War priest the complete.., p.86
War Priest: The Complete Series, page 86
“That’s far enough, disciple.”
In the recent past, Arik had experienced things that felt as if the world had been stripped away from him. He’d had the proverbial rug swept from beneath his feet, and he’d felt the sting of betrayal, not to mention the glaring pain of combat, injury, and loss. Yet even with the experience from all those occurrences solidly under his belt, he still felt his knees buckle upon hearing a voice that he hadn’t heard for quite some time.
“Master Nankai?” Arik asked, his throat suddenly dry.
The older man threw his hood back to confirm Arik’s suspicions. The combat master now had a brown beard peppered with white splotches, and a bald spot was visible on his usually shaven head. The combat master looked about forty pounds thinner than he had the last time Arik had seen him, his skin darker, age spots visible. While he used to be muscular he was now sinewy, yet he still had the same fierceness on his face, one that could shift from kindness to an intense focus in the span of a second.
“Disciple.”
Arik instinctively bowed his head. “There were rumors that you were dead; Combat Master Altai said otherwise.”
“Altai? You’ve met Altai?”
“Who is this exactly?” Meosa asked as he floated closer to the two.
“The man who taught me how to use a sword,” Arik said, still with his head bowed.
“You’re a Crimsonian?”
“I am,” Nankai told Meosa.
“Yet you were imprisoned by Crimsonians. I guess if they’re pinning some conspiracy to kill Nobunaga on you—that is what you were accused of, right?—it would make sense that they’d capture you.”
Rather than respond, Nankai shifted his shoulder forward, which removed his cloaked hood, revealing an arm was no longer there. “That is not the reason I am with these men.” He returned his focus to Arik. “But that can wait. I have so many questions, starting with your sword and the mask that you were wearing.”
“They belonged to Coro Pache.”
“Now I have even more questions.”
“I’m sure you do,” Arik said.
“I didn’t expect for fate to lead me directly to an old student of mine, or perhaps for fate to lead you to an old instructor, but there is something marvelous about it, isn’t there?” Master Nankai grinned at the disciple. “What a remarkable turn of events.”
Arik didn’t know what to say. He was so overcome with joy at the moment that it was hard to speak. Even if he believed what Combat Master Altai had told him moments before being tossed to his death, he didn’t actually think he’d ever see Nankai again. It truly was fate.
“Apparently, we have much to discuss,” Master Nankai said once Arik didn’t respond. “After hearing what happened to the northern academies, I assumed you, and all like you, were dead. But then I figured that some of the smaller branches were less affected, not to mention those already at clinics and working in the community. I headed north, and found that Nobunaga had done exactly what he set out to do in killing a class of chi users. I’m sure there are still some up there, perhaps in the more remote regions, but it was a true genocide of healers.”
“Master Guri Yarna is with Nobunaga,” Arik said, finally able to form words again. “I’ve seen him.”
“Guri Yarna?” This statement troubled Nankai, the combat master now with a sadness in his eyes that shifted to suspicion. “That doesn’t seem right.” He settled his thoughts with a deep breath. “Yet another thing we can discuss, I suppose.”
“If I may,” said the man who had been imprisoned with them, his family behind him. “Our farm isn’t very far from here. It was where we were taken. If you’d like to join us there, you would be more than welcome. But we shouldn’t be this close to Mount Osore. It is cursed, you know.”
“We would gladly join you,” Nankai told the man. “Please, disciple, remove my binding. They weren’t able to tie my arms, so they tied my wrist to my waist. There’s another thing, before we go. I need you to get my staff. They’ve put it in their weapon storage, which is on the other cart. The staff is quite long, and heavy. Finally, the pack mules they had. We should take what we can, for your farm, of course,” he told the man. “Anything else that isn’t bolted down should come as well. From a shamed Crimsonian to a Jadean farmer, consider it an offering, even though it will do little to compensate for the pain and anguish this experience has caused. And disciple, please see to this woman after you’ve retrieved my staff. You’ll know which one is mine. It is bent very much like the blade of a sword.”
Part Three
.Chapter One.
“As a disciple, your work is pain. You carry it with you so others do not suffer. There is nothing profound about this, but those you encounter, those you relieve of their injuries, will carry a deep respect for what you do. Even so, never forget your work is pain. Never let what you can do allow you to stray from the path of helping others.”
–The updated paths of a Revivaura disciple, written during the Reconstruction period of 801 to 813 by Master Murya Takane in his manual Revivaura: Healing Chi.
The quaint farm sat in the eastern shadow of Mount Osore, the cultivated fields that surrounded the place dense with foliage. During their walk over, Arik had learned that the family grew something known as a konji seed, which was used as livestock feed in the drier regions of the western Jade Realm. The seeds grew in clusters that hung from the trees, and they were collected in wicker baskets and later deposited into larger barrels, which were stored in a building with an A-frame roof with moss twisting up both its sides.
