Ryojin- the Bonded Blade

by Noah Ward

  “They say if you live your life on ‘ifs’ your hair will fall out.”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “I would never be that rude…” Kaz said as she rolled her eyes.

  “I think I should have a sword, just in case. Maybe a bit shorter than yours--but not bonded, of course.”

  Scoffing Kaz pulled the keval to a stop and looked at the girl. Her forehead was drenched in sweat and she was swaying slightly in the saddle. Maybe it was the fire in her eyes that had gotten her all hot and bothered.

  “I’m surprised some girl from the south who’s supposedly lived in some small village knows what a bonded blade looks like, much less a budding warrior.” Kaz said.

  “I do. And I was trained by a great swordsman.”

  “Another uncle? A cousin twice removed?”

  “No! He was a skilled master. He said I was his best apprentice--”

  “I’m not spending aians I don’t have on a sword for a girl that has never killed anyone--”

  “I’ve hunted.”

  “Not the same.” Kaz took her index and forefinger and jabbed them in the girl’s chest. “It is not as easy as it may look. We’re heading to Akimaru and it will be a very uneventful journey. We will stop at the shrine to Minori on the way to rest, and by tomorrow evening we will be there. It will be simple.” She turned around and nudged the keval into motion. “For now, just sit tight and, above all, stay silent.”

  The saddle jerked to the side, preceding a thud on the ground. Kaz’s brow knitted. She turned around to find Shay collapsed on the ground.

  “This? Again?” Kaz sighed.

  12

  As Falcons Fly

  Asami peered from behind the army of trees and into the glade. The mid-morning sun turned the snow into diamonds and the pools of blood into miniature ruby ponds. While not quite the body count of the bandit camp, it seemed her minions had been somewhat overzealous in their execution. Stranger still, none of them appeared to be here.

  Having left her stalker a walk away, choosing to travel the remaining journey on foot to save nearly tripping again in that damn forest, she did not fancy taking a stroll around this area. Huffing, she breached the forest and traipsed into the glade.

  The bodies all remained inert and were covered with a layer of frost. By her reckoning, they had been killed the previous night, and from the information she had received, there were two missing--not counting the two corpses at the shrine.

  As she wandered towards a small cave atop a ridge, the first signs of life came to greet her. Snow crunched from within the cave, followed by a weak murmur and then an anguished moan.

  “What have we here?” Asami said to herself as one of her dolls, the affectionate name bestowed upon her hand-crafted warriors, limped out of the cave with a tall, thin man on a leash.

  The man appeared to have lost his right forearm. A tourniquet had been applied as well as some dirty rags, but there was a high chance the wound would soon become septic and gangrenous. Then he’d die. If Asami could be bothered letting it play out that far.

  The man winced at her, his face warring for paleness with the snow. He collapsed to his knees.

  Asami glanced between the doll and the man. The doll appeared to have sustained an injury to her leg and neck, fairly recently, judging by the rate at which both had healed. Frowning, she ignored the man and inspected the puncture wound on the doll’s neck.

  “Not quite up to speed anymore, are we?” she asked the doll. The creature just focused its stitched, emotionless gaze on her. “Sometimes, I debate whether I should have sewn up your mouths from the start.”

  The man kneeling began murmuring, clutching at his arm.

  “I’ll deal with you in just a moment,” said Asami. She focused on the doll and then placed her hand on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, then exhaled lengthily. “Well, that would explain most of this mess.” Asami let her hand drop by her side. “I hope you don’t think I’ll be giving you a ride on my stalker, dear.” Her eyes fell on the man. She approached him with her hand out.

  “Don’t touch me, fated,” he spat. He shot up, swinging for her.

  Asami shifted her body ever so slightly to dodge the sloppy left hook, then strafed inside his swing. The forefinger and middle finger of her right hand shot out, jabbing him just under the bicep. His arm instantly went limp and fell by his side.

