It is always in slow motion
I dream of skipping
in a gingham dress.
Looking down at my legs
my feet bare
sinking slightly in sand.
The waves surging then retreating
on the beach
every third or forth skip.
My arms swinging wildly
fingers curled in
reaching high in front.
Heartbeat like an echo
not a beat
but just as sure.
It is honest work.
March 23, 2010
March 21, 2010
Flight of the Warrior- 14
The island
They had arrived on the island the day before.
She felt more rested than when she arrived but could feel it would take one more night before the muscle fatigue would leave her. The flight had been difficult, the wind buffeting them over the sea and she had resorted again to being carried by the tracker. She bore the marks on her skin where he had caught her just before she was pushed down by a strong gust.
Tomoe had not arrived, so they were staying in a small lonely tavern on the western tip of the island. Blake had paid the owner handsomely to keep his mouth shut about their arrival. He said they were having an affair and did not wish anyone to know where they were, and were not to be disturbed. If their stay was satisfactory they may come again. The rouse had worked so far, she had detected nothing in the owner's face that would indicate he did not believe them.
All they could do was wait and rest.
"I would like to wash properly before I sleep tonight," she said indicating to the tub. It was large copper pot, only slightly bigger than her, sitting in the corner of the room. There was no partition, no way for her to get any privacy. He had left her only briefly the day before to get some food and drink for them both. There was no time to organise hot water then. But she simply could not wait to immerse herself and feel the heat seep into her weary muscles tonight. She was also keen to scrub with some soap and remove any last traces of the oil.
"I will organise some hot water, then I will go......downstairs for a bit."
"Thank you," she replied studying his face. He seemed to be brooding over something today, since they woke in the early hours of the morning he was uneasy around her. She had sat up in bed, only a light shift covering her. He had been sleeping in a chair by the fire, but was awake when she sat up. His was looking straight at her bare arms, and she saw a look of horror on his face. He had seen the purple bruises on her upper arms where he had caught her and held her for the last part of the flight. They were marks from his hands, his fingers. He had not looked her in the eye for the rest of the day, and spoke only when she started the conversation first. He had insisted she rest.
His face told her nothing, other than he was troubled. He left the room and she went over to the fire, poking it with a steel rod that lay against the stone hearth. Perhaps he was feeling guilty because of the bruises? She had told him not to worry, it was the curse, he had not been rough with her. In fact since the incident in the cave by the spruce forest he had been the perfect gentleman. Or maybe the marks were a reminder to him that she was a damned woman, spoiled somehow and he was unsettled being around her?
The door opened and she caught a glimpse of the owner and his wife leaving large bowls of steaming water outside in the hall. Blake carefully carried each one in and poured them into the copper tub. "I'll be back in an hour," he said and exited the room swiftly.
She enjoyed the bath, and relished the chance to be alone with her own thoughts. She was apprehensive about the coming of the old woman. Much was riding on what she could learn from her. She had so many questions. Blake had said he felt the trail would go cold on the mountainside near the hut for the kage. He would have to use more conventional methods to find her. This might take two weeks maybe three at the most. She trusted his judgment, tracking after all was his profession. So she had that time to learn what she could and formulate a plan. And she hoped by then she would be ready to face him.
She heard a soft knock at the door, then "It's me, are you....out?"
"Almost." The hour had gone fast. She hastily jumped out of the tub and wrapped the navy kimono he had bought from the owners wife for her. It had a red sash. It was the first present anyone had given her since she was a child. "Done."
He entered slowly as if expecting her to be in a state of undress, looking everywhere but at her. "Do you want to use the water, it is still warm," she offered.
"They have a hot spring not far from here. I have just been there." He dropped the hood and she could see his hair was wet. Even from across the room she detected he smelled slightly of sandalwood.
"The owner is probably thinking something is strange. If we were having an affair.....I mean if two people were having an affair one would certainly not leave the room while the other was bathing," she said, she was worried the lie would backfire.
"I have fixed it," he muttered, turning from her to unfold his sleeping blanket over the chair.
"Oh, how?"
"I told him I went to the geisha house in the next village. I was too much for you." His voice was low, his back still turned.
"Not a hot spring then?"
He spun around, and for the first time all day looked her square in the eye. "I told him I went to the geisha house, but I went to the hot spring." Was that anger in his voice?
"I believe you," she said, then adding a note of sarcasm, "But no one would blame you if that is where you had gone."
He took a couple of quick steps toward her and she inhaled sharply thinking he was gong to grab her, shake her, or slap her. His eyes certainly burned with emotion, probably rage. She steeled herself for the impact, the blow, but it never came. Instead he stopped short of her, maybe a foot away at the most. She felt the familiar heavy feeling and a slight dizziness.
"It is an insult to suggest I would abandon a woman I have promised to protect, to bury my troubles in the thighs of another. Don't play with me Freya." He stepped back to his chair, took one last long look at her, sweeping down the length of the robe. Turning his back again to adjust the sleeping blanket, "I may not be able to touch you, but it pleases me somewhat that you wear the robe I bought you. At least that can touch your skin." He wrapped the blanket around his broad shoulders, settling into the chair, and closed his eyes smiling to himself.
Stunned she fell back onto the bed. The dizziness had passed but she felt like she had been hit. Why had she never noticed it before? Too stupid came the reply.
There were signs that perhaps he had other reasons to stay with her now. And the question she asked herself.....did she want him to stay for those reasons?
They had arrived on the island the day before.
She felt more rested than when she arrived but could feel it would take one more night before the muscle fatigue would leave her. The flight had been difficult, the wind buffeting them over the sea and she had resorted again to being carried by the tracker. She bore the marks on her skin where he had caught her just before she was pushed down by a strong gust.
Tomoe had not arrived, so they were staying in a small lonely tavern on the western tip of the island. Blake had paid the owner handsomely to keep his mouth shut about their arrival. He said they were having an affair and did not wish anyone to know where they were, and were not to be disturbed. If their stay was satisfactory they may come again. The rouse had worked so far, she had detected nothing in the owner's face that would indicate he did not believe them.
All they could do was wait and rest.
"I would like to wash properly before I sleep tonight," she said indicating to the tub. It was large copper pot, only slightly bigger than her, sitting in the corner of the room. There was no partition, no way for her to get any privacy. He had left her only briefly the day before to get some food and drink for them both. There was no time to organise hot water then. But she simply could not wait to immerse herself and feel the heat seep into her weary muscles tonight. She was also keen to scrub with some soap and remove any last traces of the oil.
"I will organise some hot water, then I will go......downstairs for a bit."
"Thank you," she replied studying his face. He seemed to be brooding over something today, since they woke in the early hours of the morning he was uneasy around her. She had sat up in bed, only a light shift covering her. He had been sleeping in a chair by the fire, but was awake when she sat up. His was looking straight at her bare arms, and she saw a look of horror on his face. He had seen the purple bruises on her upper arms where he had caught her and held her for the last part of the flight. They were marks from his hands, his fingers. He had not looked her in the eye for the rest of the day, and spoke only when she started the conversation first. He had insisted she rest.
His face told her nothing, other than he was troubled. He left the room and she went over to the fire, poking it with a steel rod that lay against the stone hearth. Perhaps he was feeling guilty because of the bruises? She had told him not to worry, it was the curse, he had not been rough with her. In fact since the incident in the cave by the spruce forest he had been the perfect gentleman. Or maybe the marks were a reminder to him that she was a damned woman, spoiled somehow and he was unsettled being around her?
The door opened and she caught a glimpse of the owner and his wife leaving large bowls of steaming water outside in the hall. Blake carefully carried each one in and poured them into the copper tub. "I'll be back in an hour," he said and exited the room swiftly.
She enjoyed the bath, and relished the chance to be alone with her own thoughts. She was apprehensive about the coming of the old woman. Much was riding on what she could learn from her. She had so many questions. Blake had said he felt the trail would go cold on the mountainside near the hut for the kage. He would have to use more conventional methods to find her. This might take two weeks maybe three at the most. She trusted his judgment, tracking after all was his profession. So she had that time to learn what she could and formulate a plan. And she hoped by then she would be ready to face him.
She heard a soft knock at the door, then "It's me, are you....out?"
"Almost." The hour had gone fast. She hastily jumped out of the tub and wrapped the navy kimono he had bought from the owners wife for her. It had a red sash. It was the first present anyone had given her since she was a child. "Done."
He entered slowly as if expecting her to be in a state of undress, looking everywhere but at her. "Do you want to use the water, it is still warm," she offered.
"They have a hot spring not far from here. I have just been there." He dropped the hood and she could see his hair was wet. Even from across the room she detected he smelled slightly of sandalwood.
"The owner is probably thinking something is strange. If we were having an affair.....I mean if two people were having an affair one would certainly not leave the room while the other was bathing," she said, she was worried the lie would backfire.
"I have fixed it," he muttered, turning from her to unfold his sleeping blanket over the chair.
"Oh, how?"
"I told him I went to the geisha house in the next village. I was too much for you." His voice was low, his back still turned.
"Not a hot spring then?"
He spun around, and for the first time all day looked her square in the eye. "I told him I went to the geisha house, but I went to the hot spring." Was that anger in his voice?
"I believe you," she said, then adding a note of sarcasm, "But no one would blame you if that is where you had gone."
He took a couple of quick steps toward her and she inhaled sharply thinking he was gong to grab her, shake her, or slap her. His eyes certainly burned with emotion, probably rage. She steeled herself for the impact, the blow, but it never came. Instead he stopped short of her, maybe a foot away at the most. She felt the familiar heavy feeling and a slight dizziness.
"It is an insult to suggest I would abandon a woman I have promised to protect, to bury my troubles in the thighs of another. Don't play with me Freya." He stepped back to his chair, took one last long look at her, sweeping down the length of the robe. Turning his back again to adjust the sleeping blanket, "I may not be able to touch you, but it pleases me somewhat that you wear the robe I bought you. At least that can touch your skin." He wrapped the blanket around his broad shoulders, settling into the chair, and closed his eyes smiling to himself.
Stunned she fell back onto the bed. The dizziness had passed but she felt like she had been hit. Why had she never noticed it before? Too stupid came the reply.
There were signs that perhaps he had other reasons to stay with her now. And the question she asked herself.....did she want him to stay for those reasons?
March 20, 2010
Flight of the Warrior- 13
Running from the shadow
He was very worried about her.
