War priest the complete.., p.63
War Priest: The Complete Series, page 63
Arik shrugged. “Kogu doesn’t seem to care what the Crimsonians do. Whoever he’s paying off in the government doesn’t seem to mind either.”
“Who?”
Arik explained who Kogu was, the businessman facilitating Nobunaga’s push behind the scenes, and some of the things they had done to get the information about the supply chain.
“I was unaware of this man,” Istvan said. “But he sounds like a true coward. Anyone that would sell their country out like that…”
Arik sat as well, glad to be able to take the load off for a moment. “Maybe he has some sort of agreement with Nobunaga about what happens after he’s taken our home.”
The northern man’s disposition soured. “Nobunaga won’t reach the border. I won’t allow it.”
There were numerous ways to react to a statement like this. One would be to offer Istvan a sad laugh for thinking that one man was going to be able to stop the swell of a Crimsonian army, but that was exactly what Arik was trying to do, and he found Istvan’s willingness to be open about what he planned to do inspiring.
So Arik merely nodded.
“Well?” Istvan asked.
“Yes?”
“Are you with me?” Istvan grew serious, a fire burning behind his eyes. “Are you willing to risk it all?”
The attack at his academy, his family, everything that had happened since came at him in a flash, a cluster of broken images. “I am.”
“Good, because once I start, I won’t stop.”
“I…” Arik bit his lip. “I can’t guarantee something like that, but it has been my goal since the start of this to stop Nobunaga. We may not completely stop their advance, but we will severely wound it.”
Istvan looked down at his fists, which were now clenched tight. “Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“No, it’s good. It’s good to be as willing as you are to do what needs to be done.”
“I’ve always felt shame, you know.”
“For what?” Arik asked, assuming that Istvan was referring to not taking action against the spies that came through Austere.
“For not following through with my disciple training. It has come in handy, you know, being able to heal. I wouldn’t be able to use my weapon without it.”
“You did what you had to do. Your family needed you.”
Istvan shook his head. “I just wish I had been there when they came to the academy.”
“It was chaos. No one was prepared for a slaughter like that,” Arik said, growing dark as he remembered how cruel the ambush had been.
“I can only imagine. I still wish I had been there, though. I know that sounds stupid; I know that there was probably nothing I could have done, nothing anyone could have done.”
Arik had found himself in the same mindset. Rather than reply, he listened to Istvan tell him how he felt until the northern man suddenly stopped, as if he were feeling shy. Istvan stood and walked to the edge of the bluff. He placed his big boot on one of the roots and looked out at the outline of the supply chain.
“We’re going to do this,” he said with certainty. “It doesn’t matter to me what happens next.”
It did matter to Arik. He had to rescue his sister and get to the bottom of why his teacher Master Guri Yarna had betrayed him. But he could appreciate the sentiment.
Istvan was right in many ways.
****
Nyoko and Istvan made a good team. After the Jadean mountain woman returned with a collection of roots, three plump squirrels, and a type of grass Arik hadn’t seen before, the two set about making a small fire while it was still light, one concealed by the trees.
“We’ll have to cook quickly,” Istvan said, “but we still have several hours before sunset.”
They did just that, Nyoko preparing the meat and telling Istvan what she needed, the northern man obediently following her orders. Soon, Arik had roasted squirrel on a stick—something he could have never fathomed eating before—flavored by the bark and wrapped in the grass that Nyoko had found.
It was a good meal, and they were just hiding the fire when Arik sensed a presence.
“That’s right,” Meosa said, swirling into existence near the disciple, “I’m back!”
Nyoko smiled at the water spirit; Istvan still seemed reluctant regarding Meosa’s presence.
“Where’s Basha?” asked Arik.
“Laying low at the moment, my boy. He’ll come this way once it is dark. Don’t be surprised to wake up in the morning and see an enormous skeleton looking down at you. This is quite the spot you have here.” Meosa took a quick look around. “Perfect view too, if it wasn’t for the mist.”
“It’ll work,” Arik told him. “Has Basha had any contact with Hojo or Tayaura?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“What… what do you think they’re doing down there?”
Meosa snickered at Arik’s question. “The shinobi daughter and father? How would I bloody know? They are both trained illusionists. For all I know, they’ve conned their way into the upper echelon running the three camps by now and have begun slowly poisoning the soldiers. I have no way of knowing unless I go down there and try to find them.”
“That could work.”
“It would work.”
“We don’t want to just stay here,” Istvan said. “If you go, we go.”
Meosa laughed bitterly at the statement. “Oh? So everyone is a trained shinobi now? Everyone knows how to disguise themselves to the point that you can infiltrate a camp filled with mercenaries and elite blades from the Crimson Realm? What about the wolf woman? Does she know how?”
“It’s a mountain lion,” Nyoko said, referring to her cap.
