by Alex Archer
He frowned. “Your impatience almost cost us this yesterday. Let’s not make that mistake again.”
“Trust me.”
Nezuma cut the phone off and slid the BMW into gear. He rolled down the street slowly and then pulled over by the corner, idling.
Behind him now, Shuko still showed no interest in either the party she was tailing or the car that Nezuma sat in. He glanced down the street and could see Kennichi and Creed hailing a taxi.
Shuko slid into the front seat. “There they go.”
Nezuma pulled out and into the traffic slipstream. The taxi cut down a side street. Nezuma frowned. “I don’t like this.”
“You think he’s directing the driver?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Nezuma pointed. “You see? He just had him pull over and idle for a moment.” Nezuma drove past the street and then took the next option left.
“You know your way around Ueno?” Shuko seemed surprised.
Nezuma smiled. “I’ve been here a number of times. Each one ended worse than the previous trip. Nothing but endless frustration in my search for the dorje.”
“So you suspected that it was hidden somewhere in Iga?”
“Suspicions,” Nezuma said, “are at best worse than assumptions. But yes, I suspected it. And I spent long hours up in those mountains looking and trying to find anyone who could help me uncover where it might be.”
“And now we’re back here again.”
Nezuma frowned. “This is not a sweet homecoming, either. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I abhor Iga and what it represents. The fact that ninja used to flourish in this geographical location leaves me nauseous.”
“Why do you hate them so much?” Shuko asked.
“Because they are the antithesis of what true Bushido stands for. Ninja operate outside the law of moral conduct.”
Shuko looked at him. “Master…”
Nezuma smiled. “I know, I’m stretching things a bit, aren’t I?”
“Just a bit.”
He nodded. “When my ancestor gave them the dorje, he was bestowing a tremendous honor upon them. And I feel like they spit it back in his face by relinquishing their responsibility to care for it properly. It’s almost as if the ninja themselves knew what they were capable of and that the dorje couldn’t be expected to survive their natural greed.”
Shuko pointed. “The taxi has moved.”
Nezuma waited for it to pass by. “It helps knowing the streets of the town, though.”
“Does that knowledge extend into the mountains, as well?” Shuko asked.
“Yes. It does.”
She smiled. “Good. Because I think that’s where we’re headed next.”
27
“The air smells like incense here.”
Ken nodded as they stood at the trailhead strapping on their packs. “I think it’s hibiscus. But I’m not a horticulturalist.”
Annja adjusted the shoulder straps and winced. “Hopefully this won’t give me any trouble.”
“It still hurts?”
“Somewhat. The massage you gave me in the cab made it feel better. But I’m not sure how it will hold up once we get moving.”
“You should have let me talk you into seeing a doctor. Your health is more important than the vajra.”
Annja smiled. “I appreciate the concern, Ken, but it’s okay. Really. And who knows, the straps might restrict the blood flow enough that it actually dulls the pain.”
“Only until you take the pack off later. At that point it might make the pain even more intense. You might not get any rest, and that will affect your ability to navigate the trail. Or…” His voice trailed off.
“Handle any trouble that happens to come our way?”
Ken started to say something but then just shook his head.
Annja shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens. But in case you were wondering, I can still get to the sword.”
“I thought we weren’t talking about that.”
“We’re not.”
Ken finished lacing up his boots and stood. “Are you ready?”
Annja jumped once and settled the pack on her shoulders. “Yeah. Let’s get going. I’m anxious to see the mountains.”
Ken took the lead. Annja found the trail easy to follow, mostly having been cleared of obstructions and lined with gravel in places. Their boots crunched over the ground for about a mile, gradually sloping upward at twenty degrees.
Ken pointed. “We’re bushwhacking from here. The trail is not what we want to follow beyond this point.”
“Okay,” Annja said uncertainly.
He glanced at her. “You okay?”
“Shoulder’s great,” Annja said, Even though she could feel it throbbing under the padded straps of her backpack.
Ken cocked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else.
Annja followed him into the brush. “Don’t you want a compass?”
“Don’t need one. The map that Taka showed us was extremely specific. We took the trail to this point and now I know where we’re going for the rest of the way.”
“I’m glad you do, because I already forgot,” she said.
Ken nodded and held up a small piece of paper. “Yeah, well, I also made notes.”
“Cheater.”
“Absolutely.”
They moved through the woods, dodging the upturned logs and the roots sticking out like prehistoric dinosaurs. Vines stretched across the forest floor, and twice Annja almost lost her footing, only to have to right herself with her bad arm. Each time, she winced but fought through the pain.
Ken kept a steady pace but it wasn’t particularly taxing. Still, by the middle of the afternoon, it didn’t feel to Annja as though they’d made much progress. The upward slope had been constant, though, and Annja could see they’d risen in altitude a fair amount.
“How high up are we now?”