She had been stoic at first, ashen-faced but stoic. Then she had started to wriggle, that was the first sign. She began to complain they needed to take a break. She was polite at first, the requests made quietly, and when he whispered they needed to go a little further she would hang her head. Then she started to beg, plead and reason with him. Surely he was tired, perhaps they should stop and get him some food. Maybe if they stopped they would be able to get a sense of how far away the kage was. They may have more time than they thought!
And then, she started to lapse in and out of consciousness. It was then he really began to worry. Each time she was out cold for longer and longer, and she woke groaning in pain. Finally with the small shelter in sight, he moved off the small pocket of prevailing wind he had been using to glide over the high passes. Landing as softly as his fatigue would allow, he fell onto his knees in the soft snow. She had been unconscious for a few moments before he landed, but she woke with a start. Almost instantly she clawed away from his grasp and on all fours was sick in the snow.
He was not sure if it was the hours flying or his mind playing tricks but the sight of her struggling to get away from him only to throw up repeatedly broke his spirit. She was right, there had to be a way to release her from the curse. It was the worst type of torture.
After a while there seemed to be nothing left inside her and he motioned she should come inside the mountain shelter. He had used this hut several times before. It was nothing special, but provided some warmth and protection from the harsh storms that regularly erupted over the area. It was also the most direct way west and he knew the area was uninhabited.
She moved slowly and with some relief he noticed her cheeks had some colour. He silently prepared the hearth and she watched him as he made tea and a small dish of rice and beans. She ate little so he encouraged her to take just one more bite, and one more.
After eating she fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning and murmuring to herself. He could not handle it, it was agony to watch her when all he wanted to do was take her hand and tell her it was alright. So he left the hut and went to check on the weather outside. They would probably have to leave first thing in the morning but he did not want to get stuck in a storm and be snowed in for days, losing precious time and allowing the kage to close in on them like caged birds. If a storm was coming he would let her sleep for a couple of hours and then wake her to leave again.
Looking at the sky it seemed clear in all directions, mostly blue sky and light winds. No threatening cloud formations. Then he drew his focus inward to see if there was anything further he could learn, any warnings on the wind. He was struck immediately by the silence. There was nothing, like he was in a void. No messengers flapping around him vying for attention. There was only one vibration far away in the distance that he sensed, hard to make out. He went back inside to check on her. She was sitting up sipping some tea, looking worn, ragged.
"Anything?" she asked.
He was not sure what she was asking, what she knew he could see, so he answered, "Nothing close by. But something, maybe bad weather coming our way. We may need to leave."
She got up and moved to the door, leaving the cup on the table near the hearth.
He looked with amazement at the clouds rushing toward them, they were incredibly close now. Where there had been a fairly clear sky before, the area to the south west was almost entirely black. She looked at him stunned, "Was it this close before?"
"No," he replied with genuine concern in his voice. He moved to stand in front of her so she could not see his eyes glowing red as he took his focus inward, and saw instantly a tremendous wind on its way to her. A message, a warning.
Not caring about his glowing eyes he turned to her, "A message for you."
She had gone white, in shock he thought. And then suddenly before either of them had a chance to move, they were immersed in cloud, complete with a strong wind that did not seem to know which direction it was going. Then as if entering a different weather zone, the cloud was gone and a thick mist descended. He could only just make her out so he took a few steps closer, unsure of what was going to happen next. Then as if in a vacuum the whole mist seemed to rush at them and he gasped at the sensation.
In a surge of wind the cloud and mist was gone, they were standing on the snow, surrounded in blue sky again.
He glanced at her, and was instantly alarmed. She was kneeling down, grasping at handfuls of snow and rubbing it viciously against her wrists.
"What are you doing? You will hurt yourself...please stop." But unable to grab her without causing her pain there was little he could do.
"At least tell me what is wrong?" he pleaded.
"The jasmine, he is following the trail of jasmine." At this she started to wrench at her clothes, almost naked now, still grabbing handfuls of snow and scouring her skin with it.
He came up behind her, grabbed the cloak that had been thrown off and placed it around her shoulders, saying softly, "That is enough. You have removed the oil. Come on. we have to get inside."
She stopped raking her skin but sat for a moment looking down at the snow in her hands, he wrists red raw. She nodded and stood up drawing the cloak around her. Picking up the remainder of her clothes he led the way inside the hut.
"We have to go west to an island off the coast. A woman will meet us there. She said his name is Nakano, he is a ronin. He is some way east from here so we have a small lead, but she warns to not waste a moment. Should he fly he will catch us quickly, at present he is riding a horse. He is following me because I sent you a message and the jasmine..... I am a fool," she added almost to herself.
"Do you think you can trust this woman?" he asked.
"I was going to go to her after I met you in the forest. I don't know how she knew I was going to do that. I had heard she has special skills. I wanted to learn from her."
"Do you know her name, where she is from?" It was his job to protect her and he would not go to the island without being satisfied it was not a trap.
"Tomoe I think, she lives in Tsurugajo."
He smiled to himself. She was a very famous female samurai. Even Blake with his limited knowledge of bygone conflicts knew of her. She would be quite old now, but certainly a good person to have on side if she could help Freya. Finally some luck was falling their way.
"We need to go now," she said "If you feel up to it I mean you must be very tired. I can fly myself for a while, although I am not as fast as you."
He nodded. "Let's go then." And he shut the door with the hearth still burning inside.
He was very worried about her.
She had been stoic at first, ashen-faced but stoic. Then she had started to wriggle, that was the first sign. She began to complain they needed to take a break. She was polite at first, the requests made quietly, and when he whispered they needed to go a little further she would hang her head. Then she started to beg, plead and reason with him. Surely he was tired, perhaps they should stop and get him some food. Maybe if they stopped they would be able to get a sense of how far away the kage was. They may have more time than they thought!
And then, she started to lapse in and out of consciousness. It was then he really began to worry. Each time she was out cold for longer and longer, and she woke groaning in pain. Finally with the small shelter in sight, he moved off the small pocket of prevailing wind he had been using to glide over the high passes. Landing as softly as his fatigue would allow, he fell onto his knees in the soft snow. She had been unconscious for a few moments before he landed, but she woke with a start. Almost instantly she clawed away from his grasp and on all fours was sick in the snow.
He was not sure if it was the hours flying or his mind playing tricks but the sight of her struggling to get away from him only to throw up repeatedly broke his spirit. She was right, there had to be a way to release her from the curse. It was the worst type of torture.
After a while there seemed to be nothing left inside her and he motioned she should come inside the mountain shelter. He had used this hut several times before. It was nothing special, but provided some warmth and protection from the harsh storms that regularly erupted over the area. It was also the most direct way west and he knew the area was uninhabited.
She moved slowly and with some relief he noticed her cheeks had some colour. He silently prepared the hearth and she watched him as he made tea and a small dish of rice and beans. She ate little so he encouraged her to take just one more bite, and one more.
After eating she fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning and murmuring to herself. He could not handle it, it was agony to watch her when all he wanted to do was take her hand and tell her it was alright. So he left the hut and went to check on the weather outside. They would probably have to leave first thing in the morning but he did not want to get stuck in a storm and be snowed in for days, losing precious time and allowing the kage to close in on them like caged birds. If a storm was coming he would let her sleep for a couple of hours and then wake her to leave again.
Looking at the sky it seemed clear in all directions, mostly blue sky and light winds. No threatening cloud formations. Then he drew his focus inward to see if there was anything further he could learn, any warnings on the wind. He was struck immediately by the silence. There was nothing, like he was in a void. No messengers flapping around him vying for attention. There was only one vibration far away in the distance that he sensed, hard to make out. He went back inside to check on her. She was sitting up sipping some tea, looking worn, ragged.
"Anything?" she asked.
He was not sure what she was asking, what she knew he could see, so he answered, "Nothing close by. But something, maybe bad weather coming our way. We may need to leave."
She got up and moved to the door, leaving the cup on the table near the hearth.
He looked with amazement at the clouds rushing toward them, they were incredibly close now. Where there had been a fairly clear sky before, the area to the south west was almost entirely black. She looked at him stunned, "Was it this close before?"
"No," he replied with genuine concern in his voice. He moved to stand in front of her so she could not see his eyes glowing red as he took his focus inward, and saw instantly a tremendous wind on its way to her. A message, a warning.
Not caring about his glowing eyes he turned to her, "A message for you."
She had gone white, in shock he thought. And then suddenly before either of them had a chance to move, they were immersed in cloud, complete with a strong wind that did not seem to know which direction it was going. Then as if entering a different weather zone, the cloud was gone and a thick mist descended. He could only just make her out so he took a few steps closer, unsure of what was going to happen next. Then as if in a vacuum the whole mist seemed to rush at them and he gasped at the sensation.
In a surge of wind the cloud and mist was gone, they were standing on the snow, surrounded in blue sky again.
He glanced at her, and was instantly alarmed. She was kneeling down, grasping at handfuls of snow and rubbing it viciously against her wrists.
"What are you doing? You will hurt yourself...please stop." But unable to grab her without causing her pain there was little he could do.
"At least tell me what is wrong?" he pleaded.
"The jasmine, he is following the trail of jasmine." At this she started to wrench at her clothes, almost naked now, still grabbing handfuls of snow and scouring her skin with it.
He came up behind her, grabbed the cloak that had been thrown off and placed it around her shoulders, saying softly, "That is enough. You have removed the oil. Come on. we have to get inside."
She stopped raking her skin but sat for a moment looking down at the snow in her hands, he wrists red raw. She nodded and stood up drawing the cloak around her. Picking up the remainder of her clothes he led the way inside the hut.
"We have to go west to an island off the coast. A woman will meet us there. She said his name is Nakano, he is a ronin. He is some way east from here so we have a small lead, but she warns to not waste a moment. Should he fly he will catch us quickly, at present he is riding a horse. He is following me because I sent you a message and the jasmine..... I am a fool," she added almost to herself.
"Do you think you can trust this woman?" he asked.
"I was going to go to her after I met you in the forest. I don't know how she knew I was going to do that. I had heard she has special skills. I wanted to learn from her."
"Do you know her name, where she is from?" It was his job to protect her and he would not go to the island without being satisfied it was not a trap.
"Tomoe I think, she lives in Tsurugajo."
He smiled to himself. She was a very famous female samurai. Even Blake with his limited knowledge of bygone conflicts knew of her. She would be quite old now, but certainly a good person to have on side if she could help Freya. Finally some luck was falling their way.
