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Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 7, 2019 14:25:51 GMT 10
The pair decided to accept Oda and Megumi’s offer of a place to stay in the city. Their home was part of a tall, clay building, packed together with many other similar homes in a way that was very disorienting to the native Rokugani, though there were little touches from the home they shared...a shamisen on a stand. Painted screens. A carefully cultivated bonsai in an alcove with a scroll of calligraphy. The windows allowed a cool night breeze to through the home.
Megumi carried a small oil lamp as she led them up the narrow stairs. “I’ve had the servants lay out futon for you. I imagine you’re tired. We tend to sleep during the day to enjoy the cool of the evening, so do not worry about waking early. Here you go.”
She pushed aside the colored hanging that served as a door to reveal a single, large guest chamber with two soft futons neatly laid out on the floor. The two Crane dropped their mouths open to formulate a response, but Megumi smiled sweetly. “You’re a long way from the Empire here, dears. Enjoy the evening. I’ll leave you the lamp.” She set the lamp on a ledge, turned, and started down the stairs and into the darkness below before either of the two could think of what to say. Arahime crossed the room and sat down on the far futon. She loosened her hair, the soft white curls cascading down her back. Like summer clouds, like seafoam that sprayed against the cliffs at Seawatch Castle. Seawatch...she still doesn't know what happened, I still haven't told her… An image of Arahime earlier that evening flashed before his eyes, dancing with the Moto in the firelight and conversing with them in Ujik. Well, she has her own secrets, can't I keep mine? Secrets and lies. Harun's entire life had been built on this, truths that had been kept from him. His mother, his father, his Aunt Kyoumi. He remembered her kind and patient smile when he had seen her at Kyuden Hida. Her gentle pity at his own realisation at the world was not as just an ordered as he had led to believe it was. And just like in the story of Prince Glimmerlark she had told them, sometimes the truth could be dangerous. I could destroy, consume unless it was treated carefully. And Harun knew what he had to do, he just hoped he wasn't too late. Harun sat down on the other futon. "Arahime," he said. "There is something I need to tell you." "Of course, Harun." Arahime turned to face him, her white hair framing her face. She looks so beautiful, and I am about to hurt her terribly. "I know you have wondered why I was sent to Seawatch Castle," he began. "I kept this from you, and this was wrong. I thought by doing this, I was protecting you, but I was wrong. The truth is, I was protecting myself from the words you would say to me once you knew, and I knew that I would deserve them." He paused, catching his breath. Giving her time to respond if she wished to. She didn't, so he continued. "I did this, I concealed this great and terrible thing I did from you, because...I love you." Harun's declaration came from deep within himself, but when he said it the words felt useless, as if he had thrown them at Arahime's feet to clatter about like broken pottery. "I love you, Arahime, I always have, but you deserve the truth." He could feel the hot tears welling in the corners of his eyes. "Even if it means I lose you, again.” He closed his eyes, feeling the tears fall down on his cheeks. "At Toshi Ranbo, my unit was one of the first to take the old Imperial Palace. We fought our way right to the throne room. And there on the dais, was Daigotsu Shimekiri." Arahime did react, a little surprised but it was more subdued than he expected. But perhaps it was be cause she was reluctant to interrupt him, so he kept on . "He challenged us all to best him in a duel," said Harun. "The Crane had brought lots of duellists with them, and the first to accept was Kakita Isamu. Remember him?" Arahime nodded promptly. "Well, he was killed. And then there was Doji Kouta, he had just started as Isamu's apprentice. He said he liked you. Well, he went next, and was killed. He was brave, but he went up there. Then I did." "You went to duel him?" Arahime asked. "No, I went to kill him," Harun said. "And I did." Arahime looked surprised. "You..." Harun nodded. "Yes. One of my soldiers was a sniper with a gaijin powder weapon. I got her to