War priest the complete.., p.74
War Priest: The Complete Series, page 74
Visiting would be interesting, to say the least.
If the Moonagwa guards at the front gate thought anything of the elaborately decorated itako being carried, they didn’t say anything. They merely stepped aside, Arik recognizing two from the other night. The guards kept their eyes down, clearly some sort of superstition when it came to being near a shamanic woman. Soon, Arik and his group had transitioned to a path that had been carved out of stone, which ran in front of the walls of Moonagwa.
It was about a twenty-minute walk before they reached the Mourning Courtyard. The sun had set by this point, everything with an amethyst tint to it. As he had before, Arik stared out over the hills upon hills of graves, the bigger tombs at the back casting their shadows in long spires.
“Lead the way, disciple,” the itako announced.
“I remember which one it is,” said Meosa so only Arik could hear him.
Soon, they found themselves at the entrance of the tomb with the circular grave marker, a location that had been revealed to Arik and Hojo through a cylindrical crystal. As he had before, Meosa swiftly opened the crypt, the stone scraping against stone as he revealed a passageway.
The second man who had joined them produced a torch from the bag that he was carrying. He lit it, and handed it to Tayaura, who used his torch to light another, the illusionist the first to take the stairs down to the crypt. She didn’t seem at all bothered by the darkened tomb beyond, likely because she hadn’t faced off against the Whispering Sword inside.
Arik remembered how perilous that situation had been, the blades whispering all around him as he tried to stop their advances. Yet the weapon was with him now, as was Hojo’s sword, and there was nothing to be afraid of. With this in mind, Arik entered the tomb, the two men coming in last. One still carried the itako while the other handled Hojo’s wrapped remains.
The itako was placed on her feet once they were inside the crypt. She produced some items, and soon, the almost sugary scent of sandalwood filled the chamber. Behind the pedestal where the Whispering Sword had sat was the sarcophagus itself, which Arik had noticed the last time they were in here. Was Coro Pache inside? He felt the hair stand on his arms and the back of his neck as the two large men approached it. They opened the stone sarcophagus, and the same one who had spoken earlier turned to the itako. “It’s empty.”
“Good, that’s what the sister said.”
Arik glanced at Tayaura, but it was too hard to make out the expression on her face. Whose tomb was this anyway? And for that matter, where had Coro Pache been buried? These were things that Arik would need to find out. Perhaps there was information in the biography he had, but he would never know without a complete copy.
Together now, the two men carried Hojo’s body to the sarcophagus and gently set it inside, the brutes surprisingly careful and respectful of the body.
“I hope we aren’t about to witness some blood antics,” Meosa told Arik privately.
But the itako seemed to have other things on her mind. The younger woman sat cross-legged before the sarcophagus and instructed Arik and Meosa to take a seat behind her. Arik expected her to draw blood, but she never went for a penknife. Instead, she produced a pair of hand fans, which she began fluttering in the air around her.
“The great valley is yours, Hojo de Minami,” she said, her voice no longer her own. It was scratchier now, just about as guttural as she could make it. As she continued to move her fans, Arik saw that tiny needles had been forced through the skin on her forearms and her flesh now had splotchy red patches. “Take the great valley, Hojo de Minami. Find the home that you were looking for. Know that your memory will never be forgotten, but the two behind me, united in destiny, will keep your flame alive. Rest well, master illusionist, Hidden Warrior, Hojo de Minami. Rest well.”
It was the first time that Arik had seen any emotion from Tayaura.
After a simple sniffle, her hand quickly came to her face to wipe away a tear. Seeing this was enough to also affect the disciple. It had been too soon for Hojo. If there was a way that he could speak to Hojo again, he would do anything he could to make that happen. As the itako continued, Arik vowed to do whatever it took.
We will meet again, he thought as the itako’s chanting grew louder.
The border of the Crimson Realm needed to be breached, yet Arik couldn’t suppress this feeling that he wasn’t yet ready. Only after meeting Hojo and getting final guidance, would Arik have a fighting chance to rescue his sister and stop Nobunaga for good. The next step was clear even if it had already been decided upon.
“Take the great valley, master illusionist, Hidden Warrior, Hojo de Minami. Rest well!”
****
They moved on after the funeral, the itako and her two men back to Moonagwa; Arik, Tayaura, and Meosa toward the Crystal Castle. By the way that Tayaura was traveling, Arik had a feeling that they wouldn’t get much rest. Like her father, she seemed entirely accustomed to moving at night, attuned to it even. The ends of the illusionist’s robes swept behind her as she walked at a brisk pace, Tayaura always light on her feet.
Memories of Hojo came to Arik as he watched her take the lead. It was hard not to see the Hidden Warrior in the way that she moved as if she were floating. Arik tried not to let his mind get ahead of him, but it became increasingly difficult as they pressed into the early morning hours, a cold breeze twisting around them. The Revivaura flowing within helped with fatigue. He definitely felt the chill of the mountainous realm, a cold that almost reminded him of home. The only thing missing was the moisture. It was dryer in the Jade Realm, which made the air smell different, the environment less muggy.