Ken shook his head. “I’m not sure. But I’d guess we’re a good way up. We’ll still be in the tree line for the rest of the trip. It’s not like we’re scaling Everest or anything like that. And the map Taka showed us didn’t indicate a mountaintop monastery.”
“Caves,” Annja said. “We’re looking for caves.”
They pressed on, skirting small mountain ponds and large boulders that seemed tossed up from the depths of the earth itself. They dipped into valleys and found a vague mist that enveloped them only to climb back out into the sunshine.
Overhead, clouds passed over the sun, darkening the entire mountain before slipping aside to let the late-afternoon sun warm them yet again. Annja felt entirely uncomfortable the whole time.
“Is the weather always like this?”
“Unpredictable is how the locals describe it,” Ken said. “They’re not surprised if it snows in the summer and hits eighty in the winter. What with the mountains being here, the temperature fluctuations alone are something of a peculiarity.”
“That’s not the only thing making me uncomfortable,” Annja said.
Ken glanced back. “Your shoulder feeling worse?”
“Well, there’s that, sure.”
“Then you’re talking about the people following us.”
Annja stopped. “You know?”
“Of course. They’ve been with us since we arrived.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
Ken scrambled back down the animal track they’d been walking on and looked at Annja. “I didn’t think I had to, to be honest with you.”
“Why not?”
Ken shrugged. “Because you’ve shown the level of awareness that I would expect keeps you informed about such things. Me saying anything just seemed sort of…redundant.”
“Oh.” Annja frowned. But he was right. She had known there were people following them on the trail. How they were managing to do it without making much noise and still staying on Annja and Ken, she didn’t know, but they were apparently adept at it.
“You think they’re our friends from Ueno Castle?” she asked.
“No doubt.” Ken rubbed Annja’s shoulder. “You sure you can do this?”
“Yes.”
He nodded and turned around, heading back up the way he’d come. As he made his way, he stopped and looked back at Annja. “Have I said thank you yet?”
“For what?”
Ken spread his arms. “For this. You didn’t have to do any of this. But you did anyway. I know it’s a bit unlike some of your other relic quests, not as amazing. No dig site or any of that. But I appreciate you being here just the same. I mean that.”
“You’re welcome.” Annja smiled. “Now let’s keep going. I don’t want our friends to get too close. I’m not sure if I feel like fighting them yet.”
“No worries,” Ken said. “We’ll deal with them when we have to and not a minute before.”
Their climb increased and Annja could feel the vague pressure on her lungs as they tried to compensate for the change in altitude. They weren’t extremely high up, but the climbing alone was exhausting her more than she would have expected. She reasoned that with the shoulder injury, she wasn’t in tip-top shape anyway.
The sun started to dip behind the horizon shortly after six. The shadows in the trees seemed to sink toward the ground, elongating on the slope as they climbed using an old trail long since forgotten by all but a select few.
Ken leaned against a giant boulder. “It’s getting late. We’ll need to stop soon. Make camp.”
“What’s your map say?”
He checked it and pointed. “There ought to be a glen of sorts over the next rise. You okay with going a bit more?”
“Sure.”
“You’re a good liar, Annja.”
“Thanks.”
Ken smiled and they moved off again. Annja’s shoulder throbbed mercilessly against the strap of her pack. She could feel the sweat all along her hairline and dripping down her back, making her shirt wet with perspiration.
She pressed on and only after she’d managed to climb over a series of fallen tree trunks did the forest floor suddenly level out.
“At last.”
Tall pines stretched overhead, and the ground was littered with the soft needles of their growth. Annja stumbled down into the glen, following after Ken, who was heading somewhere.
And then Annja heard it, too.
Water.
They’d been drinking throughout the hike, so they certainly weren’t dehydrated. And yet Annja found herself drawn to the sound of the water, possibly because it seemed so out of place this high in the mountains.
“What is it?” she asked.
But Ken didn’t seem to hear her. He kept walking toward the sound. And Annja chased after him, not sure if he would stop close by and she could dump her pack, even though she desperately wanted to.
“Hello?”
Ken vanished over a slight rise and Annja followed.
She stopped on the other side.
“My god.”
A towering waterfall cascaded down from a height of hundreds of feet above them. The water spilled out of the rock worn smooth by centuries of water pouring over it.
“I’ve heard the mountains up here held treasures like this,” Ken said. “I don’t know if I ever expected to see it firsthand.”
“Are we camping here?”
He glanced at her. “Yes.”
“Thank god.” Annja slumped to the ground and released the tabs on her straps. Instantly, the weight vanished from her back and shoulders.
But the pain jumped into her shoulder, causing her to grimace. “Damn.”
Ken noticed and squatted next to her. “Is it bad?”
“It’s not good.”
“Let me see it.”
Annja frowned but unbuttoned her shirt and slid out of it. It felt strange not being dressed in front of him.
Ken’s hands felt warm on her skin. He pressed in and she jumped.
“That hurts?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He nodded. “It might be your rotator cuff. Something like this could really lay you up for a good bit of time. Are you sure you don’t want to go see a doctor?”