stand behind me when I went up to challenge Shimikiri. She shot him as he took his first strike, he dropped his sword. I killed him." He wished he could seek deep into the floor. "I killed him, and I disgraced everyone, my family, my father, the entire clan, I disgraced Kakita himself and the traditions of iaijutsu." Harun sat silently. He had finally done it, what he should have done when he first arrived in Second City. He had hoped he would feel free, but instead he felt hollow. This is when she shouts at me. Can't bear to see my face, hear my voice... But what Arahime said next took Harun completely by surprise. "But Harun, what you did, you stopped all those people going up there to fight him," Arahime said. "You saved those people, even if it was a little unusual." Harun's head whipped up. "What? No! Don't defend me! You should tell me that I'm a disgrace to the clan, that I should have cut my belly open." She looked confused. "But why would I do that?" "Why?" Harun's voice was high and shrill. "Because you're a Kakita with the blood of Kenshinzen in you! Because you are samurai!" "Harun, calm down..." Harun stood up, towering over her. He examined Arahime. It looked like her, acted like her, but Arahime would never, ever say those words. Never defend his dishonourable actions. Never just brush aside Harun's betrayal of tradition. "You aren't Arahime, are you?" He looked directly into her eyes. "Harun..." He grabbed the gaudy gaijin necklace that she still always wore. She gasped as the chain tightened around her throat. Her hands flailed, trying to prize Harun's hands off. "It's this, isn't it?" He pulled harder. "Is that why you never take it off? What happens if I break it?" "Harun, no," choked Arahime. "You are...hurting me." "What have you done with her? Answer me!" He demanded. "Arahime!" ----------------------- "Arahime!" Arahime heard Harun's voice as if she was at the bottom of a deep well. Far away, as if some distance from them to her would soften their impact. But it didn’t work. He’s just as damaged as I am, if not more. Did the war change him so much where he thought betraying our traditions was right? But he saved people, said Big Sister’s voice. That doesn’t matter, Arahime insisted, this was tradition, he broke it. And now there is no future for him...or for me. Not all is as bad as you think, Princess, wounds heal, so do hearts and...he loves you… Arahime felt herself crumble. But how can I love him, care for him, after this? Everything we were taught to be is gone. Then you both may need to be something new, Kisani reassured, Past this pain, past this bloodshed. But now he needs your voice, Princess, he will not listen to mine. Yes, Arahime realised, Yes, I need to speak. “I’m here, Harun.”
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Post by Hida Tetsuko on Jan 28, 2020 9:03:19 GMT 10
Her senses came back into focus with a sharpness that seemed to pierce her skin. It had been too long, Big Sister had protected her too well. But now, slowly, things became real again. The soft, humid air, the buzzing of insects outside in the night. And Harun, his face right in front of hers. Angry, demanding answers. His hands gripping the necklace around her throat, the navrathran haar, tight.
Arahime narrowed her eyes. “Harun, stop this, now.” She put all her sternness into the command.
Harun hesitated, but only for a moment, then stepped back, his hands hanging at his sides.
“This is...you?” His voice was unsure.
Arahime nodded, feeling a tickle of guilt. Should I really have hidden?
Harun brightened at her nod, but stopped when he saw the sense of betrayal in her eyes. “I was so stupid. Everyone else knew...and said nothing. Even you. What an idiot I was.”
Harun bowed his head. “You are not stupid.The blame is mine. I thought I...we…” he trailed off.
“You thought to never tell me. Then once you did, you wanted me to forgive you. You wanted to pretend that nothing had happened. To tell you what you did was all right. That everything was back to what it had been before. Didn’t you??
“But I never asked-” He lifted his eyes defensively.
“But you wanted it, didn’t you?” Arahime demanded.
Harun was silent.
“Answer me!”
“I...I did, yes.”
Arahime shook her head. There was a part of her that wanted to forgive Harun, to forget everything and just celebrate the fact they had found each other again. But to do that would be to betray everything within herself. She just couldn’t.