Tayaura paused at one point to examine something on the ground. She looked up at Arik as he approached. “Some kind of yokai track,” she said, gesturing toward a couple of paw prints which looked as if they had been made by talons. Meosa’s form floated into existence as he examined the tracks.
“We should move.”
“Hainu?” Arik asked the kami.
“No, an ijuu. They are furred beasts, much larger than the two of you. Most are shy and gentle, but if you are in their territory, it may not take kindly to your presence. That was one thing that our itako friend didn’t really mention about the Runesung Passage. Sure, it will connect us to Minami, and it would be faster than heading through the middle of the realm, toward Iga, but we may encounter more yokai along the way, and not all are as nice as the sellers in Avarga.”
“I’m not afraid of yokai.”
Meosa scoffed at Tayaura’s comment. “That is because you haven’t met the right yokai, not to mention kami like myself. You should be afraid of some of these creatures, the more sinister ones.”
“We fought some together in the desert down south,” Arik said, referring to the gaki and the yasha, the latter being a demonic kami that Tayaura and him had dealt with before he knew who she was.
“That doesn’t mean that next time will be any easier. Let’s hurry. The two of you have been walking all night. Surely you don’t want to deal with some crazed yokai.”
“We are already dealing with one,” Tayaura told Meosa as she continued on.
“I am not a yokai!”
Arik quickly caught up with Tayaura, who seemed determined to reach the Crystal Lake by morning. He didn’t think that this would be possible considering how long it had taken Hojo and him last time, the two spending a night at the village beneath the Crystal Lake. But anything was possible. He had come to accept that by this point when it came to dealing with illusionists.
Tayaura gave voice to his concern about twenty minutes later. “Before we rest for the day, I would like you to train me.”
Arik paused. “I was convinced that you were planning on reaching the lake by morning.”
“Not exactly. I just figured that we would do as much traveling as we could the first night, rest, head to the village near the lake for a meal, and finally arrive. Sorry if I wasn’t clear. My mind is clouded.”
“What we should have done is stay in Moonagwa for another night,” Meosa said. “Then we could have taken a carriage or rented some horses. Imagine not having to walk everywhere.”
“Sometimes it’s better to take things on foot,” Tayaura told him.
“I guess I wouldn’t know considering I can just float. Ha!”
Tayaura smirked at the kami. “I have a feeling you could entertain us for hours.”
“Yes, I could, if either of you would actually listen to a damn word I said. You aren’t like your father, I’ll give you that, shinobi-ess, but both of you carry a similar gravitas that makes traveling with you no fun. Again, rest his soul. I shouldn’t speak poorly of the recent dead even if I do so in jest. Moving on. The disciple has a real sense of humor. He always keeps me entertained.”
“I do?” Arik asked.
“No, you don’t, but at least you are fun to tease and somewhat malleable. Anyway, training. The two of you were talking about training and I interrupted you. I’m not sorry for that. I’ve said my piece.”
“I don’t know exactly how to train you,” Arik told Tayaura.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Really, it’s not something that I have ever considered doing before.”
Tayaura stopped walking and turned to Arik. “Do you think my father thought that he would be able to teach a disciple both Thunderaura and Chimaura techniques? No, he simply did it because it needed to be done. I’ve already told you that we should swap what we have learned. I have seen that this is the way forward.”
Arik still didn’t know much about her premonition skills. Was it a forgotten technique, something similar to how Hojo had left the double behind? Yet again, as if she’d been skimming through his thoughts, Tayaura answered his question:
“The School of Illusion generally divided our ranking by what we could do, not how long we had studied. There were four rankings. Ashigaru was the stage that most people are familiar with considering this is where people generally peaked. All the false shinobi would be lumped in here. It was in this stage that one would simply study deception and disguises, combat, infiltration. It was here that you would also learn the very basics of Chimaura, including the foundations for disguising one’s appearance if you completed the trials. Laypeople know some of the techniques from these stages as well.”
“Yes, yes, we are familiar,” Meosa said for Arik. “This was why Hojo had divided the disciple’s training into three main stages—deception and disguises, combat, and infiltration. Although he didn’t really teach him much about Chimaura. I suppose that would make you an Ashigaru, disciple.”
“It wouldn’t be like my father to reveal too much about Chimaura, as you know. But I see things differently. If you show me what you know, I will teach you what I have learned. That is the main difference between us. I am one of the last of my kind, as was he, and rather than try to rebuild, he simply kept everything to himself. If we had died together, and Sengum Minamoto had died as well, that would leave only a handful of people with the knowledge of the School of Illusion, people like Saiyo Haro. I honestly don’t know where the knowledge would have ultimately gone, but it certainly wouldn’t have been preserved in the way it should. Moving on. Illusionist rankings. The next illusionist ranking was Kanja, where one would study Chimaura deeply. This was where one specialized.”
