War priest the complete.., p.52
War Priest: The Complete Series, page 52
We can do this.
The words echoed deep within his psyche.
(We can do this…)
Arik knew his role in this skirmish, and that there may be another way to bring down the gashadokuro now that he had seen its two basic modes of attack. The towering yokai could strike the ground, and it could swing its femur club horizontally. Not to mention its sheer size and density of its bones. But it seemed like the yokai was a bit off balance, that its weapon affected its center of gravity.
And Arik wasn’t the only one who had picked up on this.
Rather than go for the striking point that the Mask of the Fallen had picked out, Hojo began to backpedal, the yokai gearing up for another horizontal attack.
Arik ran after the tip of its club as it missed Hojo, causing the gashadokuro to immediately try to swing it toward him. He had to dive closer to the yokai this time to avoid its attack, their opponent trying to compensate for his proximity.
Its next failed strike caused the gashadokuro to hunch over, the yokai losing its balance. It fell, and as it did Meosa laughed, water spewing out of his mouth. “Talk about the balance of a bloated yamachichi, ha!”
“That’s… that’s fair,” the gashadokuro said as it slowly began to pick itself up. “My name is Basha, and it appears… it appears that I now owe the three of you a favor.”
****
Basha sat along the shoreline for a moment, its big skeletal finger flicking the sand as if it were experiencing melancholy. “I must admit, I’m a little embarrassed.”
Hojo returned his sword to its scabbard and approached the giant yokai. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about. Losing one’s balance is an experience we all must share.”
“But to lose so quickly…”
“It is fine; you did well. A normal person would have been terrified. We are not normal people.” Hojo glanced at Arik, the master illusionist tilting his chin up so a bit of light cut across his face. He still carried a serious expression, but there was a hint of relief to it. Things could have turned out way worse than they did. That much was clear in his facial expression.
“Why were you guarding the shoreline anyway?” Arik asked once neither Hojo nor Basha said anything.
“Sukitoma asked me to. He has grown tired of the tourists visiting every summer and leaving their trash along the shoreline. Do you see how clean it is right now?” Basha lifted its hand and motioned to the right. “According to Sukitoma, it would be filled with everything from discarded blankets to food scraps by this point in the summer. The poor fellow spends much of the fall cleaning it up and doesn’t want to do it anymore. So he asked me to scare off any humans that visited.”
“Sukitoma is an old friend of mine. He would want to see me. By preventing our passage with this mindless challenge of yours, you’ve made an already terrible day worse.”
“You’ve had a bad day?” Basha asked Meosa.
“Not really. But yesterday was pretty bad.”
Basha settled its soulless gaze on Meosa. It was becoming increasingly clear to Arik that the skeletal giant was soft-spoken. He sensed that it had a kind spirit.
“You know, it isn’t often that I encounter a kami.”
“Are you losing your memory? We’ve been over this already, Sukitoma is a bloody kami, just like me but different, so not just like me but just like me enough for us to be similar. I apologize if that statement was exhausting. And for the record, you don’t owe us anything. That was hardly a challenge, even by human standards.”
“No,” Hojo said, cutting Meosa off. “An agreement is an agreement. And there is something that we could use your help for in the future.”
Basha turned its neck to Hojo, a cracking sound reaching Arik’s ears. “Oh?”
“Yes, because of the nature of your size and how humans likely react to seeing you. I’m assuming you don’t know much about the politics of Taomoni at the moment. If you do, then we can skip over that part.”
“No, you’re right, illusionist.”
“Hojo, you may call me Hojo, if you prefer. And this is Arik Dacre.”
“A northern name,” Basha said as it tilted its chin to Arik. “There’s something different about you.”
Arik removed the Mask of the Fallen and tucked it into the front of his robes. “I’m not an illusionist; I’m a disciple from the Academy of Healing Arts. At least, I was. The Academy has been destroyed.”
“Destroyed?”
Hojo took over from here. “The Crimson Realm is in the process of invading the Onyx Realm. As you very well know, the Jade Realm is between the two, meaning it has created a perfect environment for the transport of weapons and hiring of mercenaries. The warlord that leads the Crimson Realm, Nobunaga, has already destroyed the academies in the north. The healers were slaughtered, and as far as we know, there are only two healers still living. Arik, and his former instructor, who is working directly with Nobunaga now.”
“This is very bad to hear. If a war takes place between the North and the South it will start in the Jade Realm as it has in the past. It will fester.”
“Perhaps, and I agree with the festering part. My best guess would be that it eventually starts on the border between the Onyx Realm and the Jade Realm, maybe near Austere.” Hojo paused for a moment. “I do not know if it is within our capacity to stop the war or not, and Arik and I have different perspectives on the best way to prevent the Crimson Realm from advancing.”
“If Nobunaga dies, the Crimson Realm will naturally fall back.”
“Oh?” Basha considered what Arik had said for a moment as it continued to swirl its skeletal finger through the sand. “That isn’t always the case, disciple. There is always a person waiting to step up. But killing this Nobunaga fellow would certainly thwart their advance, and if the person that steps up doesn’t have the same charisma, it might stop the impending war entirely. What is your perspective on that, illusionist?”