“You were the Topaz Champion, Harun. You were better than any of us. Better than me. If anyone was supposed to stand up for Kakita’s ideals, it was you. Do you even believe in them any more? What else do we abandon?”
The cut drew blood...Arahime was always faster. But Harun was stronger.
“And what about you, Arahime? What did you abandon? Look at you. You don’t even look like a Rokugani any more. Get that thing around your neck and now you prefer gaijin ways to your own, right? What would the Kuni say if they studied that, do you think?”
Arahime swallowed as if struck with a physical blow, then seemed to crumple in on herself. Her voice was scarcely a whisper when she answered him. “I...don’t know.”
Harun fell silent, waiting for her to go on.
After a moment, she did. “It...it’s like a nerumani. I think. Or…” she frowned, trying to remember the term. “A Meishodo.” She took a deep breath, and began the quiet explanation. “A long, long time ago, a princess of her people, a woman named Ksani, agreed to have her spirit put into the necklace. They, too, were fighting an army much like the Onyx...of tainted creatures from the afflicted lands, and they were losing. To keep the traditions and knowledge of her people alive, to teach them to future generations, if any where to survive, their priests put her soul into the necklace. She did teach some of the young women that survived, as empires rose and fell, but, eventually, there wasn’t anyone left to teach.”
Harun’s eyebrows knit with confusion and disbelief, but he didn’t say anything. His silence stretched out too long.
“If I take it off, she is stuck...trapped out of meido, out of the cycle of rebirth, for who knows how many more hundreds of years. Maybe thousands. I took it...to survive. To not go mad. But now…” she gestured helplessly. “Maybe it was a mistake. I didn’t abandon our ways though. I’m trying to save her.”
But that will likely destroy me. Destroy us. Just like what Harun had done.
“I just wanted to save them too,” Harun said quietly.
The truth was bitter. Their destinies would never be together. They had given up too much. There was no point lingering on it.
“None of this matters anyway,” Arahime said. “What we have to do is far more important than...than what we feel.”
Harun bowed his head. “I will continue to serve you as I have promised to,” he said. “And after that…”
Arahime nodded. Who knew what fate awaited them after that.
She turned away from him, sitting back on her futon. She had intended to read the letter from her mother, but couldn’t bring herself to. After a long time, when she could be sure that wasn’t watching, she lifted a hand to her face to wipe away the silent tears.
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Steam rose from the leafy undergrowth along the river bank and settled in a pale pall across the languid brown waters that ran alongside the narrow trail through the jungle on the outskirts of Journey’s End City. It was a small expedition that navigated the overgrown trails: Arahime was in the lead, picking out small markers of carved bits of stone and long-forgotten landmarks. Behind her was Oda, his wary eye searching for any threat, and beside him, Megumi, wrapped in an aural of calm and poise. Behind them was Harun, gleaming in his blue and gold Crane armor, beads of sweat pouring down his forehead. A group of Megumi’s ashigaru trailed them all, bearing rope and torches, their eyes trained on the waters for signs of crocodiles or the giant snakes that were said to emerge from their depths.
Megumi sighed and fanned herself lightly as she watched the two young Crane avoid each others’ eyes. The tension between Harun and Arahime had been evident the minute they set out, neither of them giving any explanation as to the change between them. It seemed both had inherited their families’ propensity for drama.
Stubborn, like their parents...
Arahime turned and glanced over her shoulder. “We’re almost there. See that mound ahead?”
To Megumi’s eyes, she could see nothing but a small hillock nearly lost between the roots of two mighty trees that leaned at a precarious angle above it, and the vines that twisted and covered the ground between them. She looked dubious. “It looks like any temple that might have been here is lost to the jungle now.”
Arahime took a small step forward, a puzzled knot between her eyebrows. Harun took a step forward as if to stop her, but Oda reached out to hold him back. “Let her look,” he muttered, eyes intensely eager on the mound.
