“I have many enemies.” Well I knew of that fact as it mimicked my own in the central realm.
“So you do understand?”
“What I understand is that if the other half of your soul chooses not to be with you and therefore shuns your protection, then to protect her you must let her go.” I frowned and turned from the treasures my father held dear to look him in the face.
“But you have been trying to…”
“You misunderstand my meaning. Keira did not shun your protection Dominic. She did not shun your heart. She fought for it… now don’t you think it is time to do the same?” He added this last part as he paused at the door before turning from the room to walk back the way we came. I lowered my head to scowl at the floor, taking in everything he had told me. Was it possible that I could better protect Keira with her by my side, than from a distance? But that wasn’t the question that needed answering the most. It was could I really protect her from me?
“Wait, how did you know?” I asked storming back into room and feeling the surge of power as he locked the invisible vault door behind me.
“Know?”
“About my own obsession, about my own room dedicated to Keira’s image?” I said pointing back at my father’s hidden room. I watched a genuine smile curve his lips before he answered with a simple…
“I have met her son, trust me…”
“…I know.”
Chapter 3
Somebody Else?
I watched my father descend the steps and retake his seat on that ostentatious throne of his. Of course he was right, everyone who was ever lucky enough in life to meet Keira instantly knew there was something special about her. There was something that drew you in and captured you. It then held you prisoner and you simply smiled as she unknowingly swallowed the key for the rest of your eternity.
That was her greatest gift and she didn’t even know it. Armies would line up from one smile, ready to fight to keep her safe. She would have the underworld kneeling at her feet with the power of her soul, one that could brighten any dark realm without much thought. And all this power and not one fucking clue!
And she was once mine.
I had to shake my head to hold these thoughts from injecting me with a murderous rage as it usually did. You know not of the treasure you hold when looking into the eyes of true love until those eyes become forever closed to you. If it is true what the poets say, that the eyes are the key to a person’s soul, then looking into one as pure as Keira’s was like being able to gaze through the keyhole to Heaven’s door for a mortal.
“So, my Maru, the question remains…are you really going to trust in the Fates when the Fates not only obviously lied to you but to her as well?” (‘Son’ in Sumerian)
“You know of their lies?” I asked my father after sucking in a defeated breath.
“I do indeed and from the perfectly formed lips of your Electus.” I couldn’t help the growl that sounded at the back of my throat when hearing my father talk of the very same lips I craved like salvation to a dying man. However, my father simply smirked and ran a fingertip across his own lips in order no doubt to goad me further.
“If you want a fight old man then you only need to ask.” I commented dryly knowing my father was good for it, never being one to pass up the chance of a challenging fight.
“But of course my child, if you think it will help.” He lowered his head to me in respect and rose gracefully from his seat. I watched as he held out an arm and nodded in the direction I was to follow. I felt my blood start to heat under my confining skin in anticipation. Yes, this was what I needed, a man who didn’t fear giving me his all. A worthy opponent and one so equally matched to my own skills.
I waited as he approached a pair of double doors and briefly took note of my surroundings. The large open space was sectioned into different areas and each had its own carnal influence. There was a raised platform at waist height that was obviously where he slept. This was a combination of fine silks in the colours of a sunset he never saw and twisted raw iron arms and hands set in crude ways that formed the bed frame.
It was as though medieval England had clashed against an Arabian harem. I rolled my eyes as I turned away and watched as my father pulled both doors back dramatically.
“Ah, now this will do nicely!” He said taking in the room beyond where he stood with his arms outstretched. I shook my head at my father’s theatrics and followed him through to see for myself what the mad King was up to this time.
“Let it be said Father, that your imagination knows no bounds.” I said wryly as I took in the new space.
“What can I say, I felt inspired…it really is a very good movie.” I supressed a groan at his outlandish ways and responded only with a grunt. The room we now stood in was a large hall that had been converted for a short time into a Japanese training room. Of course this one had a few significant twists. For one, it was snowing and covered the ground in a blanket of crisp white that crunched with each step I made.
“Only you could make it snow in Hell.” I commented wryly shaking my head at him. His only reply was to laugh vigorously.
The other aspects of the room included the wall at my back and the one directly opposite me both made from thick dark blocks, reminding me we were still in my father’s castle. The ones at our sides were in keeping with Japanese architecture as the walls were fusuma, a paper and wooden frame that let in lots of light. In this case however, it created a perfect stage for the shadow puppets that were putting on a show behind it.
“I don’t remember that in the movie.” I nodded to the Japanese Demon warriors that were battling it out around the room behind the walls. My father smirked at me before saying,
“So you have seen it?” I merely answered him with a shrug.
“Well, this is my version.” He said before facing the centre of the room and lifting up his arm bringing his outstretched fingers to a fist. I waited knowing this was what was done when bringing forth power from the elements around you and in my father’s case, something volcanic.
I heard the floor groan and split before I saw the cracks emerge. Once again, and something quite common in my father’s presence, was the urge to roll my eyes as I watched the floor open up. A clay furnace then rose from the depths like a sarcophagus on fire.
