by Noah Ward
“Enough,” she said, sliding the flat of her katana across Shay’s sword until she was in range to grab the girl’s wrist.
Shay was panting; a smile crept on her face. When she looked up at Kaz, it faded.
“Good,” said Kaz.
Lowering her blade, Shay thanked her.
“You haven’t killed someone, have you?” she said.
Shay looked more like a young woman than a warrior then.
“I...don’t know,” Shay said. “Maybe…”
“Try to keep it that way.”
In a heartbeat, Shay’s warrior demeanour evaporated, revealing a girl once again. “I have, um, a question about Akimaru…”
“Speak, then,” said Kaz, examining her blade.
“Do you know of Shirocairn?”
The woman lifted her eyes from her katana, brows knitted. “It’s the city’s old shogen shrine, destroyed winters ago by Retsudan’s soldiers when they besieged the capital. Why?”
“My mother spoke of it, is all…”
It sounded like a half truth to Kaz, but she didn’t care enough to pry. She’d be getting her krystallis before the girl went sightseeing, that was for sure.
Kaz sheathed her blade and then hesitantly clapped the girl gently on the shoulder. “C’mon. We need to leave now if we want to reach Akimaru by midday.”
◆◆◆
Practicing with the blade Kaz had bought her had repressed the growing sense of apprehension and guilt welling in her gut. A part of her wanted to stay in the forest, practicing, not thinking. But they had cleared the camp and set off on the keval as time seemed to accelerate, leading her to Akimaru.
Would he really be there? What would she say to him? Would he welcome her? Though those thoughts had plagued her in the lonely journey from the south, ever since she’d crossed the border to Zenitia and been captured, events had moved so swiftly that Shay hadn’t time to parse her thoughts properly. It didn’t help that she’d...glossed over some elements. Who knew if she could keep her promise to Kaz. She didn’t think it likely. She feared Kaz’s disappointment more than any violent retribution. She’d like to think the woman was beyond it.
Let’s be realistic, Shay.
The best way--the only way--was to keep bullshitting and hope it all worked out in the end. Despite the niggling sensation in her stomach that tried to work her mouth and confess to Kaz, a limbo found her on the journey, making it impossible to break the silence. Turning it over in her mind as they broke the forest, cantered by the partially frozen rivers, skirted settlements in the distance and watched animals roam snowy plains, the next time she craned her head from the road, the giant roof of a castle had materialised from once endless and formless land.
“We’re close,” said Kaz.
Shay murmured acknowledgment. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her hands were damp. She swallowed the boulder in her throat. Kaz turned round and frowned at her, only her eyes visible.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” the woman offered.
Shay turned her head away as tears threatened to fall. Oh, shogens, what the fuck was she supposed to do? She should make up some excuse, have Kaz drop her off, convince her to forget about her promise, and then--
No no no nonono it wouldn’t work.
Her chest tightened, lungs in a vice. She reminded herself to breathe, willed the towering castle on the horizon recede, prayed for something to take them off track. Send bandits, send spirits from the white wastes--anything.
But her prayers went unanswered. The city of Akimaru continued to draw closer, as if she watched at some giant meteor descend from the sky, knowing that her time was finite and the end of her world was inevitable.
“The gate shouldn’t pose too much of a problem,” said Kaz, seemingly oblivious to Shay’s world crumbling. “Chances are, we’ll be through the gate some time after midday. Then you’ll take me to your uncle.” The woman slowly looked over her shoulder at Shay.
“Of course,” Shay blurted. “I’m sure he can’t wait to see me.
28
Dreams of Psilocybin
One night many summers ago, Gin had snuck off deeper into the forests of Matsuda where his kamen village was located. Along with a close friend and some others, they had gone in search of “special” mushrooms. His friend said she’d done it before, said it was amazing, eye-opening. He’d wanted to impress her, so when she offered, he was more than willing to take a trip with her.
