The Wind and the Void (13 page)

The hunter never knew Moriko had returned. He couldn’t sense her, and all his attention was on Ryuu. She stepped up behind him and slid her blade between his ribs and back out again, smooth and easy. Her blade went straight through his heart, as she intended. The hunter let out a surprised grunt and collapsed to the ground.

Ryuu saw a shadow, darker than the others, break out of the trees. Ryuu could see it and knew it for Moriko, but the hunter had no idea his life was about to end. A blade pierced the hunter’s heart and he dropped to the ground, surprise still on his face.

Ryuu looked at Moriko. There weren’t any cuts or blood on her, and he assumed she had killed the other hunter. He wondered again what had happened to her. Back on the island, he had sensed a change in her. All afternoon it had been on his mind. She had always been quiet, but her silence held a different quality than it once had. When he had last seen her she had been strong, but not like this.

Moriko studied him, and Ryuu knew she was checking to see how badly he was injured. Without a word, she turned and melted back into the shadows of the trees. For a moment, Ryuu feared she was leaving him, disgusted by his weakness. As he picked up his blade and cleaned the dirt off it, he realized what it was about Moriko that was different. She was stronger, yes, but more than that, she was focused. Determined, even. Ryuu nodded to himself. That was it. She had purpose now.

Moriko turned and went back into the woods. The first hunter, the one who had tried to draw her off, was coming towards her. She had to give him credit for his courage. With the cut on his chest he didn’t stand a chance, and with his partner dead, he knew it as well. The young hunter met his end well. He made one last cut, a fine one by any reckoning. But Moriko sensed it coming and stepped beside it. One smooth cut opened up the hunter’s neck, and he fell to the ground, the last of his life fertilizing the soil.

Chapter 9

Moriko declined to tell her story that evening, opting instead for rest. Ryuu didn’t sleep well that night, nervous about what the new day would bring. He had loved Moriko once. Perhaps he still did, but he wasn’t sure she was the same person he had once known. They slept apart that night, and the chill in the air that Ryuu felt seemed deeper than the winter’s bite.

When Ryuu woke up the next morning Moriko was already awake, moving through her morning practice. Ryuu shook the sleep from his mind, amazed at the difference in her. When they had last been together, he had always been awake first. He watched her movement with interest, studying her technique.

The speed of her practice was startling. Moriko had always been strong, but her cuts today were crisp and fast. She was faster and perhaps stronger than she had ever been before. He was not the only one who had learned much over the course of the past six moons. He knew his perspective was altered due to the lack of his sense, but she was definitely stronger. Last night she killed the two hunters with little difficulty.

One thing was still true. Moriko was beautiful. She moved with speed, grace and strength; and although Ryuu had met many other nightblades, none were as attractive to him as Moriko was. Not even Rei, in all her perfection.

Moriko finished her practice and started heating water for tea. Ryuu said nothing, watching her carefully. Even in her daily rituals she was focused and completely present. He envied her. She was more alive than ever, and he was broken.

When the tea was prepared, Ryuu sipped at it gently. It was delicious, velvety richness blanketing his tongue. It was the best he had tasted in a long time, as long as he could remember. He thought back to Shigeru, who always claimed food and drink tasted better when consumed with dear company. Perhaps his surrogate father had been right about that too.

Moriko began her story without prompting. She spoke of the long days wandering south, the abandoned emptiness of Azaria. Although her voice was steady, Ryuu could tell those had been painful, fearful days for her. Ryuu regretted his decision then. She had gone south alone, and he was not without blame. It had been her decision, and he wouldn’t take that away from her, but it had been influenced in no small part by his desires. He had caused her suffering, and for that, he felt ashamed.

Moriko paused for the first time when she spoke of the one-armed hunter she had killed, and Ryuu understood it was that decision that sparked this change he saw. She had broken her word and killed a man unawares. But as she spoke, Ryuu thought it wasn’t the killing that tormented her. It was the fact she felt so little guilt over it. She had survived.

Ryuu listened with rapt attention as she described the Gathering. He was fascinated by the Azarians. His only experience with them had been in combat against the hunters, but Moriko had lived not just with their hunters, but with all their people. He laughed softly at her experiences at the tournament and her refusal to participate in the mounted archery portion. He tried to imagine her riding a horse while trying to hold a bow, and understood her refusal well.

Ryuu also paid attention to the tone Moriko spoke in. When she spoke of her time among the Azarians, of her hesitant friendship with Lobsang and Dorjee, he noticed a hint of admiration and longing in her voice. She had gone south to learn more about the Azarians and to find who hunted them, but she had discovered a people whom she held in great respect. Ryuu wondered at that.

“If there is one principal which guides them, it is the idea of strength. They are a hard people, and it is difficult not to think of the waste of life they create, but they are not cruel. They are disciplined and able to survive in a hard land. I think. . .” Moriko hesitated, as though the thought itself would bring Ryuu’s anger upon her, “I think that here in the Three Kingdoms we could learn something from them. So many here aren’t able to defend themselves. When villages are attacked, people don’t stand and fight, they run and die.”

Ryuu was angered by her words, but he forced himself to study her. Moriko was a kind person, though her kindness was often shrouded by layers upon layers of silence. It sounded as though she was dangerously close to condoning the burning of villages, but the thought would never occur to her. He tried to understand. She was upset by the carnage the hunters created, and only wanted the people of the Three Kingdoms to be strong enough to fight back, to not die needlessly.

He spoke softly. “If the Azarians come, there will be a slaughter, won’t there?”

She nodded. “I believe so. It isn’t because they are cruel or because they will view themselves as conquerors, but it will happen because they believe only the strong deserve to survive. It won’t be overnight, but in a few moons, many will die as the Azarians cull the weak. There are few in the Three Kingdoms strong enough to survive. Our lives have been too easy.”

Ryuu turned the conversation to a subject more personal. He didn’t want to think about the fate of the tens of thousands of