A Dance of Mist and Fury, page 3
A bit of red caught my attention. My leg had bled a little more since I cleaned it by that stream, and already it began to bruise. My pants weren’t long enough to conceal that. Pitiful as it was.
Light began to appear in the cloudy sky. My nerves wracked at my body. I’d made it. Surely. I couldn’t see Hisato anywhere, but I’d made it to the villa before sunrise. Wasn’t that enough?
I fidgeted with the cuffs of my sleeves, my eyes fixed on the house. I almost didn’t believe when I saw the kindlier guard and a handsome man come around the corner and into view. They’d said their master had a foul mood for fifty years—I didn’t think a youthful lord would come to meet me. In remembering where I stood, I realized how silly it was to expect an old man to appear. The lord of this place was a Juneun, a heavenly spirit. Of course he wouldn’t be old, not unless he wanted to appear that way. He was timeless, like all his kind were; whether they were Juneun or Kurai, they were eternal compared to humans.
His long silken robes of black, white, and gray flowed so seamlessly as he walked. His face pale like snow, while his long, black hair shined. He hadn’t bothered to tie it up, perhaps thinking I wasn’t worth the effort; and I couldn’t blame him for that, considering how I arrived. His eyes were a mixture of brown and orange, something predatory and tiger-like, and seemed in conflict against his stony expression. I found I couldn’t read him at all, and it worried me. Perhaps all lords were taught to present themselves like this, since they were so different from us villagers.
I stood, trembling. A part of me wanted to flee, while another part of me wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg for my brother’s release. What would I say? I’d been so shocked by the lord of this villa that I’d forgotten everything I practiced in my head. His every stride seemed deliberate and powerful and all authority, and I couldn’t look away.
My hands went to my chest, pressing hard on the stuffed rabbit beneath my clothes. It was enough to remind me of the important things to say.
He stopped a few feet away, looking down at me, and I felt so exposed and pathetic in that moment. What right did I have to ask him anything? Hisato. I had the right as a sister to try and save her brother.
“This is the village boy?” asked Lord Kwan.
“I...” my voice felt stuck, and I swallowed hard on the sticky spit that coated my mouth.
“Gi tells me you came up on behalf of a brother. The one who killed the sacred doe of the mountain.”
“He didn’t mean to,” I said, a bit too loudly.
Lord Kwan raised a brow, but otherwise stayed unmoving.
I reined my voice in, holding tight to my bunny and fighting the urge to fall shaking on my knees. “I’m sure he’d tell you. Many villagers go into the mountain to hunt. And I know he wouldn’t deliberately hunt on your lands, or kill an animal that was sacred. He wouldn’t do that if he knew. He, he must have thought it was an ordinary deer, or maybe didn’t see how special it was—”
I paused, catching Gi, the kindly guard from before, mouthing something. My lord. He was cuing me to use manners I wasn’t used to. My face paled when I realized. He stopped, abrupt, as his master turned his head slightly.
“I’m... I’m sorry, my lord.” I tore away my gaze, looking at the gravel between myself and Lord Kwan. “When I heard, I came up in desperation. My shoes shredded and my lantern ran out of light long before I even made it to your walls. We’re twins, you see. And I can’t bring myself to know a life without him, my lord.”
A long silence.
“You don’t look anything alike,” said Lord Kwan, pondering.
I faced him again, blinking. “We did as babies, my lord. And he’s the kindest brother in the world. When I fell sick because of this,” I placed my fingertips on the large bulbus scar on my cheek, “He climbed up here himself to ask for medicine. And he was in such a hurry to bring it to me, he got hurt coming down.”
“He’s been here before?” asked Lord Kwan.
I nodded.
“And yet, he didn’t know he was hunting on my lands.”
I gasped, realizing my mistake. “He took the stairs to get here that time, my lord. Hunting in the forests... there aren’t any markers to tell us where your lands begin. He wouldn’t have known!”
I caught a glimpse of Gi, motioning for me to calm and flashing a look of concern.