“Relax,” Arik said, mostly for Meosa, but also for the other two. The kami took some time to get used to, something that was clear in how the others reacted to him. “You and I will go.”
“Yes,” Meosa said, “that would certainly work. Just get me close and I’ll do the rest. There are likely traders and other services, like pillowers, outside the walls they’ve erected. Even if this is supposed to be a secret build-up, soldiers are going to want to buy things, and they’re going to want other services to release their various human tensions.”
“And we’ll just stay here?” asked Istvan.
“Yes, you’ll stay here keeping Basha, our giant skeleton friend, entertained. We’ll go, return with news of what we should do next, then we’ll do it. The disciple and I have trained extensively for this, even if he doesn’t look the part.”
“You’ve trained as an illusionist?” Nyoko asked. “I thought that man with you was just teaching you combat.”
“Among other things, yes,” was all Arik said.
“So you can use Chimaura?”
Arik was firm in his answer to Istvan. “No, and Chimaura isn’t what you think. It isn’t what anyone thinks. It isn’t like Revivaura or Thunderaura, or even like your weapon, Yokaura.”
Istvan crossed his arms over his chest. “I hate that explanation. It’s the one they always give when you ask someone from the realm about it. ‘It’s not what you think’ or ‘it’s happening everywhere all the time and it can’t be explained.’ How hard can it be to understand? Revivaura is for healing, Thunderaura for combat, Yokaura for crafting, Chimaura for—”
“Crafting? Yokaura isn’t merely for crafting,” Meosa told him. “But sure, believe the simple version. As for Chimaura, you’re asking the wrong person. If you want to know more about it, ask the illusionist or his despotic daughter when we return with them sometime tomorrow. I’m done arguing. It’s been a long day and even though I don’t need sleep, I’d like to see the three of you get some rest. Remember what I said: don’t be surprised to find a giant skeleton lurking around here in the morning.”
.Chapter Six.
“If you plan to carry out treachery, send salted fish. If you plan to commit arson, send dried fish. A request for provisions should come with rice cakes. Send sweet cakes when asking for forces to attack the enemy. When sending these things you should attach a normal letter. The receiver will understand the message and act accordingly.”
–Madame Noll Arimask in her Scroll on Better Order, later published in the Jadean Book of Proverbs, Year 1475.
Meosa wasn’t wrong in his warning about Basha. The next morning, Arik blinked his eyes open to see the large skeletal yokai sitting on the ground, similar to the way he’d sat when they first approached him at the lake, Basha’s femur club at his side.
“Good morning, disciple,” Basha said, his booming voice startling Istvan and Nyoko, who instinctively grabbed her axe, her breaths short and staccato. As he had been wearing before, Basha was in a pair of epaulets connected by a thick leather strap that dangled over his rib cage.
“I told you two not to be alarmed,” said Meosa, who now floated next to Arik, his translucent form rimmed in the pale morning light.
“Yeah.” Istvan swallowed. “You did. But…”
“But what? I said he’d be a giant skeleton.” Meosa tilted what could be construed as his head up to Basha.
“Hi, everyone. Don’t be scared. I’m here because of a blood-debt.”
Meosa snorted, water misting the air. “And this one doesn’t even have any blood!”
“Blood debt?” Istvan asked Arik.
“We beat him in a challenge, and he agreed to help us.”
“I also don’t want war in the Jade Realm,” said Basha. “I’ve seen too much of it in my time.”
“Humans and their wars.” Meosa deflated to some degree. “Well, disciple? Are you going to get dressed up or what? I’m sick of watching the three of you sleep. We need to get down there and find the illusionists.”
Arik turned away from the others and took a few steps past Basha.
“Yes?” Meosa asked as he appeared at the disciple’s side, noticing his apprehension.
“What should I go as?”
“You have three basic options, my boy: beggar, nobleman, or entertainer. Which would make more sense out here? Why would a beggar be in the Valleys of the Unknown? And for that matter, why would a nobleman show up unannounced? Need I say any more?”
“I…” Arik looked back to the others. “I don’t want to do this around them.”
“Fair enough.” Meosa turned back to Istvan and Nyoko. “We’re leaving to gather intel. Don’t do anything stupid like follow us. We’ll be back before nightfall with either information or illusionists. Both, if we’re lucky.”
“And if you don’t return?” Istvan asked.
“If we don’t return? If we don’t return, I’d say head back to Iga because it means we have died or are currently being tortured. If we’re dead, the two of you will most certainly get yourself killed as well. Sorry to say, hammer boy and mountain lion. In that case, if you value your lives, and I hope you do, you’ll go back to beating each others’ brains in through warrior pilgrimages. Basha, I have no idea how your death would work, so I can’t comment there. Just go back to doing what you were doing and consider your ‘blood debt,’ as you put it, paid in full.” Meosa gave the group a pair of watery thumbs up. “I believe that settles it. Onward, disciple!”