“Did you choose your specialization?” Arik asked, referring to how he had chosen to specialize in the Divine Branch of Wound Transfer.
“No, our specializations choose us. There are a variety that were possible, and, as you can imagine, this wasn’t something that was readily discussed. One’s specialization was private. Mine revolves around premonitions and an extrasensory perception. When I am at my strongest, or focused, I can touch an object and learn things about it. I passed the trials and was ranked as a Shinobi, the third rank, which focused on dark work and light work when the school was disbanded. The final ranking would be where my father had landed, Hidden Warrior. As he was fond of saying, however, everything taught in the School of Illusion was an auxiliary art, meant to be utilized with common sense and Thunderauric practices.”
“Dark work and light work? I recall Hojo mentioning something like that.”
“It is a mystical knowledge, to be sure,” Tayaura told Arik. “There has been some written about it, but the texts are few and far between.”
Arik recalled the bookseller he hoped to visit in Avarga, perhaps on their way down from Minami toward Omoto, the border city where they would meet Istvan and Nyoko. Maybe there is something there about light work and dark work, he thought as he continued his questioning. “You said that specializations were kept secret, what about Hojo? What did he specialize in?”
“What didn’t my father specialize in, is the better question. He was a rare one who was able to move between various Chimauric interpretations. Yet he was never completely fluent in one. He had some premonition abilities, and was good with the ephemeral arts, the kind that pushed away from Chimaura and moved into the realm of Yokaura. That was how he was able to leave a double behind, it was also how he…” Tayaura lowered her head. “It was how he switched forms with me at the very last moment. I knew he was capable of such things, yet he wasn’t the type to ever show what he could do. If you are wondering why I know that it is possible, that we can learn from each other. It is because of this premonition. It wasn’t exactly a vision, more of a daydream, but I saw myself healing my own arm after a wound. You were there. And you weren’t…” Tayaura turned to Arik. “You weren’t so far beyond where you are now. The only problem is, I am unable to see if this is a good or bad thing. If I can teach you to better understand Chimaura, then maybe we will be able to help shape that final day and survive all of this. But you’ll have to teach me too. That’s how this will work.”
.Chapter Seven.
“When an eagle is set to attack, it will draw its wings back and dive toward the ground. How well can you read your opponent? Will you be able to strike them before they strike you?”
–A quote from Combat Master Jurstrom Yinzo, as told to a graduating class of blades at the Double Sword Academy of Combat Arts, Year 787.
It was close to dawn when Tayaura finally found an outcrop with overhanging ledges, one that would provide shade. While there were certainly scattered stones and other larger boulders, the space seemed clear enough for them to practice. Arik tried one more time to convince her that he wasn’t going to be able to teach her, but she remained steadfast in her opinion that she could learn how to use Revivaura.
Now seated before Tayaura, the disciple retrieved one of the kunai that Hojo had given him. He rolled up his sleeves, and Tayaura did the same.
“I suppose we should start with the basics, so you understand what it is I am doing, although this won’t apply to you.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
“Because of my studies. I specialized in the Divine Branch of Wound Transfer, meaning that I do not heal like the others. But I can show you how it works, the traditional style versus what I am able to do. Do illusionists have a technique for focusing? You’re going to need to focus enough that you can actually see the chi around me. We learn to do this early on through meditation and visualization. This is no longer something I have to do to use the power, but it may help in understanding it.”
Tayaura nodded.
“So you have a way?”
“I do. And it is similar to yours. Illusionists begin with basic one-pointed mind tricks.”
“Like?”
“Like focusing on the tip of a flame, or at the center of a mandala.” Tayaura brought a single hand in front of her chest, holding it in prayer position. She lowered her chin some. “This is how they have us sit, with one hand here, the other on our knee.”
“And doing so allows you to see chi?”
“Yes.”
“Does Chimaura appear smoky and somewhat murky to you, the visual interpretation, I mean. Because it does to me.”
“Yes, it does,” she told Arik.
“And Thunderaura is charged.”
“Yes, the combat element.”
“Then if you didn’t know, Revivaura has a water-like look and feel to it.”
“I understand,” Tayaura said, still with a single hand in prayer position in front of her chest.
“I will try to heal as slowly as I can, using the traditional method. If you are not able to see it, I will try until you are.” Arik brought the kunai down onto his arm. He drew a cut, fighting the immediate healing response that came to him. He had never experimented with healing speeds, yet now, as he slowly looked down at his arm, the blood running toward his wrist, Arik told himself to gradually stitch up the wound. As slow as possible.
He could now see the chi hovering all around him, and rather than simply absorb the cut, or disperse it quickly as he normally did, Arik lowered his head and tried to concentrate on attending to the wound gradually.
As if it were being erased, the cut began to disappear. As this took place, Arik hoped that Tayaura could see the activity around the wound, the way the chi buzzed. Revivaura washed over the scattered bits of energy from the wound, and Arik was left with a bit of drying blood on his arm.