That night the sky was clear, and they had chosen that day specifically because of an annual shower of meteors in the sky. Some claimed it was sparks flying from Ryudan’s great hammer as he forged stars in eternal flames. Gin didn’t care. It looked nice. Supposedly even nicer when you couldn’t tell your arse from a hole in the ground.
They gathered in a small clearing where a grassy hillock offered an interrupted view of the light show above. As they lay on the grass, a little further away from the others, she’d asked him if he was feeling well. He’d lied and said “yes, of course”. In truth, he worried if his father would discover their antics and punish her, which inevitably led to thoughts about his future with the kamen.
She’d just given him one and he’d hungrily accepted it. The mushroom was bitter and disgusting but washed down with some rice wine made it vaguely tolerable. She didn’t take anything.
At first, he felt fine. The meteor shower began; streaks of flame, like a blade cutting the firmament itself to reveal the fire underneath, enraptured him. He’d laughed and tried to trace them with his finger, predict where they would begin next. But his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere. When he told her that, she insisted that he focus on the good. Couldn’t help it, though. And it only worsened. His father appeared in his mind, dominated his addled thoughts. A rake of white light tore the sky open like claws and he saw the old man rip reality apart to drag him to the white wastes, to whatever torturous afterlife disappointed fathers cart their sons off to.
Gin hadn’t remembered much after that. He’d wept like a babe, not the best move for the younger man he’d been at the time. Thankfully, the others had been too wasted to notice, but not her. She hadn’t mocked him, though. She was angry he had not confessed how he was feeling before, then comforted him.
In short, it had been the worst trip of Gin’s life.
Until today...or yesterday...or this morning. When he finally cracked an eye open, he was on a thin yet comfy pallet, drenched in sweat. His fingers traced down his bare midriff, tiptoeing past old scars and new bruises until he touched fabric. He tried to crane his head upwards, but it was as if his skull had been replaced with a lead weight. Someone had patched him up and experience told him the wound was not deep, just deep enough to administer the tanto’s hallucinogenic coating.
“Shogens…” he murmured to himself. He was wrung out, been running a gauntlet of nightmarish situations, both fabricated and real. No surprise, his father had been there, always disappointed. But she’d been there, too. And he couldn’t imagine why. Gin couldn’t decide which had stung more. All he knew was that he’d offer up a prayer to the shogens every day for ending it.
A cool breeze sent goosebumps over his exposed flesh. The open window just above and to the right told him the sun had risen a little while ago. He brought a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Feeling better are we, kamen?” said a raspy voice to his left.
Gin jerked, his abdomen wasn’t happy with that move. He reached for a blade that wasn’t there.
“Peace,” said the voice. He laid a bony hand on Gin’s chest and patted it gently, though he was too numb to feel it.
Gin turned his stiff head to the left. An old man was sat on a stool by the pallet. He had a white tuft of beard like a goat, triangular, sagging features, and dressed in mud-green robes like a bosan. He had a long pipe jammed into his mouth and was occupying himself trying to light it.
After taking a long breath, he came to his senses. “You found me…” Gin relaxe
d. “I feared they weren’t keeping watch.”
“Always watching,” said the old man. He finally lit the pipe and let out a hack of exultation. “How are you feeling, Gin?”
“Like someone dropped a mountain on my head…” Gin looked at the old man, raised his eyebrows.
The old man took the pipe from his mouth and pointed it at his chest. “Call me Izado.” Izado picked up a waterskin from the table beside the pallet and handed it to Gin. The rest of the room was quite austere. His tanto lay atop his folded garb, next to the bag he had deposited earlier.
“Let’s call your investigation a...work in progress,” said Izado.
Gin gave him a flat stare for a moment, then relented. “There have been a few obstacles,” he conceded, then quickly added: “Nothing Lord Matsuda needs to be made aware of.”
“Or Hikamen Takaeda,” Izado said with a smile.
“No,” said Gin through tight lips.