“No...there is the entrance….the holy places were underground. What was above was just living quarters and rooms for study and entertaining. The sacred path should be….” She ran forward, searching around the mound, and finally finding a gap in the collapsed stone revealed when she pulled away the vines, “Right here.”
As they drew closer, Megumi could see a carving on the rock beside the tiny gap...A furious face and an impossible body with many arms and legs. Half the arms held weapons of war, and half held instruments of music and dance. Arahime brushed her hand across the carving lightly. “Thank you for your protection….”
Oda climbed up onto the hillock and crouched down to look through the crack to peer into the darkness. “Yes, there’s the entrance to a cave here,” he said. “Would never have found it myself.”
Harun glowered at Arahime, who turned away.
Megumi glided up to stand beside Oda near the entrance to decide how best to approach.
“I thought you said they were ready to tear each others clothes off,” Oda whispered back to her, when Arahime was out of earshot..
Megumi shook her head and smiled. “They’re young and headstrong, what should we expect of people their age? I only hope it resolves itself before it’s a problem.”
Oda chuckled. “Or something happens,” he added.
“Not too much,” Megumi added, looking up at Oda then sighing. “Let us just hope that neither of them does anything too stupid.”
They summoned the heimin to light torches and tie off ropes, then left them to guard the entrance while the four samurai lowered themselves into the inky darkness.
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The stairs descended, lit by a ruddy flickering light that brightened little by little as Arahime lifted her torch to light the elegant metalwork sconces, now rusted and dull, that bordered the stairs. Harun had to duck his head to avoid the boulders above him. The footing was unstable, cracked with roots and time, but stable to his feet as he trod heavily down, regretting the weight of his armor.
At least it was cooler down here.
At the bottom of the stairs, Arahime strode unconcerned into the center of the room and touched her torch to a great brazier, taller than a man, which cast up a bonfire of flame that lit the whole cavern around them.
The chamber was round, centered on a inky reflecting pool with water as smooth as glass. From the center of the pool, a statue, shaped like a great warrior, arose, his hand held out as if bearing a spear. But those hands were empty. Three other braziers encircled the pool.
To one side of the cavern, a great wall of solid brass ascended, intricately carved with depictions of men and women, growing grain and playing music, and fighting with spear and bow against strange, tiger-headed beasts. On the other side of the cavern, a number of doorways showed no hint but black shadows of what might lie beyond them.
“Where do we go now?” Oda asked, squinting to make out form in the dancing shadows.
Arahime answered, quiet confusion in her voice. “I’m...not sure. I think that way.” She pointed towards one of the passageways. “But the monks built many protections into this temple, so that no one could come steal the trishula and abuse the power of the golem. I remember there are traps….”
“Traps...how interesting.”
A warm, friendly voice made Harun turn quickly back towards the stairs, where he was surprised to see Shinjo Ishidou, a man he recognized from his winter among the Unicorn and again, during the celebration they had visited in Journey’s End Keep. The Unicorn was wearing the familiar garb of all the Unicorn traders in the area, a scimitar hanging freely at his side, his arm banded with gold that glinted in the torchlight. Behind him, Harun could make out the forms of a few others, yojimbo, he imagined, though they were hard to see.
“Shinjo-san, what are you doing here?” Harun asked, curiosity filling him. How had he known about the temple? Maybe the governor had sent him?
“About the same thing you are, I imagine….” Ishidou answered in a friendly, cheerful tone, a smile on his lips. Then he made a gesture with his left hand. “Well, maybe not quite the same.”
There was a twang that reverberated through the fallen temple as a wooden shaft raced through the air and slammed into Harun’s torso. A crossbow?