“So, it is my fault?”
I shook my head, feeling cornered. “N-no, I didn’t say that.”
He brushed back some of his smooth, black hair with a flick of his hand, his expression still stone. “Explain it to me, then.”
I did my best, recounting in a more organized fashion and looking to Gi often for cues. I explained our age and the series of misfortunes that befell the village, putting us into a greater poverty as a community. And I made sure to mention the pox that plagued us, and my gratitude for the mysterious Juneun who healed us, and how I gave back in prayer as often as I could. I said it all in the hope of making a better appeal. Though, Lord Kwan didn’t seem impressed in the least.
Instead, he looked me up and down, stoic.
Displeased? Annoyed? Sympathetic? I couldn’t tell.
“What do you want me to do?” asked Lord Kwan, cold in his tone.
I tried to meet his eye without shaking, then bowed low, the best I knew how to do. “Let him go home, my lord. And forgive his mistake. Please.” It was all I could do not to cry in that moment. Hisato’s life was still on the line.
He grunted at my request, and I didn’t know if I should take it as a good sign, or a bad one. “The killing of sacred things cannot go unpunished. Even if I forgave the trespassing.”
I fell to my knees then, begging. “Then let me be punished, my lord!”
He stopped in his words, and I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. I was about to lose my brother.
“My brother hunts because I can’t work like he can. I’m not so strong. So, his crime was because of me. I should be the one punished.”
I wept, afraid of what might happen next. It was still early in the dawn, and I had no one to rescue me. Even if Kenta rode in a gallop the entire way and leapt over the river, he wouldn’t make it in time.
Finally, I was able to reel myself in a bit. Lord Kwan waited until that moment before giving me a command.
“Stand up, boy. And stop your crying.”
I obeyed, my legs wobbly, and wiped my face with my sleeves. But I dared not meet his eye again.
“I will take your offer. Under the condition that you say not a word when he leaves. I won’t have this back and forth begging for each other.”
I nodded.
“If you speak, I will take him back and send you away. And it will be as though you never arrived. Do you understand?”
Again, I nodded at his cold instruction.
“Look at me, and answer.”
I breathed in, holding tight to my chest to muster courage, and forced myself to look into his eyes. “Yes, my lord. I understand.” My voice was a whisper, but it was the best I could do.
He stared at me, watching me shake, but I wouldn’t look away.
“Fetch the boy,” said Lord Kwan with a sigh. “And escort him to the river. He can make his way from there.”
Both Gi and my escort guard obeyed, answering and giving a slight and swift bow before leaving. It was the two of us then. I stayed trembling and staring at the cold features of this lordly spirit’s face. Wordlessly, I said my goodbyes to my family and friends, to the hopes and dreams I had for my future, to the perfect canvas and brush I would never use, the drawings I would never see again, the fields and animals and river that I grew up with. I resigned myself, or tried to.
I held onto that bunny hidden beneath my shirt, telling myself it would be alright. I would be with my mother again. And Hisato would be freed and live a good and long life. My brothers would marry kind and beautiful girls, and have families of their own. Perhaps one of their children would like drawing and painting, and would put my abandoned things to use.
Maybe Fumei would marry Kenta or Raeden, and would cook all sorts of things and be a gentle force in their life. She was kind enough that she might do that for my family anyway, and maybe that’s how she would fall in love. It sounded terribly romantic, and I found a comfort in thinking my dear friend would be there for my family.
The sound of iron and heavy footfall broke my thoughts. My eyes pulled away from Lord Kwan, who’d stayed perfectly still in studying me, and to my brother. Hisato seemed resigned to a gruesome fate, his wrists and ankles in chains. When he looked up, he blinked at me, like he was looking at a ghost. His face paled then, and shouts of protest left him, though the guards shoved to keep him moving forward.