"We need to go now," she said "If you feel up to it I mean you must be very tired. I can fly myself for a while, although I am not as fast as you."
He nodded. "Let's go then." And he shut the door with the hearth still burning inside.
Flight of the Warrior- 12
The last adventure
The old lady lived in the castle complex of Tsurugajo near the port. It was her job to go down to the shore well before sunrise to give the fishermen her predictions.
It was common for the area to be cloaked in a blanket of snow this time of year and this morning was no different. She woke and covered her aging joints in layers before climbing slowly up the staircase of the west tower. From here she could listen and feel the coming of the day's weather. She also received other messages that were unrelated to weather but she kept those to herself. They were meant for her. They were private.
She had been excited for some days prior as she expected the arrival of a red headed girl. This girl would want to speak with her, perhaps learn her skills. The thought of a visitor, one she could talk to about the old ways lifted her spirits. In fact, for a while there she had thought about picking up her swords and running through some basic motions. But she was in her seventies now and the bones were more fragile than she hoped, the muscles hung loosely on her frame and she limped badly from an old injury. Adventure seemed a thing of the past.
But this morning she was anxious. Arriving at the top of the tower staircase she took a moment to catch her breath before opening the crude door. She could feel bad news before she went outside, it seemed to be seeping through every small opening in the door frame.
Being centred and alert was important. The wind would deliver much to her particularly in the first few moments atop the turret. She had to be ready and focus on what she needed. It was very much, she imagined, like a mother who walks into a room full of her children, all yelling at her, pulling at her kimono, demanding that she listen to them and not their brother or sister. Except she had no children of her own.
Once she reached the centre of the small turret, the wind whirling around her head, she closed her eyes to draw her powers to the fore. Opening her eyes they glowed slightly red and she could see the messengers cloaked in smoke racing through the air, some black menacing and wild, others white and joyous. She waited for a moment till she saw it, and opened her arms.... inviting. Several messengers trailing black smoke made vain attempts to crash into her but she was too quick and she slapped them away with a carefully placed movement of her hand. They held what she did not care to hear, the threat of war, the coming of the mongols again. There would be time to know the details before the invasion. A moment later she welcomed the messenger she was looking for, grey smoke passing through her body.
She retreated inside. The girl was not coming, she was fleeing the man who had attacked her. She was stuck in a place and trying to call a stranger to help her. And the worst news, Nakano was trying to find her, and he had picked up her trail, jasmine on the wind.
She sat on the first step trying to make sense of it all. This was bad very bad. She had only been able to do so much to keep Nakano away from the girl. She had convinced him in a dream that he needed to go South to pick up the fees he was owed. That if he didn't war would come and he may never see the money. He must strengthen his ties to the nobility of the South, too much time had passed since his last visit. He had taken too many women, there had been too much pleasure and not enough work. He would pay for this. The God of War would not be happy.
But there was little she knew she could do to stop him once he was hunting the girl. His passion once flamed would not dim till he found her.
But the girl was not ready, not prepared. She was a warrior yes, and she had some natural talents. Like all warrior women she was proud and strong, but she lacked knowledge that would unlock her skills. That is where Tomoe would come in, she would be the girl's teacher. The girl must not die, there were too little of her kind around anymore.
So perhaps she would have to go to the girl. As old and frail as she was, she would need to travel to her and try and teach her the tools she needed, in less time than she would probably need. The question was how was she going to get to her before Nakano did? Perhaps she should break her silence and send the girl a message to warn her somehow.
The daimyo would never let her leave because of the warnings she provided the villagers, but it was not uncommon for her to go out on the boats from time to time. She would use this as her way to escape. She would ask a local fisherman she knew and trusted to take her to the island of Sadogashima where she would have the girl meet her. It was further north for her, but according to the messages she had received was west of the girls location, away from Nakano who was coming from the east. No time to waste.
Getting up as quickly as her tired body would let her, she returned to the turret. Standing in the centre again she drew her concentration inward. Her eyes blazed red, and a mist fell around her. She raised her hands to the sky and the mist turned to rainclouds, the wind increasing in speed her garments billowing around her legs. In a swift motion, her hands came together in a soundless clap and the clouds shot off to the Northeast, racing like thoroughbreds through the sky. Every messenger in it's path cleared the way.
Returning inside she did not pause to rest, but continued down the stairs. With each step the list of questions grew. She wondered where the stranger fit into all this? She wondered if she had the energy for the voyage? But most of all she wondered if her message would reach the girl before Nakano did.
The old lady lived in the castle complex of Tsurugajo near the port. It was her job to go down to the shore well before sunrise to give the fishermen her predictions.
It was common for the area to be cloaked in a blanket of snow this time of year and this morning was no different. She woke and covered her aging joints in layers before climbing slowly up the staircase of the west tower. From here she could listen and feel the coming of the day's weather. She also received other messages that were unrelated to weather but she kept those to herself. They were meant for her. They were private.
She had been excited for some days prior as she expected the arrival of a red headed girl. This girl would want to speak with her, perhaps learn her skills. The thought of a visitor, one she could talk to about the old ways lifted her spirits. In fact, for a while there she had thought about picking up her swords and running through some basic motions. But she was in her seventies now and the bones were more fragile than she hoped, the muscles hung loosely on her frame and she limped badly from an old injury. Adventure seemed a thing of the past.
But this morning she was anxious. Arriving at the top of the tower staircase she took a moment to catch her breath before opening the crude door. She could feel bad news before she went outside, it seemed to be seeping through every small opening in the door frame.
Being centred and alert was important. The wind would deliver much to her particularly in the first few moments atop the turret. She had to be ready and focus on what she needed. It was very much, she imagined, like a mother who walks into a room full of her children, all yelling at her, pulling at her kimono, demanding that she listen to them and not their brother or sister. Except she had no children of her own.
Once she reached the centre of the small turret, the wind whirling around her head, she closed her eyes to draw her powers to the fore. Opening her eyes they glowed slightly red and she could see the messengers cloaked in smoke racing through the air, some black menacing and wild, others white and joyous. She waited for a moment till she saw it, and opened her arms.... inviting. Several messengers trailing black smoke made vain attempts to crash into her but she was too quick and she slapped them away with a carefully placed movement of her hand. They held what she did not care to hear, the threat of war, the coming of the mongols again. There would be time to know the details before the invasion. A moment later she welcomed the messenger she was looking for, grey smoke passing through her body.
She retreated inside. The girl was not coming, she was fleeing the man who had attacked her. She was stuck in a place and trying to call a stranger to help her. And the worst news, Nakano was trying to find her, and he had picked up her trail, jasmine on the wind.
She sat on the first step trying to make sense of it all. This was bad very bad. She had only been able to do so much to keep Nakano away from the girl. She had convinced him in a dream that he needed to go South to pick up the fees he was owed. That if he didn't war would come and he may never see the money. He must strengthen his ties to the nobility of the South, too much time had passed since his last visit. He had taken too many women, there had been too much pleasure and not enough work. He would pay for this. The God of War would not be happy.
But there was little she knew she could do to stop him once he was hunting the girl. His passion once flamed would not dim till he found her.
But the girl was not ready, not prepared. She was a warrior yes, and she had some natural talents. Like all warrior women she was proud and strong, but she lacked knowledge that would unlock her skills. That is where Tomoe would come in, she would be the girl's teacher. The girl must not die, there were too little of her kind around anymore.
So perhaps she would have to go to the girl. As old and frail as she was, she would need to travel to her and try and teach her the tools she needed, in less time than she would probably need. The question was how was she going to get to her before Nakano did? Perhaps she should break her silence and send the girl a message to warn her somehow.
The daimyo would never let her leave because of the warnings she provided the villagers, but it was not uncommon for her to go out on the boats from time to time. She would use this as her way to escape. She would ask a local fisherman she knew and trusted to take her to the island of Sadogashima where she would have the girl meet her. It was further north for her, but according to the messages she had received was west of the girls location, away from Nakano who was coming from the east. No time to waste.
Getting up as quickly as her tired body would let her, she returned to the turret. Standing in the centre again she drew her concentration inward. Her eyes blazed red, and a mist fell around her. She raised her hands to the sky and the mist turned to rainclouds, the wind increasing in speed her garments billowing around her legs. In a swift motion, her hands came together in a soundless clap and the clouds shot off to the Northeast, racing like thoroughbreds through the sky. Every messenger in it's path cleared the way.
Returning inside she did not pause to rest, but continued down the stairs. With each step the list of questions grew. She wondered where the stranger fit into all this? She wondered if she had the energy for the voyage? But most of all she wondered if her message would reach the girl before Nakano did.
March 14, 2010
Flight of the Warrior- 11
A frank discussion
He smiled back, he could not refuse her. "You are welcome."
She pulled her knees up to her chest, drawing the cloak around her legs, she shivered slightly. There was a chill in the air. "That was my second time sending a message. I was not sure how to do it. I did...do not know your name...so I had to remember other things about you to make sure I was sending it to the right person..." her voice trailed off and she looked behind her subconsciously, as if checking to see if she had been overheard.
"You did a good job," he said simply, then "Blake....my name is Blake."
She leaned forward and held out her hand, "Freya".
He took her hand, it was ice cold. She withdrew it quickly, very quickly, another shiver invading her body. "You are frozen. Let me see if I can make a fire." He could make fire by summoning it but there was no wood to keep it burning here. "I can go and get some wood ," he rose to his feet.
"There is no need, this is a hot spring. I can go in and warm up. I did that last night and it worked well. Will you turn your back?"
He was still thinking about getting firewood, and looking at her dumbly, it was a moment before he registered what she was saying. He stumbled over his words, "Oh, I....yes, of course....yes." He was thankful his back was to her as his neck and ears flushed red.
He heard a soft splash, "You can turn around now".
He turned slowly. Nervous, like a boy again, on his first day of school. "I am sorry to be so....brazen, but I need to get warm straight away. One night sleeping on that cold rock slab was enough for me."
He sat down again, not wanting to see her body through the water. The light was getting stronger now, the day starting.
She swam about the pool for a while, no words passing between them. He watched her from the corner of his eye. It was hard not to, she was as graceful out of water as she was in. She was mesmerising.
She motioned that he should turn around again and after she was fully clothed she said, "I need your help." He turned to look at her, hair wet and tied back off her face in a bun. Her cheeks were rosy from the swim and she looked beautiful. He was in big trouble now.
