Seung yelped and fell backward, bouncing on her backside. When Kenyatta began to pull himself out, she raked her hand through water, blasting him in the face.
“Ah! You little …”
She laughed aloud as he slipped back into the water, then screamed and hopped away when he grabbed the rock and launched himself out. He chased her around the pond, hopping from rock to rock until they finally came back to dry land.
“No,” she pleaded, hands up in surrender, “okay, I stop now!” Kenyatta stared at her a moment, then flicked water off his fingers in her face. She wrinkled her nose and shoved him away, wiping her eyes.
“I guess we can call it even,” he said. “Even though I should be dunking you in der.” He nodded at the water to the side.
“Even?” She frowned. “What do you mean, even?”
“More slang,” Kenyatta said. “The western tongue has a lot of slang. I mean to say, you sprayed me with water and I got you, too.”
Seung thought a moment, then nodded, finally catching his meaning. “I understand you. Look.” She pointed at the cloudy sky where several rays of sunlight penetrated the puffy white ceiling. “So beautiful. I love!” Kenyatta stole a glance at the woman as she stared up at the sky. Only several days ago they fought and killed together, now she stared at the sky with childish wonder. He’d never met a person who radiated such love for nature. It was captivating.
“This place called Eiliki. It mean serenity in a language from the Old Age. I have train since I was old enough to walk, and fighting since I was ten years old. I was youngest in my group, but able to keep up and sometimes, do better than some of my older classmate.
“My parents bring me here to help calm my mind after so much fighting. I don’t know how I survive if not for them. They watched over me and make sure that I was not sickened by fighting at my age.”
“You mean the death and suffering,” Kenyatta added in a gentle voice.
Seung nodded. “I helped to keep the village safe; they kept this safe.” The young woman tapped a finger on the side of her head.
For a while they stood in silence, basking in the tranquility of Seung’s favorite place. She moved closer to Kenyatta, and her hand brushed against his. Smiling, he took her hand, and she inspected it while he enjoyed her soft touch.
“You and your friend have seen many battle together, but your hands are soft and smooth for a man.” He smiled and then reversed the hold, now her hand in his.
“My family makes a special kind of oil that we put on our skin, ya know. It’s made from a nut in Jamaica and it help keep the skin tough but smooth, and helps to heal scars.”
Kenyatta gave her palm a squeeze. “How do you keep your hands so soft, little lady? I’m sure you get a few scars here and der in a fight or two.”
Seung smiled and pushed up against him playfully. “A similar thing, I am sure. We have special oil for same purpose.” She smirked. “I don’t have to use them much though.”
“Why is that?”
“Because my hands fast enough not to get hit.”
The islander arched an eyebrow. “Good answer.”
* * *
Among other things, Kenyatta most admired this woman’s balance. They had lead similar lives, yet she retained an innocence that was long dead in the islander. The harshness of life had hardened the young warrior, and though his lighthearted and joking nature kept him in generally good spirits, Seung seemed to be able to let the past slide off her back. He wondered if it was a conscious decision she made every day or if it was a part of her nature.
Seung grinned at him. “You look like you going to say that you wish you do not have to leave?”
Kenyatta lips compressed. Indeed, that was almost exactly what he was going to say.
Seung laughed, recognizing the surprised, calculating look, and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. She then rose to her tiptoes and whispered into his ear. “Nintali. It means destiny in the Old Tongue.” That melodious voice filled his ears. When she spoke the western tongue, or her native language to her people, her voice carried a musical sound that was both beautiful and otherworldly. When she spoke these words that she called the Old Tongue, it sounded as though she sang the words. “Concentrate on the fight ahead, Keyatta. Maybe we meet again.”
A few hours later the village held a gathering for the two friends, and soon after, they were on the road heading for the coast. Seung and Kim watched until the two warriors were out of sight, leaving a trail of dust in their wake.
“We will see them again,” Kim said, noting the empty solemn expression on his childhood friend’s face. Now that the foreigners were gone, they could speak more easily in their native tongue. “I believe fate brought them here, and I don’t believe our meeting was just in passing. They will return, or we may find them one day.”
Seung said nothing. She moved close to Kim and put her arm around his waist, hugging him sideways while she stared into the scenery before them. Kim held her with one arm as an older brother would hold his younger sister, and looked down at her with a sigh. He could not think of much to say to comfort her, so they stood for a time, watching the scenery before them and listening to the silence. Life was a strange thing. Predictably unpredictable.
***
Chapter Fourteen
Kenjiro and Akemi made their way into the valley and passed through the wooded hills that marked their final descent to the bottom. They moved swiftly and silently through the trees, stopping occasionally to listen for sounds of any threat, or pursuit. Nothing seemed amiss from the surface of things, but when Kenjiro looked at his sister’s expression, he saw that she wanted to put this valley behind her as quickly as he did.
Kenjiro scanned their surroundings. The bowl-shaped valley held no tactical advantage, no retreat, and no way for the warriors to elude a large airborne enemy, such as the animal from which the valley was given its namesake. Kenjiro silently berated himself for even considering the existence of such a creature, but the things they’d seen in the world made it difficult to deny the possibility.
