War Priest 3: A Summer's Snow, page 14
Tayaura waited another few minutes before she finally stood and dusted herself off. She readjusted her conical hat on her head and started up again, Arik following behind her. As they continued on, he noticed the way that she walked, the illusionist shifting her feet outward with each step, rolling her heels in a way. He paused, and with the sun was left in the sky Arik examined the footprints they left behind, his visible and somewhat clunky, hers simply waves in the sand that were indiscernible from the natural environment.
They were learning from each other, and they would continue to do so for all Arik knew, yet even if he trained with Tayaura for a year, there was still so much he wouldn’t know about being an illusionist. This humbled him in a way, yet it also made him thirsty to learn more. It truly was astounding to see the connections between the three different aspects of chi cultivation, not to mention Yokaura.
Arik couldn’t wait to study it further.
As the landscape shifted upward, he became aware of the fact that they were heading toward one of the cliffs outside the city, the one on the southern side of Minami. He was about to ask how they would scale the cliff and reach the beach, wondering if it would involve any other shinobi tools, when he remembered that Meosa could simply float them down.
Probably easier that way, he thought once Tayaura reached the rock that had been draped in prayer flags. She walked counterclockwise around it, and following her lead, Arik did the same, even if he didn’t know the reasoning behind the action. As he had predicted, they reached the cliff and Tayaura asked Meosa to handle the rest.
Soon, they were slowly lowering over the edge, Arik’s limbs tingling for a moment as they always did when Meosa lifted him in any way.
He could already see a lighthouse at the end of a long wave breaker made of the same gray stone that they had just passed. With as much sand as there was on the beach, it must have taken quite some time to transport the rocks down to the bottom, Arik wondering if they simply rolled them off the sides of the cliff.
As they touched down near the shoreline, Arik spotted planks of gray scree pressed up against the cliff wall, and assumed that this was the case. Then again, it was clear that the wave breaker had been made quite some time ago, which meant that the people that constructed it might have had help from a kami like Meosa. There was no telling, and he didn’t ask as they started along the wave breaker, the three aimed at the lighthouse. “Do you know how exactly he will appear?” Arik asked Tayaura.
“You heard the same thing as me, disciple. Low tide, on a moonlit night. The tide should shift soon, and that will be our window of opportunity. We will have until morning, and then…” The illusionist trailed off, her silence interrupted by the crash of the sea. “And then, we will never see him again.”
****
Arik understood later once the waves began to roll away why this area along the breakwater was unique. The water receded all the way to the far end, the lighthouse at the edge. The way that the stars reflected off the water made the entire scene otherworldly, the lighthouse like a tower standing guard over the sea. The moon, which cast a long arc across the surface of the water, seemed to reach out to Arik, a pale spotlight yet one powerful enough to beckon him forward. The waves were almost still, and the seagulls that had been circling above the shore earlier had stopped squawking.
“What did he teach you here?” Arik asked Tayaura, who stood before the water, her conical hat removed. A soft sea breeze ran through her hair as she fixed it. She had stood with her back to the water for the last thirty minutes. While he had joined her for most of that time, Arik now sat with his back against the outer walls of the lighthouse.
“He used the water to illustrate a point in creating an illusion,” Tayaura finally said. “I was young, I couldn’t have been older than five. I watched his reflection in the water, and his reflection began to resemble that of a kitsune. I turned to my father, and his face was that of a kitsune. I screamed, and in doing so I fell from there,” she said, motioning to a large stone along the edge, “straight into the sea. He rescued me, of course, but I was pretty mad over the days that followed.”
“I’ll bet you were,” said Meosa, the kami invisible yet again. Earlier, he had entertained the two by moving through the water and performing a few tricks, but over the last thirty minutes he had grown quieter than normal.
Tayaura burst out laughing, startling both of them. “I really made him work to get back on my good side. All of it, candy, fruit water, pastries— I was mad at him for weeks. That’s the good side of what an illusionist can do.”
“Scaring children?” asked Arik.
“No, getting on someone’s good side.”
“But it took him weeks.”
“Aware, kami. That’s because I’m steadfast, or at least that is what he told me at the time. This is why I wear a kitsune mask, in honor of him.”
Now it was Meosa’s turn to laugh. “Steadfast? He likely told you that so he didn’t have to call you stubborn.”
“It was what sparked my interest in becoming an illusionist. Before that, I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”
“Most five-year-olds don’t,” said Arik.
“You didn’t have a choice, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.” Arik looked from Tayaura to the wet stone that she was standing on. It was true, he really didn’t have a choice.
Their conversation would have likely continued had Arik not noticed something behind Tayaura. At first, he thought his eyes were merely playing tricks on him, but he knew this wasn’t the case when a dark figure grew closer to them, one whose face was obscured by a conical hat, this time without the slit cut in it. Arik recognized the silhouette in an instant. As he did so light traced across it, Hojo’s form taking shape, his face still hidden.
“I see it, disciple,” Meosa said, his voice with a hint of fear in it.
Tayaura grew quiet. “I can’t,” she said, her eyes fixating on Arik, the illusionist still with her back to the water.