Looking down at his feet he said, "You need to tell me why you ran, how you ended up here."
She told him about the message on the wind, he had figured out she knew how to read messages when he had received one from her so that was no surprise. She told him how she had fled to the East, making the mistake that led her to this spot. She explained that she could not take off without running some distance and that although she did not know he was able to fly, she guessed at it and that he might be able to get her out of her predicament. She said she was very sorry to ask him for help, but she had thought of no other way out.
He continued to look down at his feet. He would help her of course but he needed some guarantee she would not run from him again. He needed her to stay with him, and he had several reasons for that now.
It was a risk offering her an ultimatum, but he felt he did not have any other choice. "I can get you out of here. You will need to hold onto me, but I can fly some distance with two. We will need to jump off that small ledge over the river." He paused. This was tricky. "I will ask something of you in return."
She visibly bristled. He had used the wrong words. She thought he was going to ask something indecent of her. Quickly he added, "I need to find the man who hurt you. As I said when we last met, I believe he will try to find you. If I can remain with you I can protect you and my employer will be pleased when I capture him."
"You have made two assumptions." Her voice was very quiet, but he could trace some anger in it. "You assume that I wish to be protected, and you assume you are his equal or better." She looked him directly in the eye, a challenge. "What makes you assume either of these facts to be true?"
"I don't make assumptions. I hope you want my protection, and I know I can beat him. But I won't leave this place without your assurance." He stood up, getting ready to go. He hoped if she did not think about it too much she would say yes. Rushing her thought process would be his best chance now. "It may rain, we should get out of here before it does. It would flood quickly. What do you say? Do I have your word?"
"You have a plan, a place to go? I need to know that if you are to use me like bait to lure the shark, that it is well thought out. I don't want to end up dead."
He felt as if she had hit him square in the stomach. "I take no pleasure from this situation Freya. This man is a monster, and he will attack again. And I am sorry to say this, he will come after you. With me by your side you have more of a chance than if you were alone."
She nodded in resignation. "We will need to set some ground rules. I will also need some privacy at times. Please don't touch me unless you have to. He has put a curse on me, that when a man comes near or touches me I feel very ill."
"That bastard," he muttered.
"Yes that is my name for him as well. He wants me to always be reminded of him Blake, even if I am not with him I am still reminded I am his. As soon as I can figure out how to break that spell....." she choked back a tear. "You know it is that part that upsets me more than anything. My freedom, my liberty is my only possession. When that is taken away, life feels quite hollow."
He moved forward instinctively to comfort her and stopped halfway in the space between them. "See, you cannot even hold me when I most need it. I am deprived from the touch of a normal man, I am to know only his depravity." She broke into soft sobs now.
He knew something that could help. When he was a small child he was sent off to a boarding school. In the many long months away from his mother he grew homesick. It was during this time he discovered he could send her a kiss or a hug, and she could send one back, and it felt almost real. He could try that with Freya, give her some comfort. But he was rushing things, moving with his emotions and not the practicality of the situation. And he also must be careful of betraying too much about his extra talents. Not unless it was necessary to do so.
"I am sorry," was all he could say, and with her eyes still closed she nodded.
Small sobs wracked her body for some time. When this stopped and she did open her eyes the bright sunlight of the day had flooded the ravine. They were still standing apart in the same positions but something seemed different. How long had they been standing there?
She picked up her satchel and they moved to the ledge. She slid around to face him so that her back was to the raging river. Then she silently grasped him round the neck, circling one leg in his. He noticed her face go a shade of grey before he fell forward and flew out of the opening and down the ravine.
He smiled back, he could not refuse her. "You are welcome."
She pulled her knees up to her chest, drawing the cloak around her legs, she shivered slightly. There was a chill in the air. "That was my second time sending a message. I was not sure how to do it. I did...do not know your name...so I had to remember other things about you to make sure I was sending it to the right person..." her voice trailed off and she looked behind her subconsciously, as if checking to see if she had been overheard.
"You did a good job," he said simply, then "Blake....my name is Blake."
She leaned forward and held out her hand, "Freya".
He took her hand, it was ice cold. She withdrew it quickly, very quickly, another shiver invading her body. "You are frozen. Let me see if I can make a fire." He could make fire by summoning it but there was no wood to keep it burning here. "I can go and get some wood ," he rose to his feet.
"There is no need, this is a hot spring. I can go in and warm up. I did that last night and it worked well. Will you turn your back?"
He was still thinking about getting firewood, and looking at her dumbly, it was a moment before he registered what she was saying. He stumbled over his words, "Oh, I....yes, of course....yes." He was thankful his back was to her as his neck and ears flushed red.
He heard a soft splash, "You can turn around now".
He turned slowly. Nervous, like a boy again, on his first day of school. "I am sorry to be so....brazen, but I need to get warm straight away. One night sleeping on that cold rock slab was enough for me."
He sat down again, not wanting to see her body through the water. The light was getting stronger now, the day starting.
She swam about the pool for a while, no words passing between them. He watched her from the corner of his eye. It was hard not to, she was as graceful out of water as she was in. She was mesmerising.
She motioned that he should turn around again and after she was fully clothed she said, "I need your help." He turned to look at her, hair wet and tied back off her face in a bun. Her cheeks were rosy from the swim and she looked beautiful. He was in big trouble now.
Looking down at his feet he said, "You need to tell me why you ran, how you ended up here."
She told him about the message on the wind, he had figured out she knew how to read messages when he had received one from her so that was no surprise. She told him how she had fled to the East, making the mistake that led her to this spot. She explained that she could not take off without running some distance and that although she did not know he was able to fly, she guessed at it and that he might be able to get her out of her predicament. She said she was very sorry to ask him for help, but she had thought of no other way out.
He continued to look down at his feet. He would help her of course but he needed some guarantee she would not run from him again. He needed her to stay with him, and he had several reasons for that now.
It was a risk offering her an ultimatum, but he felt he did not have any other choice. "I can get you out of here. You will need to hold onto me, but I can fly some distance with two. We will need to jump off that small ledge over the river." He paused. This was tricky. "I will ask something of you in return."
She visibly bristled. He had used the wrong words. She thought he was going to ask something indecent of her. Quickly he added, "I need to find the man who hurt you. As I said when we last met, I believe he will try to find you. If I can remain with you I can protect you and my employer will be pleased when I capture him."
"You have made two assumptions." Her voice was very quiet, but he could trace some anger in it. "You assume that I wish to be protected, and you assume you are his equal or better." She looked him directly in the eye, a challenge. "What makes you assume either of these facts to be true?"
"I don't make assumptions. I hope you want my protection, and I know I can beat him. But I won't leave this place without your assurance." He stood up, getting ready to go. He hoped if she did not think about it too much she would say yes. Rushing her thought process would be his best chance now. "It may rain, we should get out of here before it does. It would flood quickly. What do you say? Do I have your word?"
"You have a plan, a place to go? I need to know that if you are to use me like bait to lure the shark, that it is well thought out. I don't want to end up dead."
He felt as if she had hit him square in the stomach. "I take no pleasure from this situation Freya. This man is a monster, and he will attack again. And I am sorry to say this, he will come after you. With me by your side you have more of a chance than if you were alone."
She nodded in resignation. "We will need to set some ground rules. I will also need some privacy at times. Please don't touch me unless you have to. He has put a curse on me, that when a man comes near or touches me I feel very ill."
"That bastard," he muttered.
"Yes that is my name for him as well. He wants me to always be reminded of him Blake, even if I am not with him I am still reminded I am his. As soon as I can figure out how to break that spell....." she choked back a tear. "You know it is that part that upsets me more than anything. My freedom, my liberty is my only possession. When that is taken away, life feels quite hollow."
He moved forward instinctively to comfort her and stopped halfway in the space between them. "See, you cannot even hold me when I most need it. I am deprived from the touch of a normal man, I am to know only his depravity." She broke into soft sobs now.
He knew something that could help. When he was a small child he was sent off to a boarding school. In the many long months away from his mother he grew homesick. It was during this time he discovered he could send her a kiss or a hug, and she could send one back, and it felt almost real. He could try that with Freya, give her some comfort. But he was rushing things, moving with his emotions and not the practicality of the situation. And he also must be careful of betraying too much about his extra talents. Not unless it was necessary to do so.
"I am sorry," was all he could say, and with her eyes still closed she nodded.
Small sobs wracked her body for some time. When this stopped and she did open her eyes the bright sunlight of the day had flooded the ravine. They were still standing apart in the same positions but something seemed different. How long had they been standing there?
She picked up her satchel and they moved to the ledge. She slid around to face him so that her back was to the raging river. Then she silently grasped him round the neck, circling one leg in his. He noticed her face go a shade of grey before he fell forward and flew out of the opening and down the ravine.
Flight of the Warrior- 10
Bound to her
He flew through the night.
In his mind he heard her over and over again. She was weary, horribly weary, but he could still detect the fear in her voice. She seemed drained of all energy. He imagined she would have to be desperate to call him. His mere presence seemed to make her sick.
But still there was something in those eyes, looking at him, green and bright.
He shook his head. Whimsical thoughts, no time for those now. He had to think about what he might find when he got to her. He felt that she could be imprisoned, there was something in the message that suggested this. He would need to stay focused to ensure he stayed alive. There was danger all around this girl.
He followed the scent on the wind, just the faintest hint of jasmine. Without it the process would have been laborious. His normal method of tracking was using the messages on the wind, but he had to tap into all of the them and work through them one at a time. Like reading a pile of letters until you find just the right phrase hidden deep in the middle of line after meaningless line. A time consuming task.
As the night passed the scent grew stronger and by the early hours of the morning he came upon a steep ravine cut into cold mountains. He traveled upstream flying close to the water, flicking up at him as if performing some strange sort of dance. The sun was beginning to rise, but in the shadow of the ravine the night was still present.
Passing through a bend in the river he suddenly lost the scent. It had been so strong and then .....just gone. Then with heart sinking he thought she must have been thrown or fallen into this ravine. He had been too late.
He turned sharply and returned to the place he had lost the scent. Feeling a sense of sadness he could not understand he looked up the ravine wall, leaping to a small step partially covered in creeper for a moments rest. Jasmine was very strong here. Pushing the creeper aside he realised there was a hidden space behind the rock face.
It took a moment to adjust to the light and he was momentarily confused by the heady smell. Then he saw her, wrapped in her traveling robes, on the far side of a small pool. He could see the soft rise and fall of her chest so he knew she was sleeping, and he hoped not hurt.