Akemi sensed her brother’s concerns and kept a wary eye on their surroundings. Sunja trees, a new species that lived only in hot and desolate environments, grew in leaning patches of two and three across the cracked and sandy ground, their leafless branches reaching toward the scorching sun like the fingers of a demon clawing its way out of the abyss. Groups of shrubs dotted the landscape as well, but otherwise, not much else lived there. Strangely enough, however, it was an exotic-looking glen, desert-like, yet quite peaceful in a way she couldn’t place.
They saw an area nearby at the southern edge of the valley that looked like it could have been a dried up lake. They nodded to one another, each guessing the other’s thoughts. They would start from inside that lake, below ground level and out of view. Kenjiro started to move, but Akemi held her hand up. She pointed to a deep trench on the far left that stretched almost the length of the valley and would leave them with less than a quarter mile to travel in the open. Kenjiro looked at the path and nodded. They looked at each other, took a deep breath, and moved on.
* * *
Back on the road again, Kita and Kenyatta enjoyed the rushing of the wind and the multicolored blur of vegetation that raced past on either side. After hours of riding, the air was beginning to cool, and they slowed their mounts to a trot so that all could enjoy the soothing breeze. “We’re close to the beach,” Kenyatta said.
“Yeah,” Kita agreed. “Just beyond that thick patch of forest.”
Kenyatta eyed the woods before them. “We should let the horses go. We can travel on foot from here.”
Kita noted the change in his friend’s tone as they dismounted and turned the horses in the direction they had come from. With a pat on the neck and a slap on the rump, they sent the animals on their way.
Once the horses were out of sight, the two friends turned and faced the wall of forest that stood between them and the coast.
Kenyatta scratched
his head. “We could go around and take an extra half day of travel. I don’t tink I would feel like a coward. How about you?”
Kita frowned at him and they shared a nervous laugh. He shook his head at Kenyatta’s attempt to relax the tension. “Let’s just go straight through and get this over with,” he said. “It’s just a forest. We avoid predators and we’ll be fine.” It was only talk, though. Both could feel that it wouldn’t be so simple.
* * *
The siblings traveled across half of the valley without incident, Kenjiro making little sound, his ninja sister making none at all. They refrained from speaking, instead using various hand gestures to relay their intent. Although neither had actually seen a dragon, they had grown up hearing the stories and legends about them. The dragons of the east were fearful but mostly unthreatening. It was the fabled dragons of the west that were to be feared. It was said that these greedy beasts could sense the absence of the smallest trinket from their enormous hoards of riches. Although he and his sister were far to the east of where these beasts lived—if they existed—it meant nothing to the winged creatures who were said to be capable of flying great distances.
More than halfway across, Kenjiro was beginning to feel foolish for believing such a mythical beast could actually exist, when the temperature grew warmer and the air became still and dead. A grim feeling passed between the two warriors and they increased their speed.
As they neared the end of the trench, a hill was visible, along with the rimming outer mountains beyond. They would be safe once they reached the wooded mountains.
A few hundred feet from the trench’s end, the ground began to shake, and at that moment Akemi looked ahead to see a huge chunk of the ground simply fall away, creating a chasm at least a hundred feet across. Instinctively, she began to slow; but at that same instant, her older brother grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. Once confident that she would keep pace, Kenjiro released her wrist and pointed behind them. Akemi glanced over her shoulder and her eyes widened with horror before she recovered and nodded at her brother.
The dust from the crumbled earth made it impossible to see, yet their instincts told them that to leap outside the trench would be suicide. Kenjiro slipped a silk handkerchief from inside his cloak and tied it across his eyes while his younger sister did the same. The dirt and grit would have blinded them and disrupted their focus, so they would instead rely on their other senses and instincts.
As Akemi flanked her brother, she could feel the presence trailing them, pressing in. Dust and pebbles and grit bombarded them as they ran straight through the sandstorm. They didn’t see the edge of the drop, but they felt it and leapt forward, disappearing into the dust cloud.
They called upon the endless hours, days, weeks, months, and years of training, as they glided into the stinging sandstorm. Instead of leaping up, they leaped to opposite walls of the chasm. Tiny granules of rock and sand cut at them as they leapt from the left wall to the right, crisscrossing the distance using momentum, timing and strength.
They hit solid ground and rolled to their feet in one fluid motion, racing out of the trench and straight for the grassy hills. They removed their handkerchiefs and tucked them back into their cloaks, all the while never breaking stride. Now that they were on relatively safe solid ground again, Akemi took the opportunity to glance at their backs. A worried frown creased her forehead as she saw the dust following them in the form of a four-legged reptilian beast as large as a horse, closing in. Its wings looked to span thirty feet from tip to tip. Kenjiro looked in surprise as his younger sister pulled ahead. The samurai didn’t need to look behind him to know that whatever was behind them was getting closer.
They crossed the distance from the trench to the hills and passed into the woods, darting in and out of the dense foliage, leaping over bushes and jumping through the trees.