****
“You didn’t have to do it like that,” Arik told Meosa once they were a few minutes away from the group.
“Ha! Back there? It’s always best to be honest, my boy, and if you can be blunt as well, do that too. No one likes a person who dances around the tails of the kitsune.”
They continued on, and eventually reached the point that Arik needed to apply his makeup. Crouching behind a pair of trees shrouded by thick vines, the disciple went with the same scheme as he had in Moonagwa—white across his entire face, a red circle in the center of his forehead, elaborate eye make-up, his hair in three ponytails.
Meosa laughed at him once he’d finished. “I can see why you didn’t want to do this in front of the others.”
“Just playing the part.”
“And I’m assuming I’ll be the one doing the talking?”
“No, I will. You’ll be the one doing the magic.”
“Fine.”
Arik’s next step was hiding his sword in his pant legs and using his haori cape to change the way he looked, the disciple rolling up the sleeves of his robes as well.
Once he was ready, Arik walked in a way that would let him drag his foot a little, a change to his gait. He hunched one shoulder forward too, meandering along and starting to feel like he was in someone else’s body.
The mist grew thicker as he neared the first military camp. Even if it was still obscured by fog, the telltale signs of humanity were already present. Arik noticed everything from discarded wooden wheels to horse droppings, clothing, and a sandal or two that had been lost.
“Your kind really is a mess,” Meosa told him. “Filthy, really.”
Arik entered what resembled a bustling outdoor market, albeit one with square-hatted Crimsonian guards standing at the entrance. There were other types of guards as well. Arik recognized that some of them wore hats similar to Tatum, the man he had once challenged and who had later won the Mogra tournament, but these hats had vertical markings weaved into them. Others had smaller, square hats that sat on the tip of their crowns. The strangest ones wore wooden bird masks instead of hats and carried cages, the disciple not certain what their role was.
This area was cordoned off from the front of the installation, which was heavily guarded, a distance of about twenty feet between the start of the first camp and the outdoor market. It seemed like the only thing being let in were tiny sparrows, which filled the air with the sound of their chirps as they passed overhead, some with golden tail feathers.
Arik caught sight of more Crimson flags, their maroon hues cutting through the gray mist in a way that reminded Arik of the bloodlust he experienced when wearing the Mask of the Fallen. It was a lot to take in.
“Keep moving, disciple,” Meosa told Arik after he’d come to a full stop.
He swallowed and pressed on, Arik searching for any signs of Tayaura or Hojo.
Now that he was here, he had no idea where to begin when it came to finding the three, Arik wishing there was another way for him to easily locate them. I could always send Meosa out, he thought, but if he did this, Arik would be all alone, something that didn’t bode well for the disciple considering the proximity of Crimsonian soldiers, both on and off duty.
Arik came to a series of tents that had been erected, strips of fringed red fabric hanging over their doors.
A woman spilled out of one of the tents, clutching her blanket to her chest, laughing as she was pursued by a muscled Crimsonian man. He lifted her over his shoulder and carried her back in, revealing a sliver of flesh on her flank as he did so.
“You don’t think Tayaura has become a pillower, do you?” Meosa asked.
Arik shook his head. “There has to be hundreds of people out here.”
“If there are that many here, imagine how many are actually inside. I’d put good sen on the fact that the Jadean Government is in on this in some way, at least the provincial government. There’s no way Igan officials wouldn’t know this is happening. The supplies it would take to run the place alone. It is too early to truly tell, disciple—remember in this world and any other, iniquity and politics go hand in hand—but the Jade Realm may be making their play here alongside the Crimson Realm to take the north. Where this leaves their relations if they succeed in conquering the Onyx Realm is anyone’s guess. But they have chosen a side.”
“You think?” Arik came to a hastily erected structure with a large cloth awning over it, one serving bowls of soup and racks of meat.
“That is clearly the case, disciple.”
A hand grabbed Arik’s arm from behind, startling him. He turned to find a familiar face, his shoulders relaxing to some degree.
“What are you doing here?” Tayaura hissed, the illusionist wearing an apron stained with food, a ladle in her other hand. She’d pulled her short hair into a side ponytail and had used brown shading to make her face look gaunter than it normally was.
“Looking for you,” Arik said as she pulled him to the side. “Where’s Hojo?”
Tayaura narrowed her eyes on Arik as she blew a single strand of hair out of her face as she tilted her chin to the north. “He’s inside the walls.”
Arik looked toward the installation, the mist cleared up enough now that he could see some thatched roofs beyond. “Really?”
“He is supposed to be out by now. Now, tell me why you are here. Explain why you haven’t waited for us to come for you instead.”
****
Tayaura met Arik in the woods outside of the entrance gate. She now wore black robes, and as she approached, she affixed a white kitsune mask to her face.
“Is the mask really necessary?” Meosa asked.
“You said that others had joined you. Keeping my identity from them is important. You’ve already failed in that endeavor.”