He inhaled, slowly and deliberately. He needed a moment to slow down his suddenly racing heartbeat, and to make sure they were alone in the place. Looking around the small enclosure he was assured there was no danger.
Moving soundlessly over to her he wondered how the hell she had ended up here. This was at best a temporary hiding spot, and a dangerous one. Any rain and this area would flood and suck anyone in here downward to the river. Tonight the sky had been clear, so no chance of that at least for a couple of hours. But you simply could not underestimate how quickly the weather could change in the mountains.
He sat and looked at her in the dim light. She was cocooned in her cloak, only part of her face exposed. She looked vulnerable, and he struggled to harness feelings that raced away unbridled and dangerous. It occurred to him that when he had received her message he had wasted no time. He had come straight away. Why? He wanted to believe that is was because if he stayed with her the kage would eventually appear and it was his best chance of capturing him, appeasing his employer and collecting the handsome salary. But there was an alternate reason. Sitting close to her while she slept he battled to control his feelings.
Then she opened her eyes. Waking quickly she sat up, a soft smile on her lips. "Thankyou for coming."
He flew through the night.
In his mind he heard her over and over again. She was weary, horribly weary, but he could still detect the fear in her voice. She seemed drained of all energy. He imagined she would have to be desperate to call him. His mere presence seemed to make her sick.
But still there was something in those eyes, looking at him, green and bright.
He shook his head. Whimsical thoughts, no time for those now. He had to think about what he might find when he got to her. He felt that she could be imprisoned, there was something in the message that suggested this. He would need to stay focused to ensure he stayed alive. There was danger all around this girl.
He followed the scent on the wind, just the faintest hint of jasmine. Without it the process would have been laborious. His normal method of tracking was using the messages on the wind, but he had to tap into all of the them and work through them one at a time. Like reading a pile of letters until you find just the right phrase hidden deep in the middle of line after meaningless line. A time consuming task.
As the night passed the scent grew stronger and by the early hours of the morning he came upon a steep ravine cut into cold mountains. He traveled upstream flying close to the water, flicking up at him as if performing some strange sort of dance. The sun was beginning to rise, but in the shadow of the ravine the night was still present.
Passing through a bend in the river he suddenly lost the scent. It had been so strong and then .....just gone. Then with heart sinking he thought she must have been thrown or fallen into this ravine. He had been too late.
He turned sharply and returned to the place he had lost the scent. Feeling a sense of sadness he could not understand he looked up the ravine wall, leaping to a small step partially covered in creeper for a moments rest. Jasmine was very strong here. Pushing the creeper aside he realised there was a hidden space behind the rock face.
It took a moment to adjust to the light and he was momentarily confused by the heady smell. Then he saw her, wrapped in her traveling robes, on the far side of a small pool. He could see the soft rise and fall of her chest so he knew she was sleeping, and he hoped not hurt.
He inhaled, slowly and deliberately. He needed a moment to slow down his suddenly racing heartbeat, and to make sure they were alone in the place. Looking around the small enclosure he was assured there was no danger.
Moving soundlessly over to her he wondered how the hell she had ended up here. This was at best a temporary hiding spot, and a dangerous one. Any rain and this area would flood and suck anyone in here downward to the river. Tonight the sky had been clear, so no chance of that at least for a couple of hours. But you simply could not underestimate how quickly the weather could change in the mountains.
He sat and looked at her in the dim light. She was cocooned in her cloak, only part of her face exposed. She looked vulnerable, and he struggled to harness feelings that raced away unbridled and dangerous. It occurred to him that when he had received her message he had wasted no time. He had come straight away. Why? He wanted to believe that is was because if he stayed with her the kage would eventually appear and it was his best chance of capturing him, appeasing his employer and collecting the handsome salary. But there was an alternate reason. Sitting close to her while she slept he battled to control his feelings.
Then she opened her eyes. Waking quickly she sat up, a soft smile on her lips. "Thankyou for coming."
Flight of the Warrior- 9
She asks for help
Running on empty she arrived at the ravine.
She was not sure if it was the exhaustion, but the air was full of messages. She could not make out a single one, her head buzzed as if it was a hive full of bees. He eyes blurred and her normally excellent night vision was failing. She would need to find a spot soon, or she would just drop from the sky like a stone, defeated.
There was no thinking this through. She simply dived down into the ravine. The sound of crashing and tumbling water deafened her. She longed for silence. She flew away from the thunder of the water instinctively toward a bend in the riverbed where she discovered a semi enclosed area, hidden by a wall of creeper over rock. There was a small pond fed by a steady but modest stream of water coming from higher on the wall of the ravine. On one side of the pond was a stone platform, that bent up into a smooth rock wall, beaten by the river in times of flood. Body aching with effort she threw her satchel down on the platform, and fell down next to it.
She was too tired to cry. She was too tired to make a fire, too tired to eat. With dull resignation she crawled to the edge of the pond. Have a few mouthfuls of water, then sleep, she thought. It was the best she could do for herself.
To her surprise the water was warm, and she realised she had come upon one of the hot springs the area was famous for. This was a wonderful stroke of good luck. These hots springs were touted for their restorative powers. They not only restored energy but also clarity.
She hastily threw off her clothes, and stepped into the spring. She was shaky and uncertain of her footing, but after a clumsy moment she managed to get herself seated with only her head out of the water.
Reason began to return. It was then she noticed straight away she had landed in a place where she could not run to take off. Her eyes darted all around her looking for a way she might climb up the ravine wall. Nothing, no hand or foot holds. Rejoining the river and letting it's flow take her further down was not an option. She would be crushed up against the jagged rocks and there were many waterfall drops. She would be pounded by tonnes of water.
She held her face in her hands and began to cry. Softly. She was cornered by her own stupidity.
After some time she could cry no more. Her mind returned to thoughts of escape. There had to be a way out of here. She looked again at the walls surrounding her, perhaps she had missed something. She got out of the spring and put her clothes on. She would have a closer look.
She inspected every section of wall. It was wet and slippery and there were no sharp edges. This area obviously became of funnel for water in heavy rains, as the rock was worn smooth. She checked the entry way, perhaps she could climb the creeper, but it fell away in her hands, dropping the couple of feet to the river below.
She sat down next to her satchel. She rubbed her tired eyes. They felt swollen, so she closed them and listened to the noises around her. Water, the crashing heavy sound of water. Then overlaid on this the messages, further in the distance but still discernible. A mass of different sounds, words interwoven and competing for attention. There was nothing there that could help her.
If only she had learned to take off with a couple of steps. She had tried many times. In fact the night she was attacked she had decided to go to a clearing she knew and practice.
There was no-one she could ask to show her. The only man she knew who could fly was her attacker. She was not about to call for his help.
It was then that it occurred to her. The tracker might be able to fly. He had been sleeping many miles from the village in the cave, perhaps he had flown there? And there was also the mystery of the market. How he had been behind her and then in front of her in the matter of a moment?
So if he could fly, perhaps he could help her. She decided to ask.
She had once before sent a message on the wind, to the physician who had helped her when she was wounded. In her haste to leave she had not thanked him, so she had sent a message from her heart on the night breeze. She had no idea he had received it but felt a certain peace come over her. Perhaps an unloading of her conscience or maybe she had actually done it!
She grabbed the jasmine oil from her satchel and dabbed a little on her wrists. She hoped this might help him find her. It was a hopeless gesture, she really did not know how these messages worked.
Standing out near the entrance she pushed the creepers aside. A cool gust jumped up at her feet, thrust up by waves tumbling into one another from the river below. Hopefully this would be enough.
She thought of him, looking at her with those shining eyes in the cave, she felt his hand on her scar, she heard his rough voice explaining they could not talk out in the open. I need your help, she whispered, surprised and embarrassed by the emotion in her voice she withdrew to the inner platform.
Now she had to wait. She unraveled the blanket and laid it on a dry patch of the platform. She laid down using the satchel for a pillow, and pulled her traveling robes close to her.
She went to sleep.
Running on empty she arrived at the ravine.
She was not sure if it was the exhaustion, but the air was full of messages. She could not make out a single one, her head buzzed as if it was a hive full of bees. He eyes blurred and her normally excellent night vision was failing. She would need to find a spot soon, or she would just drop from the sky like a stone, defeated.
There was no thinking this through. She simply dived down into the ravine. The sound of crashing and tumbling water deafened her. She longed for silence. She flew away from the thunder of the water instinctively toward a bend in the riverbed where she discovered a semi enclosed area, hidden by a wall of creeper over rock. There was a small pond fed by a steady but modest stream of water coming from higher on the wall of the ravine. On one side of the pond was a stone platform, that bent up into a smooth rock wall, beaten by the river in times of flood. Body aching with effort she threw her satchel down on the platform, and fell down next to it.
She was too tired to cry. She was too tired to make a fire, too tired to eat. With dull resignation she crawled to the edge of the pond. Have a few mouthfuls of water, then sleep, she thought. It was the best she could do for herself.
To her surprise the water was warm, and she realised she had come upon one of the hot springs the area was famous for. This was a wonderful stroke of good luck. These hots springs were touted for their restorative powers. They not only restored energy but also clarity.
She hastily threw off her clothes, and stepped into the spring. She was shaky and uncertain of her footing, but after a clumsy moment she managed to get herself seated with only her head out of the water.
Reason began to return. It was then she noticed straight away she had landed in a place where she could not run to take off. Her eyes darted all around her looking for a way she might climb up the ravine wall. Nothing, no hand or foot holds. Rejoining the river and letting it's flow take her further down was not an option. She would be crushed up against the jagged rocks and there were many waterfall drops. She would be pounded by tonnes of water.
She held her face in her hands and began to cry. Softly. She was cornered by her own stupidity.
After some time she could cry no more. Her mind returned to thoughts of escape. There had to be a way out of here. She looked again at the walls surrounding her, perhaps she had missed something. She got out of the spring and put her clothes on. She would have a closer look.
She inspected every section of wall. It was wet and slippery and there were no sharp edges. This area obviously became of funnel for water in heavy rains, as the rock was worn smooth. She checked the entry way, perhaps she could climb the creeper, but it fell away in her hands, dropping the couple of feet to the river below.
She sat down next to her satchel. She rubbed her tired eyes. They felt swollen, so she closed them and listened to the noises around her. Water, the crashing heavy sound of water. Then overlaid on this the messages, further in the distance but still discernible. A mass of different sounds, words interwoven and competing for attention. There was nothing there that could help her.
