s shoulder.
“I… . yes master. He is a reminder of the years I too spent with Fuma. It is not a time I like to be reminded of. I am a man now, strong and powerful, I would not so easily bend to the demon king’s wishes now” Kenshi says his words with an edge of hate in them.
Yes he is grown, yes he is strong, but is he that strong. Fuma has a gift in seeing what a man needs and how to bend them to his will. Takada would like to think that Fuma would not be able to touch his young apprentice now, but Fuma was a father to him, it put to the test he is sure that Kenshi’s blade would hesitate.
“That is why I gave him to you. You and he are not so different. He is at a difficult part in his path, I would like you to walk it with him, having to have walked it alone yourself I thought that you would understand” Takada says and watches as Kenshi raises back to his feet.
“I… . I don’t know if I can, seeing him, being around him. The way he talks” Kenshi says but is silenced as Takada holds his hand up.
“I understand, I only ask that you try, go on back to your men” Takada says and begins to walk away.
“Master, thank you” Kenshi says softly, his head hung low.
He knows exactly what that thank you is about. Not for the forgiveness just now, but for bringing him out of the darkness that Fuma through him in. he was no more then a mindless drone of Fuma’s
Attonnan slowly walks though the streets of Omashu, he is shocked to see that it is nothing like the lair of the Hojo clan. The people that walk the streets are in simple clothing and some look to be barely making a living. There are guard’s around but he can also see that men of gangs and clans walk the streets as well, even the guard’s do not look these men in the eyes. Attonnan wonders why the Takada army does nothing about this, however, Omashu is not there city and they may not have the power. What does he care; this is not his city either, besides soon enough they too will be conquered by the great Fuma. He makes his way though the city everyone making way for him. He soon finds himself at a blacksmith, from the look of it he is not a great quality smith but probably the best you will find in a place like this.
“I seek a sword.” Attonnan says in a cold and emotionless voice.
The blacksmith, a young man, who’s back was turned quickly spins around and smiles at the sight of Attonnan. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and gestures to the blades hanging up and on the counter.
“I have quite the selection as you can see, is there anything in particular you’re looking for, a style perhaps.” the smith says and keeps his friendly manor.
“I am skilled in many things, but I prefer something of an eastern nature” Attonnan say
s looking over the blades, he can already tell that he will have nothing that he wants.
“Well I have to say, I don’t have much in the way of that, those that buy my blades prefer something more intimidating. Let me see what I have” he says and starts rummaging though a few blades piled up in a corner.
“I can see you have nothing of my liking, you’re wasting my time” Attonnan says calmly and begins to leave.
“Wait sir, I do have something, won’t you at least look at it.” He says quickly as Attonnan turns his back.
“Vary well but it better be good” Attonnan says turning back around.
He watches as the young man then opens a trunk and pulls out a blade in its sheath. From the look of the sheath the blade is wider then he is used to, but he know how to wield such a blade, the handle is curved slightly opposite of the curve of the blade, just like his own blade. The handle is a rich cherry wood capped in silver. Vines and leaves are inlayed in the handle in silver and gold. But it is unwrapped. On the caps of the blade are two pieces of what looks like silk, one white, one red. The hilt is round and plain. The sheath is cherry wood as well with vines and leaves inlayed in silver, it too is capped in silver.
“Please sir, try them out.” The smith says calmly and steps back.
“Them” Attonnan repeats cocking his head, but the smith says nothing
Attonnan slowly pulls the blade out, once fully free of the sheath he feels the handle split in too. He is shocked at what he sees now. It is a rare eastern blade, a twin blade, two blades made from one. He places one in each of his hands and begins to practice, he has been taught with these as well but never given one. The trick to these is to forget that they are two blades, they aren’t, they are one blade and should be wielded as one. The blades are solid and flawless, they move through the air as if they are part of it. This cannot be the work of this smith. He only practices for a few seconds then sheaths the blades.
“These are not your work” Attonnan says, his voice calmer now, softer.
“I am sorry to say that they aren’t. I bought them hoping I could duplicate that kind of skill, I cannot. A man must know his limits. Would you like them?” He says hoping to make a sale.
“Indeed, how much” Attonnan says reaching into his shirt and finding that he is still lucky enough to have his pouch of gold
“75 gold, that’s what I paid” he says brightening up.
With a growl Attonnan slowly pulls out his pouch, that is all he has, he was hoping the man wouldn’t know the real worth of these blades, however he is still getting a bargain, no self respecting smith would ask anything less then double what this man is asking.
“That is 75, count it if you want.” Attonnan says and straps the blade to his belt.
Just as the pouch hits the table he sees a huge hand snatch it up.
“Thank you, we shall take this, the guard thanks you for your support” a deep rough voice says calmly.
Attonnan looks hard at the man, he is huge, at least a head and half taller then him and twice as broad. The man has no hair on the top of his hair but has a thick black beard that he pulls into a kind of tail in the middle. When the man smiles he shows that he has jagged broken yellow teeth. There are scars across his face and his left eye is milky white. He is dressed in a green and gold vest with green pants, light brown boots and brown leather bracers. Across his shoulders is a baldric holding a huge sword and hooked to his belt by the handle is a good size double bit axe. The smith takes several steps back and then goes back to work, but Attonnan only glares at the man, his eyes focused like a hawk.
“That money wasn’t for you, give it back” Attonnan says his voice soft, almost nothing more then a whisper.
“I am general Travicks, I control the guard here, now walk away, you have your blade, and don’t even think of testing it’s steel on me” the man says as the guard’s around him laugh.
“I don’t need a blade for one such as you” Attonnan says with a sick cunning smile.
