by Ryan Kirk
Even with her sense extended as far as she could push it she couldn’t sense a single human life. When she finally reached the first buildings, she was convinced the city was completely abandoned. She paused to examine the structures. They were made from the long grass of the plains, woven together in a particular pattern she couldn’t hope to imitate. She tested the walls. They were solid, and they would hold up against casual sword strikes. The roof was made using the same techniques. The building would provide reliable shelter. There was no reason to abandon it.
She stepped inside the first building, sword ready to jump out of its sheath. It was barren. Clean. Spotless.
There was evidence of life. There was a fire circle with dead coals within it. But there wasn’t any sign of recent habitation, or any evidence to suggest the occupants had to leave in a hurry. The dirt floor was swept clean and there wasn’t a pot, pan, or utensil anywhere to be found.
With a growing sense of unease, Moriko examined a few of the other buildings. Every one was identically barren. Some of the buildings were larger than others and seemed built to be common rooms, but they, too, were meticulously cleaned.
Moriko wandered aimlessly through the city, following a path that generally led south. The buildings were evenly spaced, but the city’s design didn’t follow the square patterns that were traditional in the Three Kingdoms. There wasn’t any main street, just a number of smaller paths wandering between the buildings. Moriko thought it would be easier to march an army around the city than try to get one through it.
Halfway through the city, Moriko was starting to question her sanity. Perhaps she had been out on the plains too long. Perhaps this was some sort of dream she couldn’t wake up from. A half moon of barren plains followed by an empty city? Her mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening, and she was beginning to fear what she didn’t know. She had hoped there would be supplies, but every place she tried was as barren as the last. Her stores were running low, and she worried she would die in this empty sea of grass.
When she reached the end of the city, her mind was reeling. No one. The city was as empty as the prairie that surrounded it. She found the trail heading south again easily enough. But she hesitated to take the first steps. She glanced longingly back to the north.
Moriko missed the Southern Kingdom. She ached for Ryuu’s embrace and constant attention. She wanted to be back among the old woods, basking in the shade of trees that made human lifespans pale in comparison, dipping her feet in the cool stream that ran near the hut. But there was no way back, not now. The only way was forward. With an exceptional effort, she turned back to the south and scanned the ground in front of her.
She didn’t camp overnight in the city. She wandered south until it was shimmering behind her in the sunset. Only then did she feel comfortable lying down for the night.
Moriko awoke the next morning to the light pressure of another on her sense. It was a delicate brush of sensation, one she doubted when she first felt it. It had been so long since she had sensed another human, she almost doubted her abilities. But the sensation was there, constant, coming closer.
Moriko’s first reaction was to go back to sleep. She was laying in the tall grass and there was no way anyone could discover her. They would have to ride or walk within five paces of her to see her, and even then would only find her if they happened to look down. There were plenty of horrible things one could say about the prairie, but it was easy to hide in.
But then she sensed something she hadn’t encountered since the day she left Ryuu. She felt the tendrils of the sense spreading out from the person. Down here in Azaria that could only mean one thing: There was a hunter out there.
Once the realization struck, Moriko came fully awake. She focused her sense and scanned the area all around her. As far as she could tell, she was alone with the hunter. It was both a relief and a terror. If not for Ryuu, the last hunter she had encountered would have killed her. One was dangerous enough. Moriko suppressed her presence, preparing to ambush the hunter. He was still dozens of paces away and Moriko was certain he hadn’t found her yet.
Then Moriko rethought her strategy. She was out in the middle of nowhere. She hadn’t seen a living soul for days, even though she had passed through a city. Her food was running dangerously low, and she had no idea which direction she should be heading. If she could get captured, it would solve a lot of her problems. It was a strategy that carried a fair amount of risk. There was no guarantee the hunter wouldn’t just kill her. But she was becoming more and more certain she couldn’t survive in this land without help.
Moriko found a pose that allowed her to draw her sword in case of emergency, but she lay back down in the grass and pretended to be sleeping. As the hunter continued to approach her location, Moriko gradually opened up her presence. After cycles of practice, suppressing her energy had become almost as natural as breathing. Letting go of the ability was like throwing off a cloak in the biting wind. She felt bare and exposed.
As she had expected, the hunter turned towards her energy. Moriko fought off the urge to tense her body in preparation for combat. He had to think she was asleep.
Each breath passed with agonizing slowness. The hunter was nothing if not patient, and he must have suspected a trap. He got to within a few paces of her and then waited, his own sense expanding around them both, searching for anything he might have missed. Moriko forced herself to stillness, staying deep within herself. The hunter drew his sword and Moriko almost lost control. She wanted to get up, wanted to fight. But she lay there, open to attack. Her mind ran in a circle, wondering if he would go straight for a killing blow or would try to capture her. His posture gave no indication, and Moriko suspected the hunter was trying to make the same decision. She forced herself to breathe normally, wondering if she would be fast enough if he decided to strike.