Annja laughed. “Not exactly a good time for us to debate this, is it?”
“I suppose not.”
“It’ll be dark soon. Our best bet is to stay here and make camp like you said. I can get some food and sleep and see if things improve in the morning,” she said.
“And if they don’t?”
Annja laughed. “Knowing how stubborn I am, I’ll probably insist I’m fine and that we should continue.”
“And should we?”
She looked at him. “I know how much this means to you.”
“You mean quite a bit to me, too, Annja.”
His hands were still on her shoulder, kneading and massaging. She could feel their warmth seeping into her muscles. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. “That feels good.”
“I’m glad I can help you,” Ken said. His voice seemed thicker and closer now.
Annja suddenly snapped her eyes open and started putting her shirt back on. “I think that’s good.” She nodded. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
Ken stood. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m good. Really good.” She finished buttoning her shirt and then busied herself with her backpack. “So, do we get the tent up or what? What about the people following us?”
“They want the vajra,” Ken said. “I don’t think we need to worry about them for now.”
Somehow, Annja had a sense that Ken was right. They were not in any imminent danger.
“We can do that,” Ken said. “Or we could just sleep out under the stars. Seems like it might be a nice night for it.”
“It might be a little cold.”
“We’ll have a nice fire,” Ken said. “And we can pack the sleeping bags with pine needles for extra warmth.”
“All right.”
“You leave the cooking to me,” Ken said. “I want you to rest. All right?”
“All right, but you should know something about me.”
Ken stopped and looked at her. “What?”
“I’m really fussy about how I eat my canned ravioli.”
28
“It really is beautiful here,” Annja said after they’d eaten dinner. She sat on her sleeping bag, which was placed atop a thick bed of pine needles. The fire spit and hissed nearby, sending warmth out into the cool night. The combination of solid food, scent of pine and the radiating heat of the fire had dulled the pain in her shoulder. But only a little.
Ken looked at her in the twinkling firelight. “Places like this are very special when you find them, especially more or less by accident.”
“How so?”
He shrugged. “Acolytes journey to areas like this to test themselves. The sheer power of the waterfall is enough to both inspire and terrify.”
“What makes it scary?”
Ken smiled. “Would you take off your clothes, wade out into the freezing waters, and meditate while the waterfall crashed down on you?”
“I’m not an acolyte,” Annja said.
“Perhaps,” Ken replied. “But you don’t necessarily have to take religious vows to seek spiritual enlightenment. Many people opt to find their own way to such ideals through processes similar to those following a traditional path. This waterfall might be one of them.”
Annja looked at the wall of water cascading down from high above them. The bank they had chosen to camp on was a good two hundred yards away, and the resulting spray of water hitting the rocks below didn’t reach them. But the constant roar echoed all around them. She realized they wouldn’t hear anyone approaching their camp. But then again, no one would hear them over the din of the waterfall.
“I wonder how they stand it.”
“The water?” Ken grinned. “I’m still trying to figure out how I did it.”
“You’ve done it?” Annja eyed him. “You�
��ve actually meditated under a waterfall?”
“Well, not this waterfall, but yeah. I did. I took part in some shugenja endurance testings.”
“Shugenja?”
“Another sect of ascetics seeking enlightenment. Their plan for ridding personal demons is pretty intense. One of them is to submerge in a freezing pool of cold water, or else endure the cold phase by meditating under a waterfall.”
“And they just let you partake in that?”
Ken shrugged. “I’d been observing them and they asked if I wanted to join them in their ‘fun,’ I think the head guy called it.”
“And you did.”
“Well,” Ken said, “his tone was very mocking.”
Annja grinned. “What did you think?”
“Honestly? At first I thought my testicles were going to be the size of raisins when I was finished. And not good-sized raisins, either. I mean really tiny, tiny raisins.”
Annja held up her hand. “I get it.”
“But you know, after I was in there and trying to calm myself down, relax my heartbeat, breathe, meditate, that kind of thing, I actually found that it wasn’t so bad. Somehow, my body adjusted itself because of how I controlled my mind.” He frowned. “I think that’s the thing so many people forget these days. The mind controls the body, not vice versa. Anything really is possible if you believe in it hard enough. We create our own reality every day, but most of us just don’t realize it.”
Annja leaned back on her good arm. “You might have another career as a New Age guru.”
Ken shook his head. “I’m not interested in leading a group of people who are, by and large, already more lost than everyday people.”
“Sounds like you just lost your flock there, buddy.”
Ken smirked. “My flock.” He shook his head. “That’s the whole problem right there. People—doesn’t matter who they are—for some reason seem to feel this unbelievable need to have others worship them or be seen in a position of power. It’s all based in a terrible insecurity they have with themselves. And rather than face their insecurities head-on and actually transform themselves into someone capable of incredible power and potential, they run from the challenge. They become supposed teachers more capable of pointing out everyone else’s faults than they are at living a productive life fully in charge of themselves.”