“Not a bad place at all,” Nankai said, the combat master leaning on his oddly shaped staff as he turned to Ochir, the owner of the farm. “It’s exactly as you described it. Beautiful, really.”
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Ochir said.
“We will stay a week or less, and we will pull our weight around here during that time. I assure you that.”
A week? Arik thought. He had yet to ask Nankai if he would be willing to train him, yet now it was clear where this was going, especially after the combat master had spotted Arik with his two swords and made a noise with his throat indicating his interest.
Tayaura did say it could take her a week or so…
“Pull your weight?” Ochir’s wife Laran asked, interrupting Arik’s train of thought. “No, that won’t be necessary. You’ve done enough in just helping us escape the Crimsonians. We can handle the farm ourselves. We have been since my father died.” She lowered her daughter to the ground and the young girl took off running, laughing wildly as she sprinted toward their home.
Master Nankai shook his head. “It would be against my personal code to stay with someone and not help in some way. Besides, my former student here loves to help out. Isn’t that right, disciple?”
Basha, who had joined the group, checked his surroundings and sat down. “I don’t mind helping either.”
“Help? Out of the question. You need to get back to Sukitoma,” Meosa told the skeletal yokai. “He’s the one that needs your help. Without you around, who will stop the tourists from soiling the waters of the lake? Who will grant my old friend peace of mind so that he can walk around his castle naked without prying eyes from the lake?”
“I think he secretly likes the tourists. They make him feel important.”
“Yes, you may be on to something there. He is a vain kami,” Meosa said as he stroked his watery chin. “But he was asking about you, and I shouldn’t be the one that tells you that it will be quite hard to hide a yokai of your size where we’re going. We are going back to Minami soon, right?” he asked Arik.
“That’s the plan,” Arik said, just now able to get a word in.
“In a week, no, six days. On the sixth night we can head out together,” Nankai said. “How does that sound?”
Together? Arik thought. He hadn’t spoken much with his former instructor on the walk over, but he had told him that he was currently planning to go back to Minami, that Kogu, a businessman helping Nobunaga in the Jade Realm, was currently located there.
Nankai must have registered the look on Arik’s face as he spoke again: “Yes, together. It is so very nice to see you again.”
“And he was your student, right?” Ochir asked.
“He was. A very good one too.”
“And you’re a priest? Some sort of healer?”
“I’m afraid not. I’m just an old man these days,” Nankai said with a humble bow. He cleared his throat. “But he has trained in Revivaura. It’s no secret. You saw what he did to your wounds. Now, before we get settled, is there a place that is private where we can talk? The disciple and I have much to discuss; we don’t want to bother you while you and your family get settled.”
“It would be no bother,” Laran said, “but if you insist, there’s an area on the other side of the barn, beneath a tree. My father built some seating there.”
“A space on the other side of a barn beneath a tree? Yes, that would do wonderfully. Lead the way, disciple, and as for the two of you”—Nankai looked from Meosa’s watery form to Basha— “let a teacher and his student catch up in private, will you?”
“If you don’t want us to come, you could just say so.”
“I believe that’s what he just did,” Basha told Meosa.
“Semantics is a battle you will lose against me,” Meosa snapped back.
Arik noticed a tingling sensation as the kami detached from him. Still with his bags and his weapons, he led Master Nankai to the area that Laran had pointed out, where they found a makeshift bench beneath an enormous willow tree.
“Please, disciple, sit.”
Arik did as instructed, and once he did, Nankai leaned on his staff for a moment as he looked him over. Try as he might, Arik wasn’t able to discern the meaning of the look, only that it was quizzical, Nankai’s eyebrows arched to the point that he looked upset.
“Yes, Master?” Arik asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
“Who taught you to do what you did back there?”
“You did.”
“Nonsense. Flattery will get you nowhere with me and you know that. I only gave you the basics. You fought like someone absolutely possessed back there. Who taught you to do that?”
“Hojo,” Arik said, the name escaping his lips before he could fully process the answer. “And my mask and my sword combined. Plus I did a couple of warrior retreats.”
“Warrior retreats? In Iga?”
“That’s right.”
Master Nankai puffed his cheeks out and considered this. “Your mask and your sword, huh? I was wondering why you were dressed as an illusionist wielding a whip sword.”
“They belonged to Coro Pache.” Arik removed the Mask of the Fallen and presented it to his former teacher.
Nankai bent forward, took a look at it, and nodded. “A cursed object, yet you don’t seem injured by it.”
“You are familiar with the Mask of the Fallen?”
“I can sense its power, and I am familiar with Coro Pache and the various tools he used to change the course of our world. He studied at my academy, you know. Personally, I never gave much thought to the War Priest or his legacy. Yet you apparently have.”
“It just sort of worked out that way.”
“How did you know Altai? Let’s start there. No, let’s start with why you are in the Jade Realm in the first place.”