The bolt penetrated Harun’s shoulder with enough force to knock him off his feet, driving through his armor and biting deep into the muscle. His right arm went limp. He stared up at the stone boulders and roots of the cavern roof as they spun slowly around, and he heard the sounds of feet running down the stairs over the surging of blood in his ears. Arahime’s voice desperately calling his name. He tried to lift himself on his other elbow to see, but he found himself face to face with a man wrapped in the layered cloth familiar to him as the attire of many in these lands. And that man held a spear to his throat
They were surrounded. Ishidou stood back, but there were more than twelve men, eight armed with crossbows, their weapons all pointed at them, ready to fire. Oda had drawn his sword, but had done nothing more, when he saw the crossbow bolt aimed directly at Megumi’s heart, and Megumi’s scrollcase hung from limp fingers at the sight of the spear that pricked the small of Oda’s back.
Get up, get up, move, fight… the words Harun used to shout at his soldiers.
Through the pain and nausea, Harun reached for his sword, but the bolt ground painfully in his shoulder. Blood covered his hand, his arm was weak, he couldn’t grip. The spear at his throat pressed harder and drew blood.
“Do you like stories? I do.” Ishidou asked, laughing as the guards ripped Megumi’s scrollcase from her hands and lashed Odas feet together. “I heard a story myself recently. Of a mighty golem in the desert that towered over a city at the edge of the world, frozen and useless. But then I heard another story...from a girl who said it only needed a single key to operate it. And she knew where to find it.” He turned on Arahime, folding his arms. “I very much liked this story. I want to find out how it ends.”
Harun could feel the ropes lashing his hands and feet together, the blood from his wound trickling down his skin, and that threatened to bubble up in the cough he felt rising in his chest. They then took his swords.
Megumi made a soft grunt as she was forced to her knees, her mouth and wrists bound tightly to prevent any possibility of spellcasting.
“Now girl....” Ishidou folded his arms as he addressed Arahime. “This story...with all that special treatment you get from the Ivinda..they must have told it to you. I’ve been searching across the world for the tool I need to return the Daigotsu to power. Imagine finding it here!” He laughed.
Arahime was silent.
“So now...you are going to show me where to find this trishula and how to use it to awaken the golem,” continued Ishidou.
“What makes you think I can do that?” Arahime asked, her voice had an odd calmness to it.
“Oh, I’ve read enough lore of the Invinda, and other kingdoms. This is not the only golem that the Unicorn have encountered in their travels.” Ishidou replied. “Once I control the trishula, this golem and the others are mine to command. And I will lead the Spider Clan to take these lands again, as the Empress ordered us to, long ago.”
“And what if I don’t help you?” Arahime asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ishidou sneered. “If you don’t, everyone here dies. Just like the heimen you left above.”
“If I told you, you could still kill them,” Arahime pointed out.
Ishidou laughed again. “Trust me, there will be more important quarry than the likes of you.”
Arahime didn’t speak.
“Don’t do it, Arahime, don’t tell him!” Harun shouted. He strained at the rope that bound his wrists, trying to free them, ignoring the grinding pain of the crossbow bolt.
Ishidou gestured. The man who had the spear at Harun’s throat pulled it back, then thrust it into his belly. An explosion of sick pain and bile filled him and he sagged to the ground, groaning and gasping for air. Blood gushed out in a pool around him.
“Harun!” Arahime rushed forward, her face stricken.
But Ishidou grabbed her and pulled her back. “A belly wound. Painful, certainly, but a slow death. Megumi-sama, I hear, is a talented shugenja. She heal him if I release her. Bring me to the trishula quickly, and she might have time to heal him before he dies.”
Arahime looked at him then back at Harun.
Harun looked into eyes, silently pleading with her to refuse. But in her eyes he saw the love she had for him. Unblemished, true as it ever had been. The love that had sustained him the years that they had been parted. That love Ishidou now used like a knife against her throat.
Harun fought to keep awake, everything was growing dark. “Arahime…” His voice was faint.
Arahime turned back to face Ishidou. “Come with me.” She led him into darkness.
The Spider tossed him to the base of one of the braziers on the water’s edge. Harun collapsed in a heap, blood spilling around him.