“He’s here.”
“I can’t…”
“Tayaura, shadow-child.” Hojo’s voice seemed to emanate all around them, not quite coming from the floating spirit. “Please, you know that there is little time.”
Arik watched as something came over Tayaura’s face. She morphed from a hardened young woman to merely a girl, even though she maintained the same size. Hearing her father’s voice had crushed her, Tayaura’s knees starting to buckle.
“Help her, disciple.”
“How?” Arik whispered back to Meosa.
“Figure it out.”
Arik stood, and as he approached Tayaura she fell into his arms. Uncomfortable as ever considering Hojo was floating before him, Arik casually placed his hand on her back and looked up at the master illusionist.
“I will speak to you first, disciple. I see you now have my sword.”
“I do,” Arik told him, not sure what he should say. He felt a wave of emotion roll over his shoulders. He wanted to tell Hojo how much the man had meant to him. He wanted to tell him how much he had learned in such a short amount of time, how he had opened Arik’s eyes in so many ways, from Jadean customs to chi manipulation, and how his sudden and strange appearance in Arik’s life had gone on to change it for the better. Instead, he simply nodded and repeated what he had just said, but in a different way. “Yes, I have your sword. And I thank you for it.”
“You will find it to be quite useful once you better understand its power. Tell me what happened after my passing.”
Arik explained their escape from Nobunaga’s encampment, how Hojo’s bird monger plan had succeeded. He told him that everyone else had survived, that Istvan and Nyoko were waiting for them at the southern border, and that Basha had gone missing.
“And have you trained with the sword?” Hojo asked.
“Not as much as I would like.”
“It is difficult to wield two weapons. You would do best to infiltrate a Crimsonian Academy and learn in that way. It may take you a year or longer, and you will certainly have to prove yourself and hide the items you already have, the Whispering Sword, the Mask of the Fallen. But you don’t have time for that, do you?”
“I don’t believe so, no. Nobunaga has my sister, and I believe he is going to force her to marry his son.”
Hojo dipped his head a little as he considered this. “A nefarious way to unite the two realms.”
Arik shook his head. “I won’t let that happen.”
“Unification means different things to different realms. Unification through force is only destined to collapse. You must stop him, disciple.”
“I intend to.” Arik blinked a few times as he tried to figure out what to say next. “Where are you? How are you doing this?” he asked as he continued to hold Tayaura. He’d been so transfixed just moments ago by Hojo that he had forgotten that she was still in his arms. As gradually as ever, he let go of her. The illusionist dropped to both knees, still with her back to her father.
“I’m in the place where all Hidden Warriors must go,” Hojo said before Arik could respond to Tayaura.
“It actually exists?” asked Meosa.
“Right now it does. For tonight, I am there, and I’m able to speak with the two of you and my daughter. What a treasure. What an absolute joy to be here on this night.” Hojo motioned to the sky.
Meosa spoke again: “You should know that your body is now buried in the same crypt where we found the Whispering Sword. It was buried in an honorable way. We figured that you deserved to be entombed in a nice and worthwhile location like Moonagwa, one that would last. Although we haven’t yet dealt with the grave marker, I’m certain that is something we can do in the future. Maybe Sukitoma would help.”
Hojo merely nodded his head as he returned his focus to Arik. “How goes your practice of the One-Count Strike?”
“I haven’t practiced it as much as I would like,” Arik admitted, “but I have gotten somewhat of a handle on it. Lately my biggest challenge has been utilizing two weapons. Tayaura and I have also begun teaching each other various things.”
“Oh?”
“She is interested in learning more about Revivaura and she is teaching me more about Chimaura. It is too early to tell, but I believe she will be able to heal herself in the future.”
“What are you teaching him, shadow-child?” Hojo asked his daughter, no judgment in his voice.
Tayaura still wouldn’t turn to her father. Arik got the hint that it had something to do with superstition rather than disrespect. She spoke with her back to him. “Everything I know, everything you taught me, yet at a faster pace. The disciple is right. We are learning from each other.”
“I consider that a good thing. And I’m glad that you have come here to discuss it with me.”
“That’s not what I came here to discuss.” Finally, in dramatic fashion, Tayaura hopped to her feet and spun around, the illusionist looking up at her father’s glowing form with tears in her eyes. “I came to see you one last time.”
“Shadow-child…” It was the softest Arik had ever heard Hojo speak. And as those words left his lips, Tayaura began to sob. She quickly wiped her tears and sucked in deep breaths, becoming presentable again in a matter of seconds. It was remarkable how quickly she moved from a near breakdown to maintaining her composure, as if it too was an illusion.
“I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Hojo told her. “This was destined to happen, you know that. At some point.”
“But it was too soon.”
“It is always too soon. But all that is behind us now. We are here, and we have limited time. Once the tide returns I will be forced to leave this realm.”
“We can come back tomorrow,” Arik said.
