War Priest 3: A Summer's Snow, page 17
“Is that what you’d like?” the older woman asked aloud, her eyes blazing with a light behind them as she spoke to some spirit Arik couldn’t see. The other two itako, the younger one she’d spoken to earlier and a middle-aged lady with gray bangs, both bowed at the same time to the point that their heads were pressed against the ground. “But that will be challenging for the disciple,” the lead itako said again, as if she were talking to an invisible force.
Arik didn’t always look forward to Meosa’s commentary, but he wished in that moment to hear the kami, to know that he wasn’t witnessing this alone. He got his wish moments later when Meosa shuddered, which in turn caused Arik’s skin to crawl. “I don’t like this, disciple,” was all he said before the itako tilted her head to Arik, the woman looking beyond the fire and now staring deeply into his eyes.
“Your request will be granted, but only if you can do something for us,” she said, her voice now changed to some degree, much deeper now. Arik had been around enough itako to recognize a possession, which was clearly the case here. She focused on the disciple. “A yasha haunts the woods not far from here, in the shadow of Mount Osore. Deliver the yasha’s head, and the soul gem is yours.” She gasped, her normal voice returning. “What did I say?” the lead itako asked the younger woman seated to her right.
“The yasha. The sisters requested the yasha be dealt with.”
“The yasha?” The older woman’s gaze softened on Arik in an apologetic way. “I’m sorry, but if you’d like a soul gem, it appears that we will need proof that you have slain the yasha. The demon has been interfering with our rituals. We were going to put a curse on her, but now that you’re here, a solution is clear.”
“If we do this,” Arik asked, desperation in his voice, “you’ll be able to give us what we need, right?”
The lead itako nodded slowly. “That is correct, but just because you have a soul gem doesn’t mean you’ll be able to get in contact with the master illusionist. We could give you one now, yet you’d have no idea how to use it. That’s what we’re offering here—deliver the yasha, and we will not only give you the gem, we will also show you the most opportune times to use it. The gem by itself will do nothing for you.”
Yasha… where have I heard that before? Arik thought as he considered the itako’s offer.
“So you want us to fight a demonic kami?” asked Meosa, his question triggering a series of rapid-fire memories. Fighting a yasha had been how he had first encountered Tayaura in the southern desert. To defeat the creature, Meosa had taken over, using Arik’s body as a vessel to fight the demonic, purple-skinned kami.
“We do, yes.”
“Then consider it done. We’ve slain a yasha before, and we’ll damn sure slay one again,” Meosa assured the itako. “And when we get back, I expect the soul gem and a quick lesson in how to use it. We’re not planning on staying near Mount Osore for too long. I don’t like it here, to be honest.”
The older woman nodded. “Honesty is a good thing for a kami such as yourself, and we accept these conditions. The yasha is about four miles west of here, in the woods at the edge of the mountain. I pray that luck is on your side. She’s quite strong.”
.Chapter Seven.
“There are three diseases that eventually take all Hidden Warriors. The first disease is fear, the second disease is confidence, and the third disease is overthinking. Unfortunately, the only known cure is death. It is a cure for many things.”
–A quote attributed to Hidden Warrior Sorgus de Moonagwa, as told to his last student, Boten de Moonagwa, who later founded the Katano School of Illusion.
The four miles between the itako and the yasha blazed by, Arik barely remembering most of the walk. The sulfuric smell lessened the further he got from the lake, the trees long and spiny, clearly affected by the moonscape environment that surrounded the Jade Realm’s most famous mountain. Even if it had been warm around the lake, the air was cold here, which matched the increasingly bleak surroundings.
“Seems to me like the itako could have handled the yasha themselves,” Meosa told the disciple, not the first time he’d said something about the shamanic group back at the lake. “Sending us out as their errand boys… I’m a kami, one that is over five hundred years old, and I deserve some respect. Not only that, we have much better things to do.”
“Like help Tayaura?”
“What? No, not like that. Like get to the border and meet up with Istvan and Nyoko. Last I checked, you were trying to save your sister. That still is what you intend to do, right?”
“Of course. But Tayaura is part of our team, and we need to go back to Minami anyway, for the Coro Pache book.”
“Part of our team?” Meosa grumbled for a moment as he considered this. “That’s a stretch, in my opinion. She’s an illusionist, and like her father, she’ll do what she wants when she wants and if she does it well, you won’t even know about it. I know you fancy her—”
“I do not.”
“I can feel it, you know, the way your heart quickens sometimes when you talk to her, but sure, let’s assume you don’t fancy the illusionist, who is clearly around the same age as you, most certainly single, and may even have a soft spot for a wayward disciple. Sure, we’ll say that.”
Arik pressed ahead, as if that would somehow get Meosa off his back.
The kami continued: “If you want my opinion, and I know you do, the shinobi-ess is trouble. Not only that, she is unpredictable. So we can consider her part of our team, if that makes you happy, but you should know that she’ll do what she wants when the time comes, and I don’t want you to get caught in the middle. As for your budding romance, the same qualities I just listed would make her interesting to a human, so I say go for it in that regard. Didn’t expect that advice from me, did you? And not to worry. I’ll give you privacy if and when it ever happens. Not only do I not want you to be caught in the middle, I’d prefer to stay away from the middle myself.”
Caught in the middle? Arik thought as they came to a series of rocks pressing out of what resembled a meadow. There was a line of trees around the space, the large igneous rocks reminding Arik of some of the islands that rose from the water beyond the northern city of Sunocea. The memory of the time he’d spent in the city, of his internships at various hospitals, came to him as he paused for just a moment. Arik felt the sudden weight of the journey he’d had as compared to what he’d been doing last summer. He had lived his entire life with the only change being his lessons and his capabilities. There were surprises and uncertainties to be sure, yet his life had been following a trajectory until it just wasn’t, until he was here, walking through a spooky wooded area looking to fight a demonic yokai.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Meosa asked as Arik circled around one of the larger stones, which reminded the disciple of the stacked bales of hay he’d seen outside of Moonagwa.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“About the illusionist?”
“What do you want me to say about her?”
“I want you to agree that she can’t be trusted and that you like her. Not only that, I want you to understand what I’m telling you here about illusionists. It is of their nature to seize any advantage they can take. Don’t think for a moment—”
Arik’s mask was the first to notice the demonic kami that had stepped out of the woods. Even in the moonlight, the yasha’s skin had a purplish hue. And just like the one he’d encountered in the desert, her teeth were sharpened, and her eyes yellow like that of a cat. What were these demonic kami? Why did they exist in the first place?
Arik drew the Whispering Sword from its scabbard, the blade slinking toward the ground as he prepared for action. The yasha looked at his sword with disgust, as if she thought that he was cheating by possessing such a weapon. She produced her own blade, one that was exceedingly large and made of bone.
“Do you have this, disciple?” Meosa asked. “Or do you want assistance?”
Arik knew not to be too sure of himself, yet he also felt the urge to push himself to the limit. Rather than respond, he sent his two blades twisting forward. The yasha swatted his attack away as she tried to clear the distance between the two. Arik attempted another long-range strike, hoping to do some damage before he had to actually engage her. He failed yet again, the yasha batting his attack away with her large bone weapon.
“Disciple—!”
Arik ignored Meosa as he pivoted onto his back foot. His sword returned to its normal form, mere seconds away from being struck by the yasha. Clank! Arik blocked the attack. As he pushed back for a moment, the yasha glaring him down, Meosa came alive and slammed his full force into the demonic kami, sending her several feet away.
“I’ve got this!” Arik said, finally verbalizing to Meosa how much he wanted the challenge. He had to grow stronger. With what he planned to do in the future, Arik needed to be a better fighter, and he wasn’t going to get there training without stakes, nor would he get there using Meosa as a crutch.
With this in mind, he brought his sword to the ready and prepared to address his assailant yet again. He had to decipher her cadence, he had to break it with his own, Arik aware that the only way he’d best her, especially with her incredibly strong weapon, would be to exploit either her weaknesses or her strengths.
The yasha’s next attack told Arik that she was used to fighting lesser opponents. There was a confidence about her style, Arik assuming she’d dueled with her fair share of humans. While she knew about his sword by this point, and she certainly was aware he was fighting with the aid of a kami, she didn’t know about the Mask of the Fallen and the red lines it continued to connect with various parts of her body.
Give in to the mask…
Rather than try to land a particular strike, or rely on his knowledge of technical curriculum, Arik decided to completely trust what the mask was showing him. But to reach the attack that the mask had suggested required him to swivel, to move in ways he wasn’t used to. Trusting the mask, he moved into position and synced with his Whispering Sword, its two blades scissoring all around him.
His opponent was able to address his next few attempts, yet Arik soon found his rhythm. He also found her weakness, which like many weaknesses was tied to her strength. The yasha was aggressive and fast, coming at him with what felt like near limitless stamina, yet with her increased attacks she left numerous openings, ones that the Mask of the Fallen never missed.
Since his mask had a symbiotic relationship with his sword, it was only a matter of time before Arik’s two blades split, one going through the yasha’s body, the other crossing in a diagonal around her blade to pierce the underside of the woman’s chin. She dropped her bone sword. For a moment, Arik had her pinned, but then his two blades dug in even deeper, the fight over in the breath it took for the Whispering Sword to withdraw.
The yasha hit the ground, Arik only then realizing that his back was now against one of the larger stones, that she’d had him pinned.
She could have ended it…
“That was unexpected,” Meosa said as Arik approached his opponent, still ready to engage her if need be. He expected the kami to follow this up with a blunt statement, or perhaps a warning about the Mask of the Fallen, yet Meosa merely repeated what he’d just said again, a bit slower this time.
Arik’s eyes dropped to her bone sword. “Let’s gather what evidence we need and return to the itako.”
****
The itako camping along the lake all came out for Arik once he appeared, the disciple dragging the yasha’s heavy bone sword against the shore. He hauled it over to one of their watchfires and deposited it on the ground. “The yasha’s blade,” he told the first woman that approached, who happened to be the youngest itako. He felt just about the toughest he’d ever felt before in delivering this statement, which had been one that had cycled through his head numerous times in the walk back to the lake.
She crouched before the weapon, surprise on her face as she swept some of the beads hanging over her brow aside. The young itako looked up at Arik. “You did this? Or was it the kami?”
Meosa swelled into existence. “As much as I’d like to claim this kill, it was the disciple. We’ll take the soul gem and continue on.”
“You won’t stay for the night?” she asked as the other itako gathered, including the older woman who had tasked Arik with slaying the yasha.
Arik was about to reply when the lead itako spoke, the woman nodding in a satisfied way: “Your former teacher would be proud to see how quickly you accomplished this task. Do you know what kind of bone this is?”
“No.”
“Have you heard of a gashadokuro?”
Arik nodded, recalling the large, skeletal yokai tasked with stopping tourists from bothering Sukitoma named Basha.
“Ah, so you have. It belongs to one of those,” the itako said. “The yasha has formed it into a weapon, so it is smaller than it used to be.”
“Is it… old?” Arik asked, not certain of the best way to phrase what he was thinking.
The woman continued to examine the blade. “Yes, it is quite old.”
Then it doesn’t belong to Basha, Arik thought with relief. Good.
This still didn’t answer where the large yokai had gone.
“There was one here recently, you know,” the woman told him, “a gashadokuro. He was a rather gentle one. Stayed for a day and then headed to the northern side of Mount Osore.”
“Do you think it was Basha?” Arik asked Meosa.
“Did you say Basha?” The older woman pursed her lips. “Yes, that was his name. Very friendly, that one.”
Arik looked toward the mountain. “How long ago did he leave?”
“A few days? He was moving quite slow.”
Meosa spoke before Arik could get another word in: “Yes, disciple, yes. We can take a quick fly around the mountain and see if we can’t find the old bag of bones. But there are more pressing matters. Itako, you’ve promised us a soul gem and we intend to collect.”
The older woman smiled at Meosa, her bleached eyes eerie in the pale moonlight. “Come with me.” Arik followed the woman down to the edge of the water, where she began rolling up the ends of her robes. “Remove your boots and do the same,” she told Arik.
Once her robes were rolled up, she stepped into the water and turned to Arik, waiting for him to join her. Each movement deeper into the lake caused ripples of starlight to trace across the tops of the water, the woman about ten feet out and up to her knees by the time Arik caught up to her.
“The water feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It feels cold,” he told her, his teeth chattering.
“One should be around here,” she said, Arik noticing that it looked like she was moving her foot beneath the water.
Meosa took shape next to him, his form even stronger due to their current location. “Not an ideal time for a bath,” he said as the woman stopped moving.
The itako crouched even further and returned with a handful of moss. “This should do it,” she said as she proudly showed Arik what she had found. For a moment, Arik was confused as to how the moss would help him, but then he saw the sudden gleam of a precious jewel. Had it been buried in the moss? And if so, how had she so easily found it? The itako flicked more of the moss away, producing a stone that was rough on one side, and reminded Arik of a diamond on the other.
“That’s a soul gem?” asked Meosa. “If so, I could have just found one.”
“Yes, you could have, kami. There are thousands of them at the bottom of the lake. We itako believe these are remnants of a fallen star, and many of us use them in our rituals.”
“I’ve never seen an itako use one of these stones.”
“That’s because we don’t show them to the public,” she told Meosa. “We wear them as undergarments.”
“You do?” the kami asked, just a hint of skepticism in his voice.
“I have mine on now. They help channel power. I could show them to you, kami.”
“I’ll just take your word for it.”
“Good,” she told him as she guided Arik back to the shore, where the other itako had gathered. They all seemed quite interested in the gem she had retrieved, the group passing it around and commenting on its size. Once they returned it to her, the lead itako approached Arik, the disciple now standing on the shoreline, his legs and feet dripping wet. “Are you ready to learn how to use this?”
Arik nodded.
“What the kami said was right—anyone can find a soul gem in the lake here. But to activate it, and for it to actually work, are two very different things. First, the timing must be right. Not now,” she said, sweeping her hand to the sky, “just before dawn. The sun can’t be up yet, but it should have started to cast a rim of light on the horizon. Are you aware of the time I’m talking about? There is a very short window just before dawn.”
“I believe so, yes.”
“You are a disciple, and you are familiar with Revivaura. A Hidden Warrior took you as his student, meaning you’d be familiar with Chimaura and Thunderaura. Are you aware of Yokaura?”
“I am.”
“Are you aware of what it is?”
“I think.”
“Explain.”
Arik cleared his throat. “All three of the aspects of chi that humans have divided and learned to cultivate are, in fact, Yokaura. They are merely interpretations that focus on different, um, properties of how the chi is presented, Revivaura being water-like, Chimaura being smoke-like, and Thunderaura similar to lightning, electric-like.”