  “And just what did you call me?” she asked. When he gave no response, she booted him in his bloody stump. His cries echoed through the forest. “Fated, was it? You should know we don’t take kindly to that. Let’s try again, shall we? If you behave, you may get to keep that arm.” She glared at the man, who shot back a mixture of fury and horror. “I am…”

  “...Sworn…” he muttered.

  “Much better.” Asami nodded at the doll, who proceeded to hold down the man’s arm while she sat atop his chest. “Now, hold still for a moment and perhaps we can sort out this mess…”

  A life born in poverty...roaming the streets...Goro a father figure despite the occasional beating...affection there, though never shown. Boring; irrelevant. Move forwards. A crossroads. Bloody yet quick. Efficient. The krystallis taken. Onwards. A girl fleeing...A sworn girl fleeing. Asami frowned. The reason he’s missing a limb. A man returns from the forest...kills a few others. Not one of theirs. He takes a keval, chased by the stalkers.

  Asami snatched her tingling hand from the man’s stubbly cheek and wiped it on her robes. She sighed, removed herself from his chest and then stared at the sky. Complications.

  “The same one that bested the others,” Asami remarked as she spared a glance for the doll.

  Shutting her eyes momentarily, she concentrated. Moments later, a falcon squawked before circling above her. It descended fluidly towards the three of them and landed on the doll’s outstretched arm, talons digging into flesh. Its stitched eyes focused on Asami.

  Asami removed two slithers of parchment and scrawled hasty messages on both with her lead stick. After rolling the two pieces of parchment into small cylinders, she popped them into separate tubes attached to the falcon’s leg. A quick flick of her hand sent the falcon on its way.

  “Let’s see if we can rectify this complication,” the woman said to her audience.

  ◆◆◆

  Gin had always wondered what it would be like to fly. There were probably sworn out there who could soar through the skies, though he’d only heard tales. The closest he had come, aside from now, was travelling on an krystallis-powered airship. What an experience that had been. Nothing but a mile of open, nauseating space below--

  Concentrate, Gin.

  The world spun by as he somersaulted through the air. The bandits’ fortress wall, laden with squawking ravens, flew by in a haze before he started to plummet. Below, the gaping void of the valley was poised to devour him. Gin exchanged one final, fleeting glance with the sworn man that had cast him aside like a pebble. He swore he glimpsed a gap-toothed grin.

  The dark rushed to greet him. Gin obliged. He plunged into the shadows, the feat no more dangerous than a light hop into freshly fallen snow. Lucky for Gin, that freakishly strong man probably thought him no more than a pesky kamen well dealt with. Too bad he intended to prove him wrong.

  Melded with the creeping shadows trickling from the fortress walls, he slunk up the black waterfall like an invisible, determined salmon, and observed.

  The man appeared quite pleased with himself, hooting and hollering. However, his celebrations were cut short when the falcon, previously perched atop the dilapidated shack, came swooping down to settle on the ground. The thin man pottered over to it and retrieved a piece of parchment from its leg. Upon reading the message, then eating it, the man set off at quite a clip. Its task complete and with no reply, the falcon bolted into the sky once more.

  While there was still no hard evidence Retsudan’s sworn warriors had visited this place and nothing pointing to the fac
t this man, despite being sworn, belonged to them, Gin had no solid leads. This fleeing, skeletal anomaly hoofing it at quite a punt was all he had to go on, so he began pursuing him.

  Gin could stick to shadowy tributaries easily enough, given the angle of the sun combined with undulating landscape and forest they eventually entered. However, when the man reached a keval a mile or so away from the ex-bandit encampment, his pursuit was delayed. Using his ability for an indeterminable amount of time was reckless. Not to mention the open valleys surrounding the region could leave him stranded. And, yes, while he could move quickly through shadow, he was no match for a keval at full pelt.

  Having noted the direction the man departed off in, Gin slunk through shadow to return to his keval. Little time had passed before he was on the man’s trail. There was nothing much to do now but wait and pray that being launched into a valley was worth the effort.