“A Tatara…? This is your idea of a suitable environment for a fight?” I asked frowning and unable to resist the urge to rub the bridge of my nose in frustration, a habit I had never had the inclination to correct.
“I thought it rather apt as I hear your skills with the Katana are quite legendary.” My father said walking to one side where two long, thin wooden boxes were waiting. I grunted at my father’s twisted logic. Yes, it had to be said that it was in this clay furnace that the combination of iron, sand and the carbon from coal made the right steel known as Tamahagane, one that was needed to make the formidable Samurai. But did it really need to act as centre piece for this momentous event? Granted that there was only one other time I had fought my father and it had also been about a woman back then…
My mother.
“Well, the last time we used Bardiche, so I thought something a little less barbaric this time, don’t you think?” I nodded briefly reminiscing back to that day and how it felt to hold that long poled axe firmly in my hand as it travelled towards my father’s head, his famous smirk wavering just before he dodged the deadly blow.
“Besides, I didn’t think you would object to such a weapon given your acquired skills in the art.”
“I had a good master.” I said, thinking back again on fond memories of blood, sweat and tears of those I was taught to defeat.
“Ah yes, how is Takeshi, still a member of your council I presume?”
“And has been since his rebirth in 1630.” I added as he flipped back the lids of the two boxes that lay situated side by side. He raised his head up and spoke his thoughts,
“You never could let go of the good ones could you…? Enlighten me,
what was he called before his…”
“Grand Master, Miyamoto Musashi.” I answered, interrupting him, letting him know the depth of respect I felt for the man both back when he was human and now as he still stands at my side.
“But of course, ‘men of the waves’, one of the Ronin… pray tell me my son, how did you manage to ensnare him in your powerful clutches?” I growled at his pointless questioning of times long past. Why my father always had this maddening effect on me I couldn’t fathom but I knew it had something to do with his endless questions about my time on the central plane. Curious was too simple a word to describe my fathering blood bearer.
“He committed seppuku at my request.” At this my father smiled, just loving the dark side to any story.
“Oh such loyalty… to fall on one’s sword until disembowelment, I wonder though at their last thoughts.” He said looking thoughtful pushing up his bottom lip momentarily.
“It is part of the Samurai Bushido honour code and one he took gladly knowing what I had in store for him in his next life…now are we going to fight, old man or do you wish me to regale you of all my council’s tales of woe and how they came to be?” I said crossing my arms and leaning back on one of the wooden pillars that were spread out throughout the room.
“Now, now, Dominic there is no need to be so touchy...I brought you in here for a fight and a fight I shall indeed give you!” He finished by throwing me a sword, one he had taken from the box. I caught the sword and for a moment I was stunned at what I now beheld in my grasp.
“This…why, this is a Masamune sword.” I almost stuttered in my awe. I was not lying when I told Keira that day of my passion for collecting weapons.
“It is not only a Masamune sword but the Masamune sword.” My father said in pride causing my head to shoot up from staring at its perfection.
“Surely you jest? It can’t be the…”
“It is the one and only Honjo Masamune.” I couldn’t help but gasp, even though I suspected it the moment my skin made contact.
“So this is where it has been hiding.” My father smirked as he took his own sword and released it slowly from its encasing.
“This is where it is waiting, not hiding.” He counteracted.
“Do you know how long I have been searching for this sword?” I asked him barely concealing my irritation.
“Quite a while, I imagine.”
“You imagine right, now explain yourself!” I snapped.
“Careful Dominic, you are in my domain now and here I rule!” My comeback was a confident smile as I took in the evidence that I’d finally started to crack his armour of indifference.
“Yes and maybe you’re losing your edge.”
“Ah my child, now you start to show your own weakness in your need for this fight…did my soldiers really do so little for you?” He came to stand opposite me and all at once he and I were clothed in Japanese robes better suited for fighting.
“They were nothing, barely even an appetiser.” I responded pulling out my own blade, taking beautiful note of some of the old battle scars the sword held. I grinned bringing it up closer to my face before resting it at my side in a ready stance, thinking it was only to be expected when you were over 700 years old.
We started to circle each other slowly making a meal out of who would be the first to break in battle.
“And your own Samurai?” I asked nodding to his weapon.
“Fudo Masamune and one of the few signed by the man himself.” Again I was impressed. My eyes widened as I realised this fight was more evenly matched in more ways than one.
“My sword’s brother, and no less than two five body blades fighting against each other.” I said referring to the highest measurement that can be considered for such a weapon, as to slice through five bodies in one isn’t an easy feat to accomplish.
“Vincent would be jealous indeed.”
“Now that I would like to see, my Angelic son does tend to keep his emotions in check doesn’t he and so like his mother.” I nodded in agreement and waited for the first move I knew would be not be long in coming.
“Rules still stand, we fight as men.” I said this time making my father roll his eyes.
“Now where is the fun in that exactly?”