If only she had learned to take off with a couple of steps. She had tried many times. In fact the night she was attacked she had decided to go to a clearing she knew and practice.
There was no-one she could ask to show her. The only man she knew who could fly was her attacker. She was not about to call for his help.
It was then that it occurred to her. The tracker might be able to fly. He had been sleeping many miles from the village in the cave, perhaps he had flown there? And there was also the mystery of the market. How he had been behind her and then in front of her in the matter of a moment?
So if he could fly, perhaps he could help her. She decided to ask.
She had once before sent a message on the wind, to the physician who had helped her when she was wounded. In her haste to leave she had not thanked him, so she had sent a message from her heart on the night breeze. She had no idea he had received it but felt a certain peace come over her. Perhaps an unloading of her conscience or maybe she had actually done it!
She grabbed the jasmine oil from her satchel and dabbed a little on her wrists. She hoped this might help him find her. It was a hopeless gesture, she really did not know how these messages worked.
Standing out near the entrance she pushed the creepers aside. A cool gust jumped up at her feet, thrust up by waves tumbling into one another from the river below. Hopefully this would be enough.
She thought of him, looking at her with those shining eyes in the cave, she felt his hand on her scar, she heard his rough voice explaining they could not talk out in the open. I need your help, she whispered, surprised and embarrassed by the emotion in her voice she withdrew to the inner platform.
Now she had to wait. She unraveled the blanket and laid it on a dry patch of the platform. She laid down using the satchel for a pillow, and pulled her traveling robes close to her.
She went to sleep.
Flight of the Warrior- 8
Running again
She was terrified when she left her hut. Flying for over an hour the fear began to be dulled by fatigue. She was not good over long distances.
Then after losing her concentration one time too many she decided she needed to stop and find a place to eat and rest. It was of the utmost importance she not be seen. There must be no trace whatsoever of the direction she was taking. So she decided on stopping in the mountains of the Southern Japanese Alps, find a cave, or some sort of shelter. She might stay for a day or two and then fly the remainder of the way to Tokyo.
As she turned in the direction of the alps she heard it. I summon you. She could not mistake his voice. Each word rang like a low pitched gong in her head. It resonated. She continued to hear the echo long after the message came. She also felt he was close. Then the shocking realisation she had stupidly flown over the east, where the wind had told her he was riding.
Mistake after mistake.
There was only one choice she would need to fly north, perhaps to another mountain range, try to outrun him. She would go to the Jyoshin-etsu area. This would mean another hour flying. She was not altogether happy with her choice, the area was known for Asiatic black bears, but she felt she was backed into a corner. She needed distance. She would try to find a spot along the Matsukawa ravine.
Minutes in the air felt like hours. She was exhausted by the effort of flying, and the constant danger. Several times during the journey she wished she was not alone, she even wished for the company of the tracker. Someone whose mere presence would help her to stay alert. They were hopeless thoughts she was on her own, and always had been. Her plan to see the old lady in the fishing village was abandoned. Her plan to practice with two jian would need to wait.
There was no time for plans, it was all too late now.
She was terrified when she left her hut. Flying for over an hour the fear began to be dulled by fatigue. She was not good over long distances.
Then after losing her concentration one time too many she decided she needed to stop and find a place to eat and rest. It was of the utmost importance she not be seen. There must be no trace whatsoever of the direction she was taking. So she decided on stopping in the mountains of the Southern Japanese Alps, find a cave, or some sort of shelter. She might stay for a day or two and then fly the remainder of the way to Tokyo.
As she turned in the direction of the alps she heard it. I summon you. She could not mistake his voice. Each word rang like a low pitched gong in her head. It resonated. She continued to hear the echo long after the message came. She also felt he was close. Then the shocking realisation she had stupidly flown over the east, where the wind had told her he was riding.
Mistake after mistake.
There was only one choice she would need to fly north, perhaps to another mountain range, try to outrun him. She would go to the Jyoshin-etsu area. This would mean another hour flying. She was not altogether happy with her choice, the area was known for Asiatic black bears, but she felt she was backed into a corner. She needed distance. She would try to find a spot along the Matsukawa ravine.
Minutes in the air felt like hours. She was exhausted by the effort of flying, and the constant danger. Several times during the journey she wished she was not alone, she even wished for the company of the tracker. Someone whose mere presence would help her to stay alert. They were hopeless thoughts she was on her own, and always had been. Her plan to see the old lady in the fishing village was abandoned. Her plan to practice with two jian would need to wait.
There was no time for plans, it was all too late now.
March 08, 2010
Flight of the Warrior- 7
Black heart on a black horse
He rode a black horse, given to him for his bravery during the war.
He had been a samurai in the cavalry, skilled in both yabusame and the sword. He was one of the few who could ride and shoot a bow, then jump from his horse and fight hand to hand or with his katana. They called him the shourisha because his arrival to the battlefield, no matter how hopeless it was, meant a victory for his side. He seemed to wield some sort of magic.
He was a tall man, over six feet, with large muscular shoulders. He was unlike the other samurai who were shorter, but he had their quickness. And he was a ronin, he answered to no-one. He fought in battle for the sheer glory of killing. Because of his status he was able to move from place to place and no daimyo ever refused him food or shelter.
He was returning from collecting a fee for his services during the war. He had demanded the overlord's daughter together with the fee. She was very pretty, but she was weak and acquiesced to him all too easily. She had cried and begged for mercy. He left her very early in the night, not even desiring her more than the once. In fact he could not even be bothered to kill the wretch. She would probably do that herself anyway.
He wanted the one who fought him, the one who resisted. His toraneko.
So he had left the overlord's home in the late hours of the night and took to his black horse. He could have flown, but he needed time to decide what he would do to her. He needed a plan.
She had come into his life by accident. He had been flying on a beautiful night, lit by the moon. He could smell jasmine on the wind. He turned and traced the fragrance through the air. He saw her immediately, standing on the ground. She appeared to be sprinting and taking off, then landing and repeating the movement like a drill. He decided to watch her for a while.
Peasant girls almost never appealed to him. They had little to offer a man of his class. But this one seemed different, and it was only when she flew closer to him did he realise. She was a takokujin.
So when he flew straight at her, knocking her to the ground, he had acted out of opportunity. And he had not been disappointed.
She was fiery, she fought him every moment. In fact, she had gotten away from him when he had planned to keep her for a little while. Flying that night and seeing her had been a happy co-incidence. To make the experience even more beguiling, he discovered she had been wearing a light nightdress under her traveling robes. She had refused to answer him when he asked her why, she had held up her chin and bit down on her lip.
He felt that she had been put there in that moment just for him. A present from Hachiman, the god of war.
As he rode towards her hut, he wondered exactly what it was that he wanted to do. He most certainly did not want to kill her, at least not yet. So he must not get carried away. It was an inspired moment when he had cursed her and he had felt the benefits of his work already. She had clearly been touched by another man. He was connected to her in that way now. Her pain was his pleasure.
So perhaps he would go to her hut, stay the night and see what happened. The idea of a whole night with her wreathing beneath his body filled him with a wild feeling. He burned for her.
He spurred on the black horse, pushing the beast through the night and well into the next day.
He arrived at her hut, and was about to dismount when he felt the approach of another man. He pulled his horse behind a tree and watched as the man came to the door of the hut. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to fly out and cut the man's head cleanly from his shoulders with his katana. He noticed the frame of the man, he was his equal in height and build and he wore a short and long sword. Most certainly a soldier. Better to stay hidden and see what happened. He could always take care of him later.
The man knocked on the door, stood for a moment and then slowly exhaled letting his forehead rest against the heavy wood. He heard him utter, "Gone." Studying this man he realised he was the suitor. He must be, why else would he be so disappointed she was gone?
And before he could remove his sword to take care of it, the man was gone. In fact he did not even see where he went. In a moment of panic he spun around trying to figure out what had happened. Was this some sort of trick? Was this an ambush?
Minutes passed and he was still not sure what had occurred. He was certain of one thing, if he should cross paths with this man again, he would use the upmost caution.
He decided to head toward the village. He would see if anyone knew her whereabouts, and perhaps he would take a local girl to ease his passion. The nobility in this area where known for their hospitality. He would avail himself of what they could offer.
And then he would find her, and make her pay for fleeing. She must learn that he was the master of her now- the shourisha.
He sent a message on the wind I summon you.
He rode a black horse, given to him for his bravery during the war.
He had been a samurai in the cavalry, skilled in both yabusame and the sword. He was one of the few who could ride and shoot a bow, then jump from his horse and fight hand to hand or with his katana. They called him the shourisha because his arrival to the battlefield, no matter how hopeless it was, meant a victory for his side. He seemed to wield some sort of magic.
He was a tall man, over six feet, with large muscular shoulders. He was unlike the other samurai who were shorter, but he had their quickness. And he was a ronin, he answered to no-one. He fought in battle for the sheer glory of killing. Because of his status he was able to move from place to place and no daimyo ever refused him food or shelter.
He was returning from collecting a fee for his services during the war. He had demanded the overlord's daughter together with the fee. She was very pretty, but she was weak and acquiesced to him all too easily. She had cried and begged for mercy. He left her very early in the night, not even desiring her more than the once. In fact he could not even be bothered to kill the wretch. She would probably do that herself anyway.
He wanted the one who fought him, the one who resisted. His toraneko.
So he had left the overlord's home in the late hours of the night and took to his black horse. He could have flown, but he needed time to decide what he would do to her. He needed a plan.
She had come into his life by accident. He had been flying on a beautiful night, lit by the moon. He could smell jasmine on the wind. He turned and traced the fragrance through the air. He saw her immediately, standing on the ground. She appeared to be sprinting and taking off, then landing and repeating the movement like a drill. He decided to watch her for a while.
Peasant girls almost never appealed to him. They had little to offer a man of his class. But this one seemed different, and it was only when she flew closer to him did he realise. She was a takokujin.
So when he flew straight at her, knocking her to the ground, he had acted out of opportunity. And he had not been disappointed.
She was fiery, she fought him every moment. In fact, she had gotten away from him when he had planned to keep her for a little while. Flying that night and seeing her had been a happy co-incidence. To make the experience even more beguiling, he discovered she had been wearing a light nightdress under her traveling robes. She had refused to answer him when he asked her why, she had held up her chin and bit down on her lip.