I wanted to say so many things then. To tell him to use any savings he had to hire one of Renzo’s daughters to cook and clean. To sell the sandals I’d woven, and all of my things to be sure they had enough. To replace the ceramic pot and to help father with pickling for winter. I wanted to say that I loved him, and that I wanted him to live the happiest of life for me. To tell Kenta and Raeden and father that I loved them with all my heart. I wanted to say so much, and put my hands tight over my mouth to keep from any of it.
I’d promised to not say a word. My sobs were muffled, and my tears flowed freely.
“Hisa!” called Hisato. “Hisa! What did you do? Hisa, no! Hisa!” He called for me, for some explanation, and I couldn’t say anything—not even to comfort him.
The wood doors of the moon gate closed, but I could still hear my brother calling my name. I fell back on my knees, squeezing my hands over my mouth so hard I thought my teeth might bend. And I stayed there shaking for a long while. Long enough that I didn’t notice when another Juneun walked up. Lord Kwan instructed him to take me somewhere, and he obliged with a soft voice.
“Hey.”
I looked up, seeing the ginger-brown hair and fox ears of this spirit. Whereas the guards looked like fit men in peak health, and their lord ethereal, this spirit looked so strange. I’d never seen such color of hair, except on animals, nor had I ever seen someone with animal ears. And there was only ever one spirit I knew who had anything to do with foxes. A Kurai called Gumiho. But the spirit in front of me was a young man, and smiled gently. He sounded kind, and softened his voice to a coo for me.
“Can you stand?”
I nodded, trying to clean up my face as I did. He helped me to my feet anyway, and held my hand the first few steps as he guided me somewhere. And, though I knew it was rude, I couldn’t help but stare at his ears as I obediently followed.
“Are you Gumiho?” I asked in a whisper.
He stopped, turning to look at me with an embarrassed expression. “No, I’m not. My name is Syaoran. I’m a fox spirit, but I’m not with Gumiho. I’m a servant to Lord Kwan.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling ashamed for having asked. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Most people who don’t know have their suspicion. Spirit or human.”
He continued on, and I followed. I didn’t want to give any reason to upset him or anyone in these walls.
“I saw what you did for your brother,” said Syaoran. “It was brave of you.”
I shook my head. “All I did was beg and cry.” Looking around, I admired the beauty of the house and the other buildings, and of the garden and decorative things that seemed perfectly placed.
“That leg of yours says otherwise. Climbing up here from the lower river is difficult enough in fair weather. But on a rainy night, without even a lantern? I’d say that’s brave.”
“He’s my brother,” I whispered.
Syaoran chuckled. “I wish I had brothers like you.”
“I’m his sister,” I said absently, and nearly walked into him as he came to an abrupt stop.
He looked at me then, wide eyes blinking and fox ears pointed high. “Sister?”
I gave a single nod, and pressed my arms defensively against my chest. Did I make a mistake in revealing that?
He stared at me, taking it in. And then relaxed with a sorry expression. “I think that makes you even braver.”
I stared back at him, unsure what to make of it. There was a comfort in how he spoke, and his handsome features coupled with his strange hair and fox ears didn’t make me feel as afraid as I did before.
We walked on.
“Are you a Juneun?”
He laughed. “Sort of. There’s different kinds. I’d say I’m closer to it than the guards and staff here, but not the same as Lord Kwan.”
I didn’t quite understand, but decided not to pester with any more questions.
I was brought to the kennels. Empty as they were. Syaoran ushered me to one with a thick bed of hay, saying how they didn’t have a place for prisoners and that I would stay here until tomorrow. Then he asked what my favorite foods were, so that I could have them for today. It was a kind gesture, and I tried to take it with dignity. When he left, and the finality of my fate set in, I curled up in the hay and wept.
Fishing out my beloved stuffed bunny, I stroked its soft ears and stared at it like a child. My sole consolation.
Chapter 4
Lord Kwan
The boy in front of him appeared half-starved, a raspy and shrill voice begging and weeping. Always, humans and the lower spirits came only to ask something. He couldn’t recall how long it’d been since a human did actually come to beg something in person. However, he found it no more amusing or moving as the last time. It’d been the lesser spirits with their own agendas for the last century, hoping to play the games of court and elevate themselves.