  13

  A Shogen's Mercy

  Thank the shogens they had finally arrived. The Sea of Spears had a tendency to warp your perception of time and space; compound that with the fact you had a feverish, babbling girl on the back of your keval and the moments seemed to flux between excruciatingly slow and incomprehensibly quick. A turn here--did she go the right way? How long is this? Is that the same clump of bamboo as before?

  Kaz had allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief as she began noticing a greater number of Minori’s effigies and charms the closer she ventured to the temple. Upon cresting a small ridge in the road, night well and truly creeping in, the rising steps had greeted her. The burst of cobbled ground than spawned from the dirt and snow brought with it flapping flags on either side inscribed with various prayers to Minori--mainly focusing on crops, harvest, or healthy births. By their tattered and brown state, they had not been updated in some time.

  At the foot of the stairs stood the first of eight large passage gates, meant to symbolise the eight shogens. Comprised of two straight vertical slabs of wood and one frowning horizontal piece, the gates at this shrine were an emerald green, to symbolise Minori. There were exactly sixty-four steps leading up to the shrine itself, so Kaz tied the keval to one of the many, empty posts at the bottom of the stairs. Its feeding and ministrations would have to wait.

  Shay continued to murmur and sweat as Kaz surmounted the stairs, travelling past the other passage gates as she did so until mercifully reaching the top. The fact the snow had melted and iced over made the journey treacherous. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of dropping the girl, more that she’d have to go all the way back down to retrieve her if she did.

  At the top of stairs, the little army of stone lanterns flanking the pathway ahead offered no light. Even the font where one was supposed to cleanse their hands before venturing further in had iced over. Just over to her right was a small wooden building that would have acted as an office. It was to be her first port of call, but, judging by the torn doors and holes in the roof, it was in no fit state.

  “Shit…” Kaz grumbled to herself. If no one were here, it’d make this whole process a massive pain in the arse.

  As a last ditch effort, she carried onwards, past the prayer board devoid of slips of parchment, and approached the towering doors to the shrine’s hall of worship.

  The building itself had not fallen into disrepair. Three-times the length of the small office she’d passed and on two levels, the shrine, in its heyday, could have comfortably fit several hundred people inside. Now, Kaz figured it’d just be her, the feverish girl, and a family of disgruntled rats.

  Still, she raised her fist and pounded on the sturdy wooden doors regardless. A few chimes hanging from the roof’s supports jingled in the wind. Kaz looked down at the girl in her arms, whose clothes were damp from fever. At this rate, it might be easier just dumping her in the snow…

  Then the door opened just a slither. A burst of warm, spiced air escaped outside. Kaz peered through the gap, finding a pair of glassy eyes focused in her general direction.

  “May I help you, child?” croaked the voice. Though it was dark inside, she could at least decipher that a bosan--a male monk--was the one on the other side of the wood. The murky opals that had replaced his irises told of winters of blindness. The rest of his body was shrouded in darkness.

  “Yes, bosan,” said Kaz and cleared her throat to deliver the relevant request. “I have a girl with a fever. She needs rest and medicine. I request the mercy of the shogen of bountiful harvest, fertile grounds, and rebirth.”

  The old man’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of course, of course,” he said and hastily pushed the massive wooden door open for them.

  Kaz took a step back from the door as the air rushed over them. She stood staring at the slight frame of the bosan in front of her.

  “Is something the matter?” the bosan asked.

  “No,” said Kaz a moment later.

  He ushered them inside. Any bosan of a shrine was obliged to offer aid to those that requested it.

  Kaz obliged an stepped into the worshipping hall. The warm, cloying air was a welcome reprieve from the biting cold, but she knew if she spent too long in here she’d be sweating as much as the girl.

  The pungent scent of incense irritated her nose. The dark wooden floor was barren and wide. Close to the rear of room was a huge effigy of Minori that nearly reached the second-story roof. The forest shogen, mostly depicted as a child, was constructed from innumerable reedy strands of different types of wood. It wore a leafy crown dotted with hundreds of multicoloured flowers and had long ropes wrapped around its neck bedecked with charms. If someone were wayward with a flame this whole shrine would be engulfed in fire. She was surprised it hadn’t happened by now.