He felt that she had been put there in that moment just for him. A present from Hachiman, the god of war.
As he rode towards her hut, he wondered exactly what it was that he wanted to do. He most certainly did not want to kill her, at least not yet. So he must not get carried away. It was an inspired moment when he had cursed her and he had felt the benefits of his work already. She had clearly been touched by another man. He was connected to her in that way now. Her pain was his pleasure.
So perhaps he would go to her hut, stay the night and see what happened. The idea of a whole night with her wreathing beneath his body filled him with a wild feeling. He burned for her.
He spurred on the black horse, pushing the beast through the night and well into the next day.
He arrived at her hut, and was about to dismount when he felt the approach of another man. He pulled his horse behind a tree and watched as the man came to the door of the hut. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to fly out and cut the man's head cleanly from his shoulders with his katana. He noticed the frame of the man, he was his equal in height and build and he wore a short and long sword. Most certainly a soldier. Better to stay hidden and see what happened. He could always take care of him later.
The man knocked on the door, stood for a moment and then slowly exhaled letting his forehead rest against the heavy wood. He heard him utter, "Gone." Studying this man he realised he was the suitor. He must be, why else would he be so disappointed she was gone?
And before he could remove his sword to take care of it, the man was gone. In fact he did not even see where he went. In a moment of panic he spun around trying to figure out what had happened. Was this some sort of trick? Was this an ambush?
Minutes passed and he was still not sure what had occurred. He was certain of one thing, if he should cross paths with this man again, he would use the upmost caution.
He decided to head toward the village. He would see if anyone knew her whereabouts, and perhaps he would take a local girl to ease his passion. The nobility in this area where known for their hospitality. He would avail himself of what they could offer.
And then he would find her, and make her pay for fleeing. She must learn that he was the master of her now- the shourisha.
He sent a message on the wind I summon you.
Flight of the Warrior- 6
The first warning
She had flown back to the hut, tears streaming down her face the whole way. She was lost and the man who could help her had thought her a liar. He had tested her. He had been cruel.
She had tried since the attack to balance her reactions to men. They were not all like him. Some were kind and gentle. But here was another example that she should not trust.
She had gone to find him with many questions. Most remained unanswered.
But she had figured out for herself something that had perplexed her. In the trackers presence, particularly when she was close to him, or he touched her, she had felt physically ill and dreadfully lethargic. He was not unattractive, despite his crude approach to her in the marketplace. This had never happened before with any man, and there had been a couple. But then she had not been close to any man since the attack.
At first she thought it to be a lack of courage. But sitting with the tracker around his small fire, she had unwittingly recalled what the man had done and said after he had assaulted her.
She had fought for twenty minutes before he threw her on that boulder. Twenty long minutes, ten of those with her jian. But he had a much longer reach with his katana, and with each block she grew tired. He was so much stronger. The slash down her side had been vicious but precise. She had released her grip on her jian to hold her nightdress together. That was all it took. Laughing at her he was upon her in a second. She had struck him with her fist, and the blow hit home opening the skin above the eye. He had smiled. "Toraneko, I like that."
She had been flung, almost tossed as if she weighed nothing at all face down on the boulder. He had been rough, exceptionally rough, her hip and rib bones grinding into the hard stone. She felt as if she was being ripped apart. When he was done, he turned her over and she thought with horror he was going to do it all over again. He pushed the hair back from her face. She wished he hadn't, it was the only thing between her and those piercing eyes.
They cut her, invaded her soul.
So it was to her surprise that after pushing the hair back from her face that he had kissed her, passionately. "Mine now my little toraneko. No other man can have you." He had said this to her in a coarse whisper, passion filling every word, breathing the hot words into her lungs he was so close. Making it hard for her to hold onto sanity. She felt as if she was slipping into madness. He was branding her. Searing his mark on her.
At the time she thought he had meant that she would never be able to let another man touch her. She would be so harmed when he had finished with her, that she would never be whole again.
After the kiss and his little speech he had hit her hard across the side of the head. She had rolled off the rock and fallen heavily on the ground, so strong was the blow. She had glanced up at him, trying to push herself up onto her feet. She had learned in training that the ground was a bad place to be, she was vulnerable there. But god, he was so strong it seemed to matter little what defensive position she put herself in. He had laughed at her again. And she felt a wave of anger invigorate her. As she stood up she grabbed a rock, a little bigger than her hand, and she threw it hard at his head. She aimed for his nose, figuring if she was off target she might still hit. He saw it, managing to move a little but too late to avoid it all together. She heard a sickening crack as the rock hit his temple. He fell to the ground and she ran fast for her jian that lay on the ground a few feet away, close to her traveling robes. He had grabbed her ankle somehow and dragged her to the ground. She kicked furiously with her free leg. She heard him say over and over "Fight little toraneko". Then somehow she got her ankle free and had the jian in her hand running away from the boulder, from the man who had taken what was not his, as fast as her legs would carry her.
She had been terrified flying away from him. She knew he was the better flyer and hoped that the rock had caused some sort of concussion. She needed some advantage to fall her way. She did not hear him on the wind again that night and made it to safety. She had been taken in by some kind people. They had helped her and she would always be grateful for that. And she had blocked from her memory those words said with such desire, spoken into her soul.
She wiped the tears away from her face and took a deep breath. She was back at her hut now and the painful memories had passed. But the realisation had hit her. She was branded.
It was only when the tracker had asked her about the attack that she had remembered. The kiss had been a curse, if any man came close to her, touched her, she would feel incredibly ill, she would be incapable of reacting to any potential attraction. He had killed that part of her.
She had no idea if he had intended to let her live. Perhaps it was a sick game he wanted to play, take her, curse her and then release her. Let her suffer, knowing that she can never love or be loved by any other man. She would always be his.
And then to come back one day, the tracker certainly thought he would. She sat on her bed trying to calm herself.
He was going to come back to claim what was his. Oh god, she could not go through that again. If the tracker could find her.... she had to leave, and leave now. The sudden urgency of her predicament fired her with action. She had to go.
She packed a few belongings and some food hastily. Her hands shook and she had difficulty putting everything into the small satchel. She almost ran through the door, slamming it behind her. A blast of cold air hit her face, and she felt as if she had been slapped. It stopped her instantly.
It was a warning. This time she felt it with clarity. He is coming for you the wind whispered from the east he rides.
She ran and launched off a small knoll to the side of the hut. She flew low over the valley, then past the small village where she was known, where it was easy for her to be found.
She fled north to the big city, to Tokyo.
She had flown back to the hut, tears streaming down her face the whole way. She was lost and the man who could help her had thought her a liar. He had tested her. He had been cruel.
She had tried since the attack to balance her reactions to men. They were not all like him. Some were kind and gentle. But here was another example that she should not trust.
She had gone to find him with many questions. Most remained unanswered.
But she had figured out for herself something that had perplexed her. In the trackers presence, particularly when she was close to him, or he touched her, she had felt physically ill and dreadfully lethargic. He was not unattractive, despite his crude approach to her in the marketplace. This had never happened before with any man, and there had been a couple. But then she had not been close to any man since the attack.
At first she thought it to be a lack of courage. But sitting with the tracker around his small fire, she had unwittingly recalled what the man had done and said after he had assaulted her.
She had fought for twenty minutes before he threw her on that boulder. Twenty long minutes, ten of those with her jian. But he had a much longer reach with his katana, and with each block she grew tired. He was so much stronger. The slash down her side had been vicious but precise. She had released her grip on her jian to hold her nightdress together. That was all it took. Laughing at her he was upon her in a second. She had struck him with her fist, and the blow hit home opening the skin above the eye. He had smiled. "Toraneko, I like that."
She had been flung, almost tossed as if she weighed nothing at all face down on the boulder. He had been rough, exceptionally rough, her hip and rib bones grinding into the hard stone. She felt as if she was being ripped apart. When he was done, he turned her over and she thought with horror he was going to do it all over again. He pushed the hair back from her face. She wished he hadn't, it was the only thing between her and those piercing eyes.
They cut her, invaded her soul.
So it was to her surprise that after pushing the hair back from her face that he had kissed her, passionately. "Mine now my little toraneko. No other man can have you." He had said this to her in a coarse whisper, passion filling every word, breathing the hot words into her lungs he was so close. Making it hard for her to hold onto sanity. She felt as if she was slipping into madness. He was branding her. Searing his mark on her.
At the time she thought he had meant that she would never be able to let another man touch her. She would be so harmed when he had finished with her, that she would never be whole again.
After the kiss and his little speech he had hit her hard across the side of the head. She had rolled off the rock and fallen heavily on the ground, so strong was the blow. She had glanced up at him, trying to push herself up onto her feet. She had learned in training that the ground was a bad place to be, she was vulnerable there. But god, he was so strong it seemed to matter little what defensive position she put herself in. He had laughed at her again. And she felt a wave of anger invigorate her. As she stood up she grabbed a rock, a little bigger than her hand, and she threw it hard at his head. She aimed for his nose, figuring if she was off target she might still hit. He saw it, managing to move a little but too late to avoid it all together. She heard a sickening crack as the rock hit his temple. He fell to the ground and she ran fast for her jian that lay on the ground a few feet away, close to her traveling robes. He had grabbed her ankle somehow and dragged her to the ground. She kicked furiously with her free leg. She heard him say over and over "Fight little toraneko". Then somehow she got her ankle free and had the jian in her hand running away from the boulder, from the man who had taken what was not his, as fast as her legs would carry her.
She had been terrified flying away from him. She knew he was the better flyer and hoped that the rock had caused some sort of concussion. She needed some advantage to fall her way. She did not hear him on the wind again that night and made it to safety. She had been taken in by some kind people. They had helped her and she would always be grateful for that. And she had blocked from her memory those words said with such desire, spoken into her soul.
She wiped the tears away from her face and took a deep breath. She was back at her hut now and the painful memories had passed. But the realisation had hit her. She was branded.
It was only when the tracker had asked her about the attack that she had remembered. The kiss had been a curse, if any man came close to her, touched her, she would feel incredibly ill, she would be incapable of reacting to any potential attraction. He had killed that part of her.
She had no idea if he had intended to let her live. Perhaps it was a sick game he wanted to play, take her, curse her and then release her. Let her suffer, knowing that she can never love or be loved by any other man. She would always be his.
And then to come back one day, the tracker certainly thought he would. She sat on her bed trying to calm herself.