“I don’t disagree with that, but I don’t know how easy it will be to get to Nobunaga,” said Hojo. “My perspective is starting with armaments that are being built up outside of Iga, in the Valleys of the Unknowns. I would like your help in disrupting the supply chain.”
“Not a pleasant place, the Valleys of the Unknowns.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“For someone to build armaments up in the Jade Realm, they would have to be working with someone on the inside,” said Basha.
Hojo nodded. “That is exactly what is happening, and after we do what it is we are planning to do here, we will see what we can do to thwart the buildup of those armaments. The problem is there are just the three of us, so your offer to owe us a favor is very enticing to me.”
“I can see why you agreed to the challenge, illusionist.”
“Now you understand why we could use your help.”
“What about Sukitoma? What do you need from him?”
Hojo motioned to Arik as he quickly explained the other reason they had been in this region, how they learned that a cylindrical crystal would help them interpret an image in a book he had, which they hoped would lead to the Whispering Sword.
“The Whispering Sword, yes. I have heard of that weapon. And it would be you who wields it?”
Hojo shook his head. “It would be him.”
“You have the mask, and you’re looking for the sword. You aren’t a reincarnation of Coro Pache, are you?”
Meosa laughed at Basha’s remark. “I thought the same thing, but Coro and Arik have their differences, namely in stubbornness.”
“Well, I find all this very exciting. But if I’m going to help you, I will have to get permission from Sukitoma to leave the lake. He may not want that, especially during tourist season.”
“Sukitoma’s permission? Bah! Don’t you worry about that part. Sukitoma and I are a pair of kami that go way back. He’ll agree, trust me. And he can go one more harvest season with a dirty beach. It’s not like he has anything else to do aside from clean it up once autumn comes.” Meosa shifted toward the Crystal Castle. “He never leaves that place.”
“In that case, I guess you should go to him now. We can continue our dialogue after he has made his decision. I will be here.” Basha got to its feet. The enormous yokai lifted its femur club and rested it over one of its shoulders. “It has been nice speaking to the three of you. I enjoyed your company, even if it was brief and humiliating on my part.”
.Chapter Three.
“Become your enemy so you can better understand their strengths. Feel the whole world is against you, and act accordingly.”
–Combat Master Baldree Yamanouchi, as told to his biographer for the Crimson-Onyx Shroud War memoir A Year of Slaughter, Year 1087.
Arik felt as if he were running on water, yet his feet never touched the surface of the glacial lake. Meosa also carried Hojo, who stood in a relaxed way, his head slightly tilted down as if this kind of movement was something he was accustomed to. They reached the outer walls of the Crystal Castle, Meosa’s form ballooning in size until it was much larger than Basha, who had remained on the shoreline.
“Sukitoma, let down the drawbridge or I’m coming over the wall. I know you must have been watching. What else is there to do in this blasted castle of yours? Open up!”
For a moment, Arik thought they were going to have to scale the glimmering wall, but then the drawbridge began to lower, no sound associated with the mechanical procedure. The crystal drawbridge lowered and Arik and Hojo were safely set onto it, Meosa taking a smaller, yet thicker form between the two of them.
“Don’t be shy…” Meosa waited for some kind of response, and once it didn’t come, he motioned for Arik and Hojo to follow him in. “Sukitoma is a good fellow, believe me. At least he was, five hundred years ago. Who knows what five hundred years of being treated like a zoo animal has done to him?”
Being inside the walls of the Crystal Castle was an otherworldly experience. Arik and Hojo stepped into a grand entryway, with a texture that matched what it would resemble in the real world. The ground was slightly coarse like it was made of curated stone, the walls slick and polished complete with visible veins, as if they were marble. Even stranger was how the light came through the walls, a kaleidoscopic effect in certain corners, much of it concentrated into a single beam, where an entity made of crystal now stood.
“Look what the tanuki has dug up!”
“Sukitoma!” Meosa moved forward and hugged the crystal kami.
“I haven’t been this wet in ages,” Sukitoma joked as he shook the water off of his crystalline arms.
The kami’s body was fashioned into that of a short man, no taller than four feet, extremely thin yet muscled. A crystal cloak covered Sukitoma’s shoulders and his crystal pants seemed expertly tailored, his feet bare. His liquid blue hair was cut short and parted down one of the sides. When he spoke, the color of his face morphed into something that bordered on turquoise. “I see you have brought guests.”
“These two? Eh, it’s a long story. They may look a little rough around the edges, but I assure you, they are decent enough humans.”
“A long story, huh? Well, I don’t know about you, but I have all the time in the world. Shall we discuss it over a meal?”
“Neither of us need to eat,” Meosa told Sukitoma, both of them chuckling at the statement.
“Yes, but humans find it a necessity. Pluck a few fish from the lake, will you? I’ll meet you in the kitchen. The illusionist likely knows how to prepare raw fish. Is that the case?”