When he made his move, it was smooth and controlled. Moriko opened her eyes to the touch of his steel on her neck. She suppressed the urge to laugh. He had taken the bait. She would live to fight another day. She stood up, her arms raised in a gesture of surrender as he took her blade from her. It made her feel even more naked than before, but there was nothing to do about it. As he stepped back she got her first good look at him.
He was a tall man, much thinner than the two men who had attacked her and Ryuu at their cabin. He had a lean musculature indicating plenty of strength, but not an ounce of fat on him. His hair was dark, long, and disheveled, as were his clothes. But Moriko didn’t have the discipline to pay attention to the details. She only saw two characteristics. He was missing his right arm, and his left held a sword identical to the one that had almost taken her life two moons ago.
The hunter continued to search her, finding the throwing knives she had on her forearms. He searched through her sack, finding nothing of interest. Moriko was grateful his search wasn’t too thorough. She had several blades strapped to her inner thighs as well. Content, the hunter stepped back and looked at her.
“You are my prisoner.”
There was something off, something clawing at her attention she couldn’t put her finger on. When it came to her, she felt foolish for not having recognized it earlier. “You speak our language.”
“We all do.”
Moriko’s mind reeled. There were maybe only a few people in all the Three Kingdoms who spoke Azarian. How was it they all spoke the language of the Three Kingdoms? Her mind tried to find answers, but the hunter kept pressing the conversation forward.
“You are my prisoner.”
Moriko nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you promise not to try to escape? Do I have your word?”
Moriko frowned. It seemed like an odd question to ask. She promised she wouldn’t try to escape. Her thoughts flashed to Ryuu for a moment. Knowing him, he’d actually follow through on his promise. But they were only words. She only planned on holding to them as long as they served her.
“Good. Let’s go.”
As far as captive
experiences went, Moriko figured it could be a lot worse. The hunter made no attempt to bind her arms or legs. He just led the way and expected for her to follow. Moriko shrugged and followed his lead, a prisoner in a land far, far away from home.
11
The island grew larger and larger. Ryuu was amazed by the size of it. When he listened to Shigeru’s story, he had pictured a smaller island. He had thought it must be small to hide from the ships that traveled these waters. There weren’t many who dared the open seas, even in summer, but there were enough that Ryuu had assumed the only way the island could stay undiscovered by the Three Kingdoms was due to its small size. He realized the error of his assumption. The island was safe for two reasons. First, it was far to the north of the Three Kingdoms. They’d been sailing for over a day, and from what Ryuu understood, few traders traveled north from port. Most went east or west. Second was the geography of the island. Ryuu was stunned by the sheer height of the place. It rose, a single sheer tower in the middle of the ocean.
Ryuu was capable of climbing. He and Shigeru had often climbed trees out in the forest, and he had grown up with no fear of heights, but he also knew that his odds of climbing up those walls without assistance were next to zero. As they got closer, Ryuu looked for a path or a landing area, but no matter how hard he squinted he wasn’t able to make out a safe landing or a path to the top. For a moment, he doubted this island was their destination. But when he saw the faces of the crew he knew he wasn’t wrong. They were looking at their home.
They were still hundreds of paces out when the ship made a course adjustment and started to circle around the island. Ryuu figured it would only be a matter of time before he saw the harbor they were making for, but again he was wrong. As far as they traveled, nothing appeared to him. They continued to sail around while Ryuu looked for the harbor. He was looking so hard for the inlet that he didn’t notice they were approaching the island until he looked up and saw it towering over him. Except for a few details, the intimidating rock face seemed the same no matter how far they sailed. Ryuu realized he didn’t even know how far around the island they had come. His sense of direction was confused. He looked at the sun, only to realize it had disappeared behind heavy clouds.
The captain saw Ryuu’s glance. “Storm coming in. We should be in before it hits.”
Ryuu nodded, still not able to make out what they were approaching. The captain had turned straight towards the island, and Ryuu saw nothing but solid rock in front of them.
The bow of the ship rushed towards the rock and Ryuu was afraid they were going to strike the face. He glanced around, but the crew all seemed calm, and some even seemed to be having some enjoyment at his expense. He took a deep breath and focused himself. A whole crew of men wouldn’t commit suicide out on the ocean just to kill him. They were taking him to the island as promised. He just had to trust them.
At the last moment, the ship turned hard and brought in its sails. It was only then, with the rock face just a handful of paces from the ship, that Ryuu saw a small cut in the rock. It was narrow, leaving only a pace or two of distance on each side of the ship as she turned in, carried by her momentum. Ryuu nodded in sudden understanding. The hole was too narrow for oars, so the ship had to build up momentum, make the turn, and glide into a hole almost invisible to all. It was only from a certain angle that the entrance could be seen. Even if it could be seen, it was too small to allow large ships. It was, in short, a perfectly defensible position, and that was if someone even managed to find it. Ryuu was certain it would take him days of sailing around the island, even knowing it was there, and even then he wasn’t sure he’d see it. It was no wonder the nightblades had remained hidden for all these cycles.
The ship pulled into a small cave. It docked next to one other small ship, which Ryuu assumed was the only other way off this island. He took note of it, but knew it would do him little good. He was a man who had grown up in mountains and trees. He didn’t know how to sail. If he had to leave in a hurry, he’d have to figure that challenge out.