Arik explained how the Academy had been attacked, which elicited a sad sigh from Nankai. He then detailed his trip south to help an enslaved man in Omoto, and how this sparked his journey to Mogra, where he met Combat Master Altai, who put him on a path to get stronger that sent him north, where he first encountered Hojo.
“Crisscrossing all of Taomoni fueled by fate and hope, it seems. And the kami? Where does he come into play?”
“Right. I ran into him in a cave when I was escaping the slavers. We bonded in our own way but he can be…” Arik was at a loss for words.
“I see, continue.”
Arik told Nankai about the training he had undergone with Hojo, how he was suspicious of the master illusionist at first—which according to Nankai, he should have been—and how they later came into contact with the illusionist’s daughter, who was currently in Minami working to infiltrate Kogu’s operation. He told him of the tournament he’d been part of in the south in Mogra, where Arik had seen his sister and Master Guri Yarna. Arik may have won the tournament, but he decided in the end that it wasn’t worth it to kill his opponent, a herder named Domen.
After escaping death, Arik had rejoined Hojo in pursuit of Kogu, a Jadean businessman who was working with false illusionists including the recently killed Sengum Minamoto, whom Nankai had heard of, and Saiyo Haro, whom he had not. This led to a conversation as to who Kogu was and his role in Nobunaga’s spread through the Jade Realm. They discussed how Arik had obtained the Whispering Sword and the Mask of the Fallen, the puzzles he’d solved, and how Hojo had died in the end using a Chimauric skill to protect his daughter by replacing her and receiving a deathstrike for his troubles.
“And that is why you have two blades then, because one belongs to this Hojo fellow.”
“That’s right.”
Nankai slowly nodded. “Then it truly is fate, but before we discuss what happens next, there are a few things you should know.”
****
The combat master stopped balancing on his wooden staff. “I’m sure you already suspected something was off here,” he said as he clicked something at the top of the long piece of wood. The older man drew an odachi sword, which explained why the staff was curved and the weight Arik had noticed earlier.
“I knew something was off about it,” he said under his breath.
Nankai admired it for a moment. “Clever, right? The staff itself serves as a sheath.”
“Where did you have that made?”
“Avarga. If you want shinobi-like items, that’s where you go. Well, perhaps you could find them in Iga as well. As you can likely imagine, it has taken me a little while to understand how to wield it without being able to hold it with both hands, but I’m quite proficient now.”
“I could do something about your hand, well, your arm first, but then your hand,” Arik told him.
“I hadn’t even considered that, disciple. Is it something you are capable of?”
“I’ve done it on myself. I’ve healed breaks on others. I haven’t tried fully reforming someone’s arm, but I have done fingers before.”
“How long do you think it would take?”
“I don’t know,” Arik told him honestly. “It took me several days to completely reform my own arm, but I was able to work on it subconsciously while I was sleeping, and healing myself is always easier than healing someone else because of the way I can cycle my Revivaura and expel injury into the flow of chi around my body.”
Nankai smiled with pride. “Your understanding of chi has certainly improved.”
“I’ve been forced to learn.”
“Yes, sometimes that’s the only way to really drive a lesson home. Perhaps now isn’t the time to heal, especially with what we now have scheduled.”
“Kogu?”
“Yes, and for someone training to be an illusionist, or at least learning from one, you haven’t asked what I was doing in the prison caravan.” Nankai took a knee and gently placed his weapon on the ground. He retrieved its wooden sheath and used his knees to prop it up. Once he did, he was finally, with a little strain, able to return the odachi to its scabbard. “Not an ideal way to handle a weapon, but once I have it out, I generally don’t send it back until I’m done using the weapon. Anyway, as to why I was with the caravan.”
“Yes,” said Arik, “I was going to ask you that. You could have taken them.”
“You think?”
Arik nodded. Without a shadow of a doubt, even without an arm, Nankai would have been able to take the Crimsonians. This was how much faith Arik had in the man who had first trained him. He’d seen slivers of his power back in the Onyx Realm, and knowing blades as he knew them now, Arik could tell that Nankai was a force to be reckoned with.
“Yes, I suppose I could have. But that wasn’t the plan—actually, you disrupted the plan.” Nankai sat on his rear, his legs stretched out before him, staff across his lap. He was more spry than he’d been letting on earlier, and Arik had the notion that the older man could be on his feet with his sword drawn in a matter of seconds.
“How did I disrupt your plan?”
“I wanted to be captured, disciple. And it wasn’t easy, you know. They took this family. I was in the area when I saw them do that. So I caught up with them, where I antagonized the Crimsonians as best I could. When that didn’t work, I stopped the Jadean beggar act and began threatening them in a more Crimsonian way, you know, threatening their armor, poking at the fidelity of their mothers. That worked. That always works. They confiscated my staff—didn’t even notice the weight was off—and took me prisoner as well.”
“You wanted to be taken prisoner so you could return to wherever they were heading. Something like that, right?”