“It doesn’t quite work like that, disciple. Although…” Hojo paused and shifted to a different topic. “The two of you are all that remains of a vast array of knowledge from either of your schools, at least I believe this to be the case. There may be another wayward disciple out there like you, and there certainly have been others who have exhibited some skill in healing, not to mention other illusionists,” said Hojo. “But the two of you are a dying breed. You are the last of your kind, shadow-children.”
“Saiyo Haro is still active. He has tried to attack us twice.”
“Yes, a dying breed,” Hojo told his daughter. “Saiyo is quite skilled. Sengum Minamoto taught him well, but you have other advantages that he doesn’t, including a kami and a disciple. I am sure you will best him when the time comes, and do not be ashamed to use everything at your disposal to do so. The longer you let Saiyo Haro live, the more chances he will have to declare the ultimate victory, one over life.”
“Kogu is here,” Tayaura said, “in Minami.”
“In Minami? I should have suspected as much. It will not be easy getting into his inner circle. With what we have already done to his forces, and the likely strain he now feels from Nobunaga, he will be very paranoid. And he should be. His plan to betray our entire realm has come back to haunt him, but only if you finish what I’ve started.”
“I intend to.”
“Good, tell me what you know.”
“The disciple shouldn’t hear this,” Tayaura said.
“I can help,” Arik told the two of them.
“No, I’ve already told you that this is dangerous, and that if I don’t succeed you will need to continue on. Father, do you agree?”
Hojo made no indication that he agreed with his daughter. “Disciple, I would like you to walk to the beach, and once you reach it, I want you to walk to the lighthouse halfway to the opposite end of the beach and return. When you return, all will be clear.”
“Why—”
Meosa interrupted Arik. “Let’s go, disciple. It is important that they have a moment alone, they are, after all, father and daughter. Take no offense by it.”
Arik set his things down, an indication that he would return. He tried his best to hold his head up as he returned to the beach, but he couldn’t shake the fact that it felt wrong to leave. Arik wanted to be there.
****
It was halfway through Arik’s walk to the next lighthouse that Meosa spoke. “You’re overreacting, disciple. Take a breath, and try not to make this all about you.”
Arik paused, and for a moment he watched the waves lap lightly against the shoreline. “I know I am.” While the walk hadn’t been long, a mere fifteen minutes, it had given the disciple a chance to clear his head, something that he noticed now that he had finally taken a moment to pause. He had a limited amount of time with the man who had become one of the most important instructors in his life. It was important to absorb as much as he could. “But the way she dismisses me makes me feel useless.”
“You are anything but, disciple, and you know that. Believe me, it shouldn’t take a generous kami who was alive and well five hundred years ago to tell you how difficult your journey has been and how much you have improved since our first meeting. You have progressed, and you continue to do so. But you must remember who they are, those two illusionists, and the world they come from. It may not turn out the way you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Knowing the master illusionist—and I certainly should considering the time I’ve spent with him—I would guess that he has other plans for both of you. After all, he wouldn’t leave a double behind without sound reasoning. He is calculating in that way, you know.”
“I know.”
They reached the second lighthouse, and Arik turned back.
He walked slower now, at peace with whatever decision was to come. In doing so he was also reminded that this was a distraction, an important one, to be sure, but his destiny lay south of the border with his sister, Mori Ehara. Everything that he was doing needed to be done with her eventual rescue in mind. Even if it was fascinating to improve his skill and learn more about Chimaura, all of this was for his sister and to stop Nobunaga. I can’t forget that.
The walk along the beach, the sound of the waves, the slight breeze, all of it continued to have a calming effect, Arik completely relaxed by the time he reached Tayaura and Hojo. Tayaura was now seated and looking up at her father, the Hidden Warrior’s facial features still obscured by his conical hat. Hojo was the first to notice the disciple’s appearance, which indicated to Arik just how transfixed Tayaura was by her father.
“Please, sit,” the master illusionist told him.
Arik did so, just a foot or so away from Tayaura.
Hojo spoke: “I have something to reveal to both of you, something that I want you to seek out before you begin your two missions.”
Two missions? Arik thought.
“The School of Illusion could very well die, and maybe it should. Maybe you should be the last person to truly know its potential,” he told his daughter, “but I am a man that believes that there are real possibilities in this world, alternative choices even when it seems as if all is lost. You could simply put it to bed, shadow-child, all of your training, your upbringing, or the two of you together could rebuild the School of Illusion, not only that, the Academy of Healing Arts as well. I do not have the knowledge of the healing arts to the point that I can tell you what scripture or manuals you would need to teach it again. Perhaps you know, disciple, but I do have that knowledge for the School of Illusion, notes.”
“Notes?” asked Tayaura, surprise tracing across her face.
“Years ago, when I sensed that things could be disbanded, I took very detailed notes on curriculum and illusionistic structures. I also wrote down some of the more famous stories of past masters, along with a few treaties on Chimaura. These notes turned into quite the volume, and then that volume turned into another. Two volumes in total, now bound. You may recall that I would often be going over scrolls during my off-peak hours,” Hojo told Tayaura. “I was gathering what I needed. All of this information, these two bound volumes, are being held by a bookseller here in Minami, at a little-known branch of Yoshimura Books.”