The cave was lit with a number of torches, and the ship was greeted warmly by the guards who stood at the docks. Ryuu saw there was only one path out of the cave, again a very defensible position.
The nightblades Ryuu had fought on the docks joined those who were guarding the cave. Ryuu tensed. He wouldn’t be able to fight four nightblades. At least, he didn’t think so. Even if he snapped, he might not have enough strength and speed.
But he didn’t have to worry. They had only been docked for a few moments when an older man came down the path. Ryuu was amazed. He guessed this man had seen sixty cycles, but he moved with a lithe grace that belied his age. Ryuu noticed all these facts, but they weren’t what drew his attention. Instead, he focused on the energy emanating from the man. Even the Abbot from Perseverance paled in comparison to him. The difference was this man controlled it. Ryuu knew he was looking at the most powerful man he had ever seen, even if he was over sixty.
The old man was grinning from ear to ear. “My, my. What have we here? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ryuu. I’m sure you have hundreds of questions, all of which I will answer soon, but first I must insist you complete a task.”
Ryuu was taken completely aback. He wasn’t certain what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. How did the old man know his name?
“What task?”
“Well, as I’m sure you know, this island is one for nightblades, and despite what you may believe, you aren’t a nightblade yet. To be one, you must pass three trials. So, if you wish to stay on this island, I must insist you take the trials immediately.”
“And if I refuse?”
The old man grimaced. “I’m afraid we’ll have to kill you. You understand, of course. We can’t allow word of this island to get out.”
Ryuu was battling his emotions. Too much was happening at once. At first he was angry at being asked to prove himself again, but that thought was followed soon after by real fear. Shigeru hadn’t finished his own training before having to escape the island. What if he wasn’t really a nightblade? Ryuu shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He had to be. It was who he was. He had nothing to fear. “I’ll take your trials.”
The old man grinned. “Excellent! Your first trial is right over there.” He pointed to a wall.
Ryuu looked at the old man, questions written across his face. The old man explained. “Your first trial is to climb the wall. At the top, you’ll find a passage to your second trial. You’ll find them to be self-explanatory.”
Ryuu studied the wall again. On closer inspection, he could see it topped out with a small ledge hidden in the darkness. The wall was easily ten times as tall as Ryuu was. He shrugged. He’d grown up climbing. The wall didn’t look easy, but he was sure he could manage it. He strode towards it, ready to take the first trial towards becoming a nightblade.
Ryuu approached the slab of rock. It was high, but he’d been in trees of the same height. All he needed to do was not fall. He studied the face before he began, noting the cracks and holds where he could place his fingers and toes. There weren’t many holds, but there were enough. He stretched out his forearms and started climbing.
The climb began with a crack running from the floor. Ryuu stuck his hands into the crack and pressed his weight to the side, allowing him to grip the crack. His progress was slow but consistent. He kept his focus on the rock and on his body, ensuring every hold was solid before putting his full weight onto it. When he looked down, he saw he was almost half way up the wall.
He found a place where he could stand on his toes without handholds. Shaking out the tension in his hands, he looked at the last sections of wall and planned out his moves. His hands were getting sweaty against the rock, but there was nothing to be done about it. He wiped them against his robes, but they didn’t stop sweating. He glanced down and saw the eyes of the nightblades watching him. They were impassive, accepting whatever outcome awaited him.
His grip was only
going to get worse, so Ryuu kept climbing. The holds near the top were small, just enough for him to get his fingers over. When he finally heaved himself over the ledge, he lay there for a few moments to catch his breath. The climb had been harder than he’d expected. He glanced at his fingers, bleeding from their abuse against the rock. The skin had torn in the only places he didn’t have callouses.
After a short break, Ryuu looked around. There was a cloth draped over another tunnel. His first trial had been completed, but he had two more to go. He stood up and prepared himself for whatever was next.
Ryuu pulled aside the cloth to search for a torch, but there was none. So it was to be a test in the dark. Ryuu supposed it was understandable. If it was the ability to sense you were testing, you would want to reduce the role of vision as much as possible. Ryuu entered the tunnel.
As he had expected, the path turned completely dark after a dozen paces. Ryuu felt his way along with one hand in front of his face to protect his head and one off to his side, feeling his way along the wall. He let himself stay calmly alert. There was no knowing what was next, so he maintained a slow pace, wary of surprises. He imagined there weren’t any prizes for finishing the fastest.
He lost time as he followed the tunnel. It was man-made, with smooth walls that could never have been created by nature. It was an unreal experience to walk through such complete blackness. He felt like he was moving, but if not for his own sensations, he would have had no evidence to support the claim. He could feel the brush of the smooth, cold rock against his fingers, but that was all. It was the first time he realized how dependent one’s sense of motion was on sight.
The monotony of the hike started to lull him into complacency, and if it hadn’t been for a soft breeze against his skin he might have met his end before he found any answers. The cool air refreshed his awareness, and he knew something was different about his surroundings. He stopped moving and listened, but there was no sound in the caves.