He was going to come back to claim what was his. Oh god, she could not go through that again. If the tracker could find her.... she had to leave, and leave now. The sudden urgency of her predicament fired her with action. She had to go.
She packed a few belongings and some food hastily. Her hands shook and she had difficulty putting everything into the small satchel. She almost ran through the door, slamming it behind her. A blast of cold air hit her face, and she felt as if she had been slapped. It stopped her instantly.
It was a warning. This time she felt it with clarity. He is coming for you the wind whispered from the east he rides.
She ran and launched off a small knoll to the side of the hut. She flew low over the valley, then past the small village where she was known, where it was easy for her to be found.
She fled north to the big city, to Tokyo.
March 01, 2010
Flight of the Warrior- 5
Following the trail
He decided to have more tea rather than go after her. She was willful, and when angry unlikely to be forthcoming with any further information. Perhaps he would go to her hut later. When she had calmed down.
He sat down wearily. The night had been cold and he had received many messages on the wind. Both had conspired to keep him awake for most of the night.
The tea was hot and revived him somewhat. He decided to go over what he knew already.
His employer was a daimyo of the north islands and had risen to power and wealth after the Ōnin war. He had been called to the house two hours after the wife's death. Deep with grief his employer had the composure to leave everything as it had been found. She was beautiful even though her attacker had disfigured her horribly. Slashes like the one he had felt on the girl's side where everywhere on her body, but always north south. The blade puncturing the skin and dragged down in a whip like action, the middle of the wound deepest. The exit point was ragged as if the blade was twisted purposefully as a final insult to the skin. He had felt the woman's wounds and committed to memory the vibration of the blade that had caused such damage. At that point he did not know the murderer's name.
Finn had been an outsider, originally from Europe born from an affair his Nordic mother had sworn she would never speak about. When she was dying he had begged her to say his father's name. She refused. So he decided to travel, to find a place he belonged. He had gone first to Russia, across Mongolia to central China, then the Korean peninsula to seek work. He had found his skill as a tracker and after the war sailed to Japan lured by the possibility of becoming a sabarau. He had found that tracking was more lucrative, and he liked the idea of being anonymous.
It had been six weeks since he had stood in that room with the lifeless body. It was obvious she had been raped, held captive for many hours, tortured and finally killed. The murderer had disappeared without a trace until he had heard a rumour. Further in the mountainous South, a young woman, a westerner, was said to have come to the house of the local nobility, where she had asked if she could be sheltered for the night. She had been wearing a light nightdress that had been slashed down the side. Barefoot and bleeding she had been taken into the servant's quarters. She had a long wound where her nightdress had been opened, clearly made by a sword. The family physician had attended to her. She would not say who had attacked her, and left two days later before she was fully healed. When Finn spoke to the physician he had been almost secretive about the treatment provided and the conversations he had with the young lady. He would only say she should have stayed longer, and that the servants had supplied her with some clothes, food and he had given her a small amount of money. Then she had left. The physician said she was heading further South. Finn knew he was lying, he could feel the discord on the man's breath. She had left quite a mark on the old man, she was obviously beautiful for him to protect her like that. Perhaps she had bewitched him.
He had asked some discreet questions about a red headed woman, a takokujin. She had gone XX he heard. And he had been lucky. Passing through a village, eager to find food, he had discovered the place alive with trade. Once a week farmers from the flat lands came up to the foothills to sell their produce. He was sitting on the shingle roof of a dwelling when he had seen her move through the crowded stalls. He noticed that she kept her hood on, said very little to anyone, and bought only a couple of items. She was taller than the other women and not as slight but she walked with grace. Pride he thought. He had followed her for a week, been to her home, a single roomed hut barely space for sleeping quarters and a hearth. On the side of a hill about three miles from the village, she was alone and he felt, dangerously unprotected.
It was then he had heard whispers of other attacks and he had traveled back to the city. What he was told unsettled him. This man had murdered before the daimyo's wife. Three times before in fact. And once after. Five bodies all women of great beauty, and only the red haired takokujin alive to speak of the attack, to identify the man. She was his sixth victim. There were likely to be more.
He felt sure he would come back to her. She was unfinished business. He was sure this man would protect his anonymity, and Finn knew a little something about that. The murderer was clever in that he had not been seen entering or leaving the homes of the women he killed. All had been heavily guarded by trained men, experienced soldiers. All dead. No one had heard a sound. He had checked and the women all had their tongues, they had not been cut out. There was no sign of a mouth gag or bondage of any kind. There were marks on the wife where a strong hand had held and bruised her wrists, arms, upper thighs. But how had he done all that without them at least crying out?
In the city and some of the larger villages of the North they had named this man the kage, the shadow. Perhaps by now there were others tracking the kage. It was possible.
He kept coming back to the young woman. She would be able to tell him what he needed to know. Perhaps he could even save her? But he tried to brush away that thought. He was not a hero and his life would be complicated if he was weighed down by obligations other than that of his employer.
He had also seen she was not defenseless. She was lightening quick with her sword and she could fly. But he knew she stood little chance. He had killed samurai, men of the sword. All she had was a shorter jian probably light, and a hand dagger. She didn't stand much of a chance. If Finn could find her this easily, the kage could as well.
He decided he would need to speak with her again. He had to explain why he had touched her. She could be angry if she liked.
But he would keep the rest to himself- why he had turned from her so quickly without a word and sped away. He was not sure what he would do with those thoughts. He would deal with that later. He would see his favourite in the city and she would erase all memory of the green eyes and the skin beneath the silk.
So he went to the small hut on the side of the hill. He knocked politely, but knew as soon as he touched the wood of the door she had gone.
Yes, he had handled things very badly indeed.
He decided to have more tea rather than go after her. She was willful, and when angry unlikely to be forthcoming with any further information. Perhaps he would go to her hut later. When she had calmed down.
He sat down wearily. The night had been cold and he had received many messages on the wind. Both had conspired to keep him awake for most of the night.
The tea was hot and revived him somewhat. He decided to go over what he knew already.
His employer was a daimyo of the north islands and had risen to power and wealth after the Ōnin war. He had been called to the house two hours after the wife's death. Deep with grief his employer had the composure to leave everything as it had been found. She was beautiful even though her attacker had disfigured her horribly. Slashes like the one he had felt on the girl's side where everywhere on her body, but always north south. The blade puncturing the skin and dragged down in a whip like action, the middle of the wound deepest. The exit point was ragged as if the blade was twisted purposefully as a final insult to the skin. He had felt the woman's wounds and committed to memory the vibration of the blade that had caused such damage. At that point he did not know the murderer's name.
Finn had been an outsider, originally from Europe born from an affair his Nordic mother had sworn she would never speak about. When she was dying he had begged her to say his father's name. She refused. So he decided to travel, to find a place he belonged. He had gone first to Russia, across Mongolia to central China, then the Korean peninsula to seek work. He had found his skill as a tracker and after the war sailed to Japan lured by the possibility of becoming a sabarau. He had found that tracking was more lucrative, and he liked the idea of being anonymous.
It had been six weeks since he had stood in that room with the lifeless body. It was obvious she had been raped, held captive for many hours, tortured and finally killed. The murderer had disappeared without a trace until he had heard a rumour. Further in the mountainous South, a young woman, a westerner, was said to have come to the house of the local nobility, where she had asked if she could be sheltered for the night. She had been wearing a light nightdress that had been slashed down the side. Barefoot and bleeding she had been taken into the servant's quarters. She had a long wound where her nightdress had been opened, clearly made by a sword. The family physician had attended to her. She would not say who had attacked her, and left two days later before she was fully healed. When Finn spoke to the physician he had been almost secretive about the treatment provided and the conversations he had with the young lady. He would only say she should have stayed longer, and that the servants had supplied her with some clothes, food and he had given her a small amount of money. Then she had left. The physician said she was heading further South. Finn knew he was lying, he could feel the discord on the man's breath. She had left quite a mark on the old man, she was obviously beautiful for him to protect her like that. Perhaps she had bewitched him.
He had asked some discreet questions about a red headed woman, a takokujin. She had gone XX he heard. And he had been lucky. Passing through a village, eager to find food, he had discovered the place alive with trade. Once a week farmers from the flat lands came up to the foothills to sell their produce. He was sitting on the shingle roof of a dwelling when he had seen her move through the crowded stalls. He noticed that she kept her hood on, said very little to anyone, and bought only a couple of items. She was taller than the other women and not as slight but she walked with grace. Pride he thought. He had followed her for a week, been to her home, a single roomed hut barely space for sleeping quarters and a hearth. On the side of a hill about three miles from the village, she was alone and he felt, dangerously unprotected.
It was then he had heard whispers of other attacks and he had traveled back to the city. What he was told unsettled him. This man had murdered before the daimyo's wife. Three times before in fact. And once after. Five bodies all women of great beauty, and only the red haired takokujin alive to speak of the attack, to identify the man. She was his sixth victim. There were likely to be more.
He felt sure he would come back to her. She was unfinished business. He was sure this man would protect his anonymity, and Finn knew a little something about that. The murderer was clever in that he had not been seen entering or leaving the homes of the women he killed. All had been heavily guarded by trained men, experienced soldiers. All dead. No one had heard a sound. He had checked and the women all had their tongues, they had not been cut out. There was no sign of a mouth gag or bondage of any kind. There were marks on the wife where a strong hand had held and bruised her wrists, arms, upper thighs. But how had he done all that without them at least crying out?
In the city and some of the larger villages of the North they had named this man the kage, the shadow. Perhaps by now there were others tracking the kage. It was possible.
He kept coming back to the young woman. She would be able to tell him what he needed to know. Perhaps he could even save her? But he tried to brush away that thought. He was not a hero and his life would be complicated if he was weighed down by obligations other than that of his employer.
He had also seen she was not defenseless. She was lightening quick with her sword and she could fly. But he knew she stood little chance. He had killed samurai, men of the sword. All she had was a shorter jian probably light, and a hand dagger. She didn't stand much of a chance. If Finn could find her this easily, the kage could as well.
He decided he would need to speak with her again. He had to explain why he had touched her. She could be angry if she liked.
But he would keep the rest to himself- why he had turned from her so quickly without a word and sped away. He was not sure what he would do with those thoughts. He would deal with that later. He would see his favourite in the city and she would erase all memory of the green eyes and the skin beneath the silk.
So he went to the small hut on the side of the hill. He knocked politely, but knew as soon as he touched the wood of the door she had gone.
Yes, he had handled things very badly indeed.
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