Megumi they kept tied to the base of a statue; a shugenja was too powerful to be left out of sight for an instant. The Scorpion glared daggers at them and if will alone could call the kami, she would have burned them all to a crisp on the spot.
Oda, however, was dropped heavily beside Harun, as they decided with only one hand and his feet bound there was little he could do. He wormed his way over to the duelist. “Rest easy,” he whispered. “I think she knows what she’s doing. Let’s have a look at that wound, son.”
He touched it, gently, but that was enough. Harun bit his lip to avoid crying out, so hard he drew blood.
“That’s nasty, but we can get you patched up right here until they untie Megumi,” Oda said. His tone was gentle, patient, fatherly.
He removed the remnants of Harun’s obi and then re-tied it tighter, binding the wound.
“But...they will have…” Harun could barely speak, the pain was too much.
“The only thing I want you to worry about,” said Oda, flipping the skirts of Harun’s haidate up and pulling it tight. “Is staying awake. You hear?” He patted Harun on the cheek. “That’s not Yumi-Do that’s calling you.”
Harun tried to focus on the pain, it meant he was still alive.
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Post by Hida Tetsuko on Mar 7, 2020 9:58:59 GMT 10
The darkness surrounded them like a heavy blanket, the light of their torches barely enough to leave them room to breath. Twisty roots like grasping hands pressed through the earth above, while the familiar faces of her gods beckoned to Ksani like a twisted parody of the stories of her youth.
The place smelled empty and dry, like a tomb, the bodies of the monks and those who had fallen there long since turned to dust.
Was her body, too, part of this ancient dust?
The wild princess pushed aside the dusty spiderwebs, leading the small group through the dark passage. It was so different now than the days she first passed this way…
“Honored Apsara….please, this way. The armies of the Rakasha will be here soon.”
The monk, wrapped in his robes of orange and red, led her past the crystal lamps into the belly of the temple with sure steps, but her heart had trembled with sorrow. What right did she have to live when the armies of corruption had destroyed and enslaved so many? “You should have brought them down here….at least the children….It’s not too late to bring them!”
“No, Apsara. It is already too late. We hope that the survivors have fled. The Guardian will guard their escape with what minutes we have left. But we cannot risk the Trishula falling into their hands. Once we have done...what must be done...we will bring the temple down. With luck, the Enemy will never find it.”
The Guardian, the great metal statue that kept watch over the city, was above, fighting the armies of the Rakasha and their twisted demonic horde, but controlled by this temple. It was one of the few remaining strongholds of humanity in the entire kingdom of the Peacock throne. That was why she had been brought here. But now, even this city on the edge of the world was going to fall. It was the end.
“I understand,” Kisani reassured him quietly. “We can’t let the knowledge entrusted to me be lost.”
The monk stepped through the mandala of opening, woven from chains that hung across the entrance to the outer passage. “We will be there soon.”
“How far is it?” Ishidou said roughly, pushing her forward.
Arahime stumbled over a chain that lay across the ground, concealed by the shadows. “We will be there soon.” She lifted the chain. “But first I need to make the mandala....”
One of the guards chuckled. “The gods are long dead, Crane. Only one God remains, and his name is Daigotsu.” Shoving past her, he advanced cautiously forward along the hall, torch held high in one hand and blade at the ready in the other. But Arahime would not follow, and Ishidou just watched.
Suddenly, the floor of the room flipped, tipping up to present a vertical wall, down which the hapless Spider slid, screaming, into impenetrable darkness below. The other Spider pulled back, but Arahime watched with dark eyes as Ishidou glared at her.
“I will make the Mandala of Passage now,” she answered calmly, lifting the chain to lock one of the links on a hook on the ceiling.
Ishidou nodded.
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A man’s scream echoed faintly in the darkness, causing Harun to startle awake. Arahime! No answer. Perhaps he hadn’t heard it after all.
It was so cold here. It wasn’t cold before, was it? Harun could feel his lips and hands tingle.