“Scared of the challenge Abum?” I answered with a taunting question of my own. (‘Father’ in Sumerian)
“Quaking in my fucking boots!” He mocked before he charged at me just like I knew he would. He ran at me with his sword held high and I saw a flash of the burning rage flare in his eyes as it reflected in his steel. I blocked the attack and the sound of our swords clashing echoed, drowning out the sound of flames crackling from the centre of the room.
I spun on one foot and landed low to the ground holding my blade above me as I fended off another blow. I grinned at the feel of my father’s strength, relishing in it and the feeling of a worthy fight. Normally fighting against those so low beneath my own abilities was nothing more than an annoyance for my wasted time. A mindless chore that required very little thinking but this, well now, this was nothing short of a gift!
I swiped my foot out taking him by surprise and to the floor. I spun back up and attacked the best way that the sword was made for, slashing downwards using brute strength thanks to its curvature shape. My father not surprisingly blocked my attempt at getting at his heart and flipped upwards horizontally, using the motion to push me back with his sword.
I had barely taken a step back and he was once again coming at me. I met him head on and our blades collided. We became locked together with little space between us and our match in strength didn’t go un-noticed.
“How’s your Demon holding up…clawing to break free yet?” He asked pointing out the obvious, that yes, my Demon was riding me hard wanting to take over the fight as was its nature.
“My Demon is lucky enough to have such control in a Master such as I!” I snarled back and pushed harder against his blade. He laughed as I gained one inch at a time, forcing his body to bend backwards.
“My son, the controlled Master indeed…should daddy be proud?” He taunted and my Demon growled at the insult, trying to force its way to the surface. Just before my father’s wish was granted in releasing my Demon, I pushed off his blade and spun catching him at the side, leaving behind a slice of blood.
“At last! Well done my Etlu Maru!” He shouted joyfully and I tried to conceal my shock at finally being able to leave my mark for the first time. Never before had I ever drawn my father’s blood and up until now I wasn’t sure if he was even human enough to bleed after all this time. (‘Warrior son’ in Sumerian)
“I see now that your Grand Master taught you well, which makes me wonder…” He paused as he took further steps backward putting more space between us. I circled around him and swiped my sword forcefully in front of me. My father’s eyes took in the line of his blood that now marked the snow in a sprayed line from my actions.
“You wonder…?” I asked dragging his angry eyes back to my circling form.
“Who would win in a fight between two Grand Masters, as I too was taught by one in the family… tell me, does Takeshi know his father Munisai resides down here?” I didn’t even bother hiding my astonishment and my father used the moment to his advantage.
I found myself near to being overwhelmed from blow after blow of attacks my father rained down on me and only just being able to hold his blade at bay from making deadly contact. I forced myself to snap back from the information I’d just learned and could once again hear my old Master in my head.
‘Attack the arteries here and here’, he would say mock slicing at the inside of my arms and legs. ‘Then go for the engine, for fuel cannot travel the body without its pump’, he would add, while aiming the blade’s tip at my heart.
Finally I used my Master’s old words to centre me enough to regain the upper hand. I watched as my father’s moves became more predictable now that I was accustomed to his style and I waited for just the right move I k
new was coming. So I prompted the action by leading him into a false sense of security and I wasn’t left disappointed.
He played nicely into my hands as I brought him closer into the centre near the furnace. Again Takeshi’s words rang true…‘The best warrior is the one that can turn circumstances to his advantage in a fight and use the elements as an extension of his weapon’.
With this in mind I kept the flames to my back and purposely made a mistake in my defence, letting my father drive me to my knees. The heat at my back felt strangely comforting to my Demon that knew what was coming and I could feel him seep through enough to make me smile.
“Grinning whilst on your knees is a sign of insanity, son.” He said pushing down on my blade that was inches away from my face.
“And you would know!” I said just before I used all of my strength to push up and at the same time caught hold of the end of his sword next to his hands. I locked myself to him and swiftly stood taking him off guard. I then spun around and used my body weight to spin him around and let go, propelling him into the furnace.
He crashed into the centre and split open the clay sending sparks of amber skittering across the snow and into the air like deadly fireflies. A burst of steam clouded the room as heat cooled against the icy floor and momentarily blinded me. I held my arm across my eyes for a few short seconds and waited for the destruction to calm.
I looked amongst the wreckage and quickly noticed a flaming shadow climbing from the piles of glowing steel. I was not surprised to see my father emerging in his true form but I was surprised when he bothered to change back once more. He started his steps as a Demon ruler and finished them jumping down from the remains as a man.
“That wasn’t very sporting of you, Dominic.” He said dusting off the few burning embers that smoked on his shoulders. His attire was nearly completely burnt off but my father never remained dishevelled for long. The material soon started to regrow back into its original form and with an aggravated motion he dug his hand deep into the belly of the broken furnace and retrieved his now glowing sword.
The Pentagram Child: Part 1 (Afterlife Saga Book 5) Page 4