“It has been a while, but it is something I know how to do, yes,” Hojo assured Sukitoma.
“Great, then join me. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he told Meosa, who was already starting to leave through the open drawbridge.
Sukitoma led Hojo and Arik to a dining room, one marked by a long table with crystal chandeliers hanging over it. “Please, sit. I will return with the knives that you will need to filet the fish.”
“I have kunai.”
“Do you, now? In that case, let’s see it. And we will find out which one is sharper.”
Hojo produced one of the throwing daggers and carefully set it on the crystalline table. Approaching it, Sukitoma placed a single finger next to the dagger. As he did, Arik heard a crackling sound. A clump of crystal appeared and shaped into an exact replica of the kunai.
“Well, what do you think?”
Hojo respectfully examined what Sukitoma had created. “It is a masterwork.”
Sukitoma laughed in a joyful way. “I’ve been at this for quite some time, illusionist. And dare I say… master illusionist? No, it can’t be. You are a Hidden Warrior, are you not?”
“What gave it away?” Arik asked, realizing after these words left his lips that they sounded more like something Meosa would have asked. Maybe he really is starting to rub off on me.
“Something about the way that he holds himself.”
“I was once a Hidden Warrior, yes. I don’t consider myself one now.’
“Nonsense. You never forget a training like that and you know it. I can’t tell you how long it has been since I met a Hidden Warrior.”
“You may call me Hojo.”
“Hojo, yes, short and to the point. No flowery words needed. As you already know, I am Sukitoma. And you… what is your name?”
“Arik Dacre.”
“A northerner becoming an illusionist? What are the odds? Generally, northerners only dabble in Revivaura.”
“I am a disciple.”
“Ah, yes, that’s what it is. I knew there was something different about you. You don’t hold yourself the same way as someone from the Jade Realm. What odd bedfellows, truly. A water kami that I haven’t seen in five hundred years, a Hidden Warrior, and a northern disciple. If someone had told me that the three of you would be the first visitors I would have this summer, I would have told them they needed to lay off the ale. Yet here the three of you are, well, two of you, anyway. What a joy!”
“Don’t believe anything he says.” Meosa joked as he entered the dining room, the kami levitating a sphere of water. Three large fish twisted back around one another within the sphere, confused. “I hope three fish is enough.”
“It is plenty,” Hojo said. “Thank you, kami.”
“Good. Then you can prepare them while I catch Sukitoma up.”
The crystal kami took a seat at the opposite end of the table. “Yes,” he said as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fists. “I must say, Meosa, I am very curious about your sudden appearance and your current company. I look forward to hearing your tale.”
****
Eating fish raw wasn’t something that Arik had done before. Most of the meals in the Onyx Realm centered around hardier things, even close to the coasts, where sea carp and seafood stews were popular. It was a different experience entirely, one augmented by the fact that he was eating the fish raw in a dining room made completely out of crystal, Meosa doing most of the talking at this point as he caught Sukitoma up.
“What a story,” the crystal kami said once Meosa more or less finished his explanation. “What a story! And it was all random, that’s what I like most about it. Truly, by the fates! It is amazing how these random occurrences can go on to change our lives. Had you simply tried to hide in any other cave, you would have never met Meosa. Had you visited Omoto at a different time, you would have never met Hojo. Where would that lead you now? Where would a wayward disciple be without his friends? How different would your journey have been without my dear old friend helping you along the way?”
Wayward? Arik smiled at Sukitoma. “It would have been different, I’ll say that.”
For the most part, Arik got along with Meosa, but there were several decisions he made that were entirely his own, and while he appreciated the kami’s guidance, he knew that Meosa had his own motives as well. But the crystal kami was right in the end, things would have been very different had he not met Meosa, or Hojo for that matter, both occurrences seemingly random yet miraculous in their own ways.
“You really are special, you know that. Unique. Both of you are,” Sukitoma said, motioning from Arik to Hojo, who was carefully cutting another piece of fish.
“Yes, they are special in their own ways, for humans, at least.”
Arik waited for Meosa to follow that up with a snide remark, but it never came.
“What about you?” Hojo finished his piece of fish and looked up at Sukitoma. “What is your story? Why are you in the same castle five hundred years later?”
The kami gestured around. “It is a grand castle, isn’t it? But, that is a fair question. I’m here because it is difficult to move. Not physically, just emotionally. What can I say? I’m attached to the place. I have lived here for some time and aside from the tourists, which I have dealt with through Basha—”
“Let’s put a pin in that,” said Meosa. “Go on.”
“Aside from the tourists and crazed itako, I have memories here. Plus, it is convenient for me. Seeing the sun rise and set every day, its reflection on the surface of the water and the inner and outer walls of the castle I have built. There is nothing like it. This evening, and tomorrow morning, I would ask that you join me on the rooftop. You will see what I mean. The mountains and the water all around me, the light reflecting off the water and from my crystal. It is a true pleasure, a view that never grows old.”