“Then why don’t you tell me what you do know, boy, hmm?” Izado tapped some ash on the floor.
Gin had half a mind to tell the old man to treat him with some respect. He outranked the agent by such a height it could give him vertigo. He stayed his tongue; he’d saved him, and Gin was angrier about being bested. The mention of his father was an extra kick while he was, literally and figuratively, down.
With great effort and a wince, Gin shuffled from his prone position to lean against the wall under the window. The sounds of life outside bustled, but he ignored them. Izado waited expectantly, puffing on his pipe. Now he was upright, Gin spotted the large, gnarled staff propped against the wall.
“I tracked one of their agents from the bandit encampment towards this city,” Gin began. No need to announce he’d be caught by surprise and flung over a cliff edge. Just the flattering facts. “His name is Kuma. Sworn. Unbelievable strength for one so frail-looking. And…” His empty stomach curdled at the thought. “He ate flesh. Human flesh.”
“There’s somethin’ you don’t hear every day,” Izado added. “He roasted someone on a spit?”
Gin frowned and was unable to stop a scoff from leaving his lips. “No. He...he had them in his keval’s saddlebags, along with a letter of passage for Akimaru.”
Izado stroked his beard and stared at the ceiling. “They do not simply hand those types of documents to anyone.”
Gin nodded and traced a hand across the bindings of his wounds. “There was something else.” He swallowed. “There was a mark--a jewel--in his palm or through his hand.”
“I could never understand Zenitian fashion…” Izado quipped.
“What? No. It was krystallis, I’m sure of it.”
“Mudan,” Izado said. Gin frowned, unable to make the connection. “You said he had unbelievable strength. That’s Mudan, my boy. Did you not listen in your classes?”
Well, no, not really, but that was beside the point.
“You’re saying someone made him sworn or something like that?” His chest tightened. They should have brought the whole clan with them… Maybe he was overreacting.
“What does your kamen intelligence say?”
Krystallis-infused people...a red-robed woman...massacred bandits. If he were banking on instinct...
“It’s Asami. She was the one who met with him. She’s the only one capable of doing something like that.”
Izado raised an eyebrow. “So it is them…”
“That was how…” Gin looked at his wound. “There was another woman, I think. Not Asami, though.”
“So how many of Retusdan’s sworn do you believe involved?”
Gin’s shoulders sagged. “No word on the Hanza the Blind Butcher, though our contacts claimed to have seen him down the Ryuzi River. Ayane the One-Armed Guillotine is an unkown. Suzaku the Red Wolf and Kitsune the Cub are the same. The old guard are supposedly dead or at least haven’t shown their faces. We’ll call that freak I met one of the new brood, along with the one that ambushed me. No word on the White Reaper, but if Asami is around, I doubt she’s acting without him.”
Izado contemplated what Gin had said in silence, occasionally puffing on his pipe. “So,” he said after a few moments, “you know what question I will ask next?”
For some reason, Gin felt like a child. He answered regardless. “‘Why?’”
The old man nodded. “Now there’s a question you’d pay a ransom of aians to know.”
He turned his head to the side and gazed into the sky. “I’m working on it.”
“Do you have a trail?”
“Asami spoke of a task for the one called Kuma. Some girl was arriving in the city.”
Izado took another toke. “Really?”
“I don’t know how it fits into anything...yet. He was to take her to a house. But it’s still--”
“Follow the girl, that is your task.”
Gin’s hands balled into fists. “But Asami--”
“You should know better than anyone not to chase shadows, Gin. Best to wait for the light, don’t you think?”
The old man was right, but Gin wasn’t going to admit it. He could well be embarking on some wild goosechase for all he knew.
With a grimace, Gin rose to his feet. He inspected the wound. It was tender but wouldn’t hinder him. If all else failed, he had the safety of the shadows.
Izado stood, knee joints popping. He rubbed his lower back before tamping out his pipe. As Gin pulled on his under armour, Izado took up his staff and rapped it on the floor.