Oda’s low voice cut through his drifting thoughts. “That wasn’t her. She’s a brave girl….you better be alive when she gets back now. Come on, lad. Talk to me. Tell me about yourself. Heard you fought with the Emerald Legion?”
“Yes…” Harun mumbled. “Toshi Ranbo…” Of course he’d want to know about his shame…
“You ever get hurt?”
He...didn’t want to know about the duel? Harun made a vague approximation of a nod. “...twice...” he murmured. He remembered waking up after the battle near Shiro Moto...but it was nothing like this. Then, he felt sick..here, it was more. The claws of Meido were drawing tight around his throat.
Oda grunted. “Doubt it was bad, with you so pretty, huh. Well, samurai-ko love scars. But you only get to show it off if you survive. So, fight, boy. Glorious bushido and an honorable death won’t save your girl.”
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“Warn us what’s coming next time,” Ishidou gave Arahime a shove forward and propelling her into the next room.
“I don’t know it until I see it,” Arahime protested, her heart thumping with worry over Harun. She could feel Kisani curled in her mind, the secret woman who lived within her necklace seeming lost in memories of a time many centuries ago, when she remembered being here last.
It was hard to tell from the fragments Kisani shared, but it seemed that she had fled here, to this temple, at a time her own civilization had almost fallen, the last older of the religious and cultural tradition of the Apsara. We fled the screaming hoardes of the Rakasha and their minions...right to the gates of the temple. The sun had gone black; the sky rained stone...the world was about to die. Arahime shook her head.
Something from the memories caught her up short. The passage ahead was identical to that behind her, but her eyes fell upon a lever next to the door on the far end. Here, you must dance.
I don’t know how… It was Arahime’s immediate response, but she had grown familiar with Kisani’s silent guidance. “You have to stop here,” she told Ishidou, whose hand was on his katana awaiting a trick.
This time, Ishidou nodded. “Do it. And be fast about it.”
Arahime...no...Kisani...Together they stepped forward into the passage way, and raised their hands and begun to dance. The sound of stone sliding against stone echoed through the empty hallway and Arahime could feel the ground shift below her feet.
Ishidou and his men watched her in confusion. One of the Spider made a joke. “I didn’t know we’d get a show with this,” and made a crass gesture. Angry, Arahime stumbled, and her foot slipped.
Thwhip, thwhip, thwhip. A series of tiny metallic darts flew from the walls, right at where her head and neck would be were she not bent in the motion of the dance. They impacted the wall opposite with tiny metallic clicks, scattering at the ground. The darts are poison. The monks would take any measure to keep the rakasha from the Trishula. Ishidou’s eyes narrowed as he watched her reach the lever.
The rakasha must not reach it…
No...the rakasha armies fell when the ten stars fell from the sky, washing the earth in fire and stone….
The world has changed…
Arahime looked back over her shoulder at Ishidou.
But evil remains.
She pulled the lever.
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Survive. Just survive.
Somehow that word cut through the fog of questions that haunted Harun. Questions he had not really faced -- not since the fall of Toshi Ranbo.
Should I survive? Why should I survive? Why should I live when so many good people died? Maybe it would be better for everyone…
“Lad, lad...stay with me!”
Better for Arahime...
Oda was calling for him, but his voice sounded far away. His hands fumbled at Harun’s wound, tightening the straps of Harun’s armour, binding it closer together. There was pain, but it felt distant, removed from all of this.
Harun’s voice stuck in his throat. “Tell...tell her…”
“No, you’re going to tell her! Tell her everything, once this is over you’ll be laughing.”
Harun made a faint smile. He had said something like that to Seiho. Death all around them in a burning building. But this, this didn’t seem so bad. A release, from all this pain.
Like Zetsubou, like his birth father, Nakura. Standing before the torii arch, surrounded by the shining shryo of the blessed ancestors, the idyllic green fields of Yomi beyond.
Will that even be my fate? How will Emma-O judge me after all I have done?