They ignored their labored breath and burning legs and climbed the hills until they’d put a comfortable distance between themselves and that valley. When they slowed to catch their breath, Akemi dropped to her hands and knees, panting. Her legs felt like they were made of both pudding and lead, and air could not fill her lungs quickly enough.
They’d come to rest in a clearing of trees, and the ninja turned and plopped on the green and yellow grass, leaning back on her elbows while her brother simply fell face first in the grass. “It warms me inside to know that my sister wouldn’t have left me behind,” his muffled voice said.
Akemi never looked at her brother, but continued to gaze back at the ominous valley. “There was no time to talk and I knew you would follow.” She grinned. “Don’t pout. We made it, did we not?”
“Barely.”
“What do you mean?” Akemi asked.
Kenjiro turned his head to look his sister in the eye. “Something entered my thoughts just as we made our way out. It was like something was speaking to me through my subconscious, telling me that we were strong and would be granted passage only if we could make it to the hills. At that same instant, I felt a power on my back like nothing I’d ever experienced.” He stood and took one last glance at the bowl-shaped valley. “I don’t want to ever look upon this place again and I won’t be comfortable until we are long gone from this place.”
* * *
The islanders had been moving through the safety of the trees for an hour when Kenyatta felt it was time to get their bearings. He got Kita’s attention, then pointed to a giant of a tree just ahead.
Kita nodded and leapt from limb to limb until he reached the highest branch, then climbed to the top. He nearly fell from his perch when he saw that they had at least three more miles till they reached the coast.
He descended and started to explain when Kenyatta held up a finger to his lips. He pointed to the ground beneath them, and Kita leaned forward to peek over the side of the thick branch. He spotted a conspicuous looking shape next to a tree stump. Kenyatta whispered very quietly into his ear. “Some kinda shadow creatures creeping around down there. Looks like they been tracking someting.”
Kita knew that devious look. A smile brightened Kenyatta’s eager visage until he saw that Kita did not share his enthusiasm. “Whatcha worrying about, man?” he whispered.
“We have miles still, before we reach the coast,” Kita whispered back. “And the forest only gets thicker and darker.”
Now was Kenyatta’s turn to look worried. He had thought they were close to the end of their trek through the woods, but to hear Kita tell it, they still had a long way to go. Now they were being tracked. “Should we take them out right now or try and elude them and stick to the trees?”
Kenyatta glanced down again. “Someting tell me we should get outta here fast as we can. I don’t like dis place too much.”
Kita agreed wholeheartedly, and they continued on, careful not to make a sound while keeping an eye on the forest floor. They stopped on the limbs of a giant oak to scan the area. The forest was still and quiet, the atmosphere tense. No chirping birds, not a single grasshopper or cricket seemed willing to chance a serenade to one another. Not even a breeze.
Kita and Kenyatta waited. Nothing happened, but they knew something was wrong. Kita was just about to indicate that they move on when a shadow on the side of the tree detached from the trunk and descended upon them.
They leapt backward to a nearby branch, their weapons at the ready before they landed. They glanced at each other and then at the strange shadow creature as its arms began to change shape. A frown creased Kita’s brow as he looked around Kenyatta at the shadowy figure that now possessed two long, wavy blades where its arms once were.
Kenyatta glanced down and noticed five more shadows slithering about the bushes. He signaled for his friend to look beneath them. Kita glanced down, then back to Kenyatta, seeing an excited gleam in his eyes. Kita grinned.
The humanoid shadow figure leaped at them with its arm-blades whirling in a blur. The three glided past each other, clashing blades as they passed. As planned, the two warriors now
stood on the larger branch and in a more advantageous position. As soon as the shadow landed, it turned and leaped at them again. The two warriors cut it apart before it landed, and Kita delivered the killing strike, decapitating it. As the head dropped from its shoulders, a score of thin appendages seeped out of its neck and wrapped around the head. Kita and Kenyatta stared as it was lifted and replaced back on the shadow’s shoulders.
Kita glanced at his equally dumbfounded friend and then slashed the thing repeatedly while Kenyatta scanned the area once more. The shadow dissipated under Kita’s onslaught, and they thought the thing was surely dead, when their instincts screamed at them and they spun and deflected two descending strikes aimed at their heads.
The shadow creature had reformed behind them and came in with a flurry of stabs and arcing strikes, all deflected by the two fighters. They drove the shadow back and worked both its arm-blades out wide, then simultaneously severed both arms and kicked the shadow from the tree to the ground below.
Not taking the time to look at the result, they leaped through the trees, swinging and vaulting from limb to limb.
“Got any ideas why dat ting won’t die?” Kenyatta asked. He grabbed hold of a limb the size of his arm with one hand and swung his body under, releasing and landing on a branch a few feet below.
“Remember what your sister said,” Kita answered. “Our weapons must be charged with some kind of power that can fight demons.”
“So they’re demons, then? Dat would explain it, but I wish me sister was here now. It would make tings a lot easier.”
Four shadow demons appeared in the trees in front of them, and both warriors stopped and darted in opposite directions, Kita to the right and Kenyatta to the left. The group of fiends separated and pursued.
Echoes of a Shattered Age Page 10