“Good luck, boy. You’ll need it,” he said, before cackling and leaving Gin behind.
“We really need new people in these safehouses,” Gin muttered to himself as he finished getting dressed.
29
A Pretty Picture
When Shay had pictured cities in her youth, they had been great walled spaces with vast greenland rolling for as far as the eye could see. Her travels toward the Zenitian border had altered that perception: there were patches of farm houses, rice fields, and sparse dwellings but all relatively in order and patrolled by Retsudan’s soldiers. Akimaru was nothing like that.
Hundreds of people milled about the gates; shanty dwellings had been erected or people simply camped where they could. It stank of excrement; people stared at them hollow-faced. Detritus was everywhere. Retsudan’s guards did not seem to care in the least, only policing the areas close to the gates where people queued to gain entry. When fights broke out, they were quick to subdue the dissenters with swift club strikes.
“You claimed it was near the docks?” Kaz said over her shoulder.
The two were approaching a large gate. A long, snaking queue vomited from the entrance, curving along the body of water that encircled Akimaru. Where the moat opened up into a larger river, boats bobbed gently in between slabs of floating ice. Shay even thought she spotted a krystallis-powered craft but the curve of wall obscured her view.
“Yes, close to the docks,” Shay mumbled in response.
“I’d recommend you send word if you can,” Kaz said, to which Shay’s heart jumped. “But we’d best avoid drawing any attention to ourselves.”
Shay swallowed. “Er, yes…”
The keval trotted along the ice and mud, closer to the gate, until Kaz tugged on its reins to bring the beast to a stop. She slid out of the saddle and Shay followed.
Oh, shogens, what was she going to do?
Everything will be fine. You have no idea how. It just will be. There’s no other option.
“Keep close and watch your belongings,” said the woman as she led the keval along to join one of the three disorderly lines. Though calling them “lines” seemed generous.
As they drew closer, Shay was able to discern three main clumps of people: those with palanquins or who bore swollen merchant packs on their backs or kevals; general populace wanting entry; people who had kevals. They joined the third mass.
“It will take a few hours,” Kaz said while passed the keval’s reigns to Shay and then began fiddling with her pouch of her tab
acco. “Don’t let anyone take your place and don’t bother talking to anyone else. When we reach the end of the line, the guards will ask what you are doing here.” She finished her rollup and looked at Shay. “I’m a bodyguard hired to transport a merchant’s nephew to the city from your parents in Hakkanose. You will work in his business. You can do sums, can’t you?”
Shay nodded. “My swordmaster taught me.”
“Good.” She lit the rollup. “They’ll ask you where your uncle’s business is and what he does. Just tell them the truth and we’ll be fine. Don’t lie. Do you understand?”
Shogens did she understand. “Yes,” she squeaked.
Mudan, please devour the ground around Shay and swallow her.
Shay waited in line, silent and partially paralyzed, only moving with the trickling ebb of the masses. A membrane formed around her that deflected the outside world. Each step she took towards that looming gate propagated no answer or excuse.
“State your business,” said the guard.
Shay’s eyes snapped upwards to gawp at the man. There was a woman in armour to his left. They kept their hands on the hilts of their swords at all times. Beyond the gaping mouth of the gate, Akimaru spilled into view. A wide, muddy tract of earth acting as central causeway into the city bustled with raggedy stalls bustling with people while others wandered in the road and denizens led kevals to stables. The noise assailed her; she couldn’t think, let alone craft the bullshit necessary for them to gain entry. Beyond the morass of people and buildings, walls gradually curved upwards in a spiralling line that culminated at a towering castle.
“I’m here escorting the boy to his uncle,” said Kaz. She glared at Shay out of the corner of her eye. “We have travelled from Hakkanose. He will be seeking placement in the man’s merchant business.”
The male guard nodded and then focused his eyes on Shay. “The business?”
“In the docks,” Shay managed to squeeze through her tight lips.