“Lad, Harun, stay with me!” Oda started to sound worried.
But Harun’s life continued to ebb away.
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Doorways with wood long rotted away, ground broken and cracked, but Kisani still knew them all. She had lived two months in these underground tunnels. The monks had pulled down the temple above them to keep them from the enemy’s gaze. From below the ruins, they fought, using the power of the trishula to guide the golem that rampaged above.
But the golem’s power could not defeat one enemy...hunger. She had lived in these narrow quarters for two months with the monks, and she starved with them. Their meager stores turned to nothing, and she felt the fog of death nearing them all. She watched them offer each other in sacrifice, to keep her...to keep their culture...all their memories, alive just a little bit longer. But it was more than she could bear. She would not see the last of her people reduce themselves to beasts before such a foe. There had to be another way.
“Blessed Apsara...we think there is a way for you...or your knowledge...to survive.” The old monk looked as frail as a dry fern, as though hunger had reduced him to nothing but the bones of a man wrapped in orange rags. Kisani knew she was little better.
“I will not allow you to harm yourselves more for my sake. You do too much already.” She tried to keep her voice strong, certain.
“It will not, my Lady. I fear the sacrifice will be yours. Though, that sacrifice might let we who remain keep fighting just a little bit longer.”
“Tell me.”
At the end, their way was blocked. A chasm lay before them, facing into a blank, empty wall elaborately carved with depictions of gods and monsters and men. There was no way across...no place to land on the other side, even if you could jump, no resting place for a bridge or grappling hook.
Ishidou looked at Arahime. “So...show us how to cross.”
Kisani sighed had been afraid of this. The monks had used a bow...but she had no skill with the weapon. She...Arahime...looked around for the bow, but only found fragments of wood in the alcove where one might have laid, long ago. “I need a bow,” she told Ishidou flatly.
He glared at her. “Tell my men what to do. I won’t let you have a weapon.”
Kisani was resigned, sharing her knowledge to Arahime. To pass, they must hit the eye of Dawon, mount of Durga. It was a test of skill that only fine human archers could pass; the Rakasha had no such skill, for they relied on magic and strength. I had hoped the monks had not closed this pathway before the end. But I was wrong.
Arahime shared the information with Ishidou.
Ishidou studied her, then scowled and gestured one of his man, who carried a hankyu, forward. “There,” he pointed. “That lion beast, there, ridden by the warrior woman.”
Two...three….. arrows clattered uselessly against the wall, then fell uselessly into the abyss below. Ishidou snarled. “Useless.” He looked at Arahime. “I suppose we must come back with a better archer. Too bad for your man, though.”
“No!” Arahime and Kisani cried together, though Kisani could see no way around it. She lowered her hands in despair.
But there, in the darkness, Arahime broke free. “I can do it,” she said in a soft voice.
Ishidou snorted. “I’ve heard much about you, but not that you were an archer.”
“All arts are one. Let me try. For Harun.”
Ishidou shrugged and had his man pass her the bow. Kisani was uncertain, but found herself reluctant to get in the way. Perhaps I have done too much...This wild princess has skills also...maybe skills that should not be forgotten?
Arahime nocked the arrow and lined up the shot, slowly exhaling as she waited for the perfect moment to take it. Kisani could feel the twisted knot of Arahime’s sorrow and fear that had kept her hidden for so long, slowly melt away, leaving nothing but a still emptiness. It is...comforting. This is strange.
The arrow flew free and true, landing in the eye of the lion-like beast before tumbling into the crevasse below. Kisani drew back...sharing with Arahime a quiet smile.
With a grinding of ancient and dusty gears, a bridge of metal extended itself from the far side of the wall, an inch at a time, until it reached Arahime’s feet. A portion of the mural rocked slowly backward to the ground, marking the final passage. Ishidou blinked, then ripped the bow from Arahime’s hands. “I suppose the boy lives a while longer. Get me that spear.”
The group advanced across the bridge.
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