  The old bosan favoured a thin, bamboo walking stick and ambled with a slight hunch. He wore the dark robes of his religion and had cropped grey hair. Kaz looked from him to the seemingly empty surroundings. There was a second story to the hall which wrapped around to the left and right. The ground floor had various shuttered rooms on either side, and it was towards one of these rooms the bosan began shuffling towards.

  “I’m used to shrines being somewhat more...frequented,” said Kaz, keeping her distance from the bosan.

  He nodded along. “I’m afraid the rumours that this whole forest is cursed have proved too much for some travellers, especially at this time of the season.” His shoulders sunk a little. “Since Retsudan’s war of unification, we have suffered--” The bosan caught his tongue as he glanced over at Kaz.

  “The truth is not blasphemy, bosan,” she said, looking around. “That much is apparent. But they would leave a blind bosan unaccompanied?”

  He chuckled. “Well, I would like to believe I have survived this many winters with more than the grace of the shogens.”

  “My apologies…” Kaz offered.

  “There is no need to apologise. But I understand your concern. I will not deny these are exceptional times.” The bosan stopped by a thin paper door over to their left and slid it aside. Inside, a small lantern burned and there were a few reed mats covering the floor. In between the beds were shelves stacked with books, and a few scrolls hung from the walls. “My other brothers and sisters have left to try and secure funds so that we may begin rebuilding.” He held out his hand towards one of the mats. Kaz gently laid the girl down. “If their journey proves fruitless…” The words seemed to weigh heavy on him. “We may have to leave.”

  Kaz knelt by Shay and placed the back of her hand against the girl’s temple. Still running a fever.

  “Enough of our troubles,” said the bosan and opened a nearby window to let in the breeze. “Let me fetch some things to help the girl.”

  “Allow me to assist,” said Kaz.

  The bosan offered her a warm smile and then his arm for her to take. Kaz accepted, though kept one hand on her blade. The two of them ambled towards the opposite side of the hall, where the bosan slid open the door to reveal a chilled storage area. Various dried herbs, roots and plants hung from st
rings and Kaz was careful not to get a face full of ginger when they entered.

  The old man tapped his finger against his chin and then pointed to several herbs that Kaz dutifully gathered. While her knowledge of medicine was basic at best, there was nothing inherently dangerous with what the monk suggested--she’d used it herself. Her hands full, the bosan escorted her back to Shay’s room with a pestle and mortar in one hand.

  The bosan worked silently, making the remedy with practiced ease. He instructed her where to find a rag and jug of water that could be used as a compress. Then, he encouraged Shay to take a few sips of the murky concoction he had heated on a small stove in the middle of the room.

  “She just requires rest,” said the bosan. “The fever should break in the next few hours.” He breathed a deep sigh. “All we can do is wait.”

  Kaz allowed her shoulders to relax and sat cross-legged on the floor, next to Shay. She removed the blade from her side and placed it across her lap.

  “I did not ask your name, bosan,” she said, staring at the man as he pottered around the room.

  “We usually do not give them, Kaz,” he said.

  She immediately stiffened and grabbed her sword. The bosan stopped, turned to her. Frowned.

  “The girl was muttering a name,” he clarified. “I assumed it was yous. You are...family?”

  “Sisters,” she said. Not like he could see that would only be possible if they were only half-siblings.

  “It is good to have family keep you safe.” The bosan knelt by the window. His eyes hovered to the outside. “You are a warrior of some sort?” Kaz said nothing. “I am sorry if I’ve caused offense. When you walk, the scabbard makes a slight sound against your leg.” He held up his palms. “I am not here to judge. No one is above the shogens.”

  “No they are not,” said Kaz. “When do you expect your brothers and sisters to return? So that I do not cause you any undue questions.”