And just like that he strikes. It is a move that he has learned from the ebony hand. Something powerful and precise. Attonnan slams his hand into the mans lower chest, right were the rips start to part. But that is only half of it, when he strikes he doesn’t form a fist, instead he makes his two middle fingers point straight up making them pierce through the skin, making it simple to push his whole hand into the man. Once inside Attonnan quickly grips the man heart and leans into the man.
“Can you feel it, can you feel the touch death already has on you. I can feel every beat of your heart, I have your vary life in my hand” Attonnan says and the guard’s all take a step back as there general grows pale and a small pool of blood begins to form at his feet
Attonnan smiles and begins to gently squeeze the heart, he will kill this man, but slowly, he wants the man to regret ever looking at him, ever knowing he existed. Weakness over takes the general quickly and he drops to his knees, but Attonnan keeps his grip, his eyes never leaving the general. He has killed many men, some quick, some slow, and it never ceases to excite him in watching that spark go out in their eyes. The other guard’s quickly run off shouting in fear, he is sure that he will hear more about this, let them come, he has twin blades and the taste for blood once again. He could conquer Omashu alone if he wanted to, now that he is already inside. Like a vice his hand continues to squeeze on the heart, he can feel the beating become strained, it grows slower and slower until, until it stops and just like that the man’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls to the ground on his side, Attonnan’s hand sliding easily out as he falls, it now soaked in blood up to his elbow. Attonnan then reaches down and takes his pouch back and lays it back on the counter.
“I don’t want this, I want nothing to do with this, or you” the smith says scared out of his wits.
Attonnan only shakes his head, no matter. He only walks back to the main palace, he is sure that is where the others will come for him, besides he now has what he came for, a blade. Now that he has his blade, it is time to master it. Though he doesn’t like the idea the one in the dojo was a blade master and if he is to become the same it is best to start the lessons now. Attonnan makes his way though the streets, after seeing what he had done to the gaud many give him a wide berth as he passes, those that are already near there homes shut the doors and the windows. Attonnan only smiles as he watches all this happen, they should fear he, he is Attonnan personal apprentice the demon lord Fuma himself. Attonnan doesn’t delay however much he might want to; no he goes right to the palace. The guard’s to not act as the people in the street do, they merely look at him with disinterest, and they feel nothing for him or about him. No matter, the palace will see his skill soon enough. Attonnan ignores all this and makes his way to the dojo; he must speak with the blade master. As soon as he enters the room he hears the blade master laugh, he looks over and sees that the mans back is still to him.
“I was wondering when you would be coming back.” The blade master says with a simple but sadistic voice
Attonnan spares not time and walks up tell he is about four feet from him. Then calmly he drops to one knee and lowers his left arm to the ground and the right fist over his chest.
“I ask with all humility that you please take me under your wing and teach me how to be a true blade master” Attonnan says keeping his eyes to the ground.
“Yes well that could be done, but you will have to speak to others before we reach the blade, you must first master the self, and this is something I cannot teach. That is something you must learn on your own, but I am sure there is help someone in this palace.” the blade master says and lays his hand on Attonnan’s shoulder.
“Then you cannot teach me how to master the blade. You said there are others that would be able to help me master my self. Who are they and how can I get in touch with them. Please tell me master” Attonnan says wondering what to do nex
t.
“This I cannot tell you, I can give you a bit of help on finding the self. It is called meditation. If you would like, I shall guide you down those steps, but that is as far down your path that I can go” The blade master says and smiles at him. He is indeed an odd student.
Just moments ago he was so strong and unyielding, now he comes before him, soft and shy like a child lost in the dark. He is not sure what to make of all this.
“I would like that, please show me” Attonnan says staying in the kneeling position.
“I see you have collected yourself a blade, let us see if we cannot travel that path with this one. First sit” the blade master says and sits cross-legged in front of Attonnan facing him.
Attonnan calmly takes a deep breath and sits the same as the blade master, facing him; both stare deep into one another’s eyes.
“Unsheathe your blades, lay them on your lap however you find comfortable” The blade master says smiling.
Attonnan unsheathes the blades and calmly lays them on his lap, a handle on each side crossing each other with the tip of the blades near his knees. He then lays his hands in the middle of his lap, almost in the middle of the blades themselves.
“Good, now close your eyes and breathe slowly” The blade master says and begins to do the same
Attonnan closes his eyes and begin to breath slowly through his nose. A calm stillness seems to come over him.
“Yes, perfect, now let everything wash over you, and out of you. Become empty and calm, let it all go, everything you think you know, let it go” the blade master says knowing that this will only quicken the idea of him being rid of the collar that is called Fuma. Attonnan taking slow deep breaths begins to do as he has been told. Almost at an instant his mind is filled with thoughts. Thoughts of his master Fuma, thoughts of what he is doing listening to the enemy, thoughts of betrayal, and thoughts of his family. So many thoughts at once he can’t even begin to sort them out and help them flow out of his body. Then, then he hears a sound, it is not the first time he has heard it. It is a whisper, almost like the wind. He remembers the last time he heard it, it was after the ebony hand blinded him, and everyday that he was blind he heard it. Concentrating only on the whisper everything else seems to fade into nothing more then a background muffle. Attonnan keeps his breath slow and calm and continue to focus on the voice, it is soft, seductive, hearing it reminds him of the sweet caress of a gentle summer wind. Hearing it, even as a whisper seems to bring him at peace. Forgetting about the voice itself and loosing himself only in the embrace of the emotions he feels the voice itself grow louder, still only a whisper if talks to him, but now, now he can finally understand it.