He was tired. Too much to pay attention to the child’s rambling explanation. A lengthy tale, undoubtedly rehearsed.
His energy spent in preserving the doe’s soul, before it was too late, took its toll on him. Could he weep for the loss, in the privacy of his room, he would. Things were different now. For over fifty years, he hadn’t the will to smile for courtesy, let alone to mourn a loss.
He’d given his judgement, lacking the conviction to entertain anything more.
Syaoran walked to his side, taking instruction and making some question about what ought to be done.
“I’ll deal with this tomorrow morning,” said Kwan before leaving. He shut out the sobbing of one child, and the impetuous cries of the twin, walking back to his room. He shouldn’t have even entertained a hearing. There were more pressing matters.
In the last twelve years, more Kurai trespassed with impunity. Not only on Mount Tora, but in other parts of the land as well. It was a constant test to see if they had the strength to hold back the surmounting evil. If he had the strength. Gumiho had a fragment of his soul in her claws. Naturally, the others would press their luck, assume him too weak.
The trouble was: they might soon be right. It’d been getting harder to banish and fell wicked creatures without his soul. But he wouldn’t risk letting another part of it be taken.
For twelve years, more brazen Kurai used the humans near Mount Tora to lure him out. Using innocents as pawns and play things to get at him. Droughts, floods, pestilence... anything to force his hand and cause him to spend too much of his energy.
He leaned against the north facing wall of his room, opposite the door, and looked out the window beside him. His breakfast went largely ignored. Events so early in the day souring his stomach. Staring out, he watched the birds as they chirped and went about their way, and the breaking of the clouds to allow the sun to shine. Insects sang loudly in the balmy summer day, and the wind sighed pleasantly, bringing the smell of jasmine and tea trees with it.
He was tired. Tired enough to slumber for a century, but unable to sate the desire.
A butterfly landed on the window’s ledge, flexing its wings to drink in the warmth of the sun.
He watched it, wondering if it was alone in the garden. Not likely. Why would it tolerate loneliness? What was the most beautiful of gardens to a butterfly if it was alone? He no longer had the time to compose poems to capture the idea, nor the drive to ponder the musings deeply.
Gumiho was out there. Waiting. With so many of the most powerful Juneun busy against forces elsewhere, who was left to stop her if he fell?
He should’ve sent away the boy, rather than allow himself to indulge the tale and offer a trade. It already took so much of his strength to spare the spirit of the doe. And now its mate, the sacred stag of the mountain, would be without her. There was no fawn between them. Not that he knew. And he pitied the thing, knowing it’d search for its mate to no avail. Until the next life.
The butterfly left as the door opened.
“Lord Kwan.” Syaoran made his polite greetings, waiting for an invitation in. Only after an acknowledgement did he go on.
“Any news on the Kurai?”
“I,” hesitated Syaoran. “I’m not sure.”
Kwan grunted, returning his gaze out the window.
“My lord, about the prisoner.”
“I will carry out the sentence myself in the morning.”
His servant stumbled. “Yes. But, my lord, don’t you think it’s a bit cruel? The child has already—”
Kwan whipped his face to look at his servant, a sever expression marring his features. “Then carry it out yourself. It’s of little interest to me.”
“If that’s the case, why not—?”
Kwan slammed his palm to the floor, a loud thud reminding Syaoran of his place and his overstep. “We are finished discussing it. You can carry out the execution today, or I can carry it out tomorrow.”
Sadness filled Syaoran’s expression. “Yes, lord.”
Kwan relaxed himself, leaning against the wall again, and letting the back of his head thump softly with him on the cool wood. “I’m so tired.”
The young fox spirit said nothing, watching his master with a curiousness.
“Truth be told, I’m glad of the delay. I didn’t know if I’d have the strength to bear such a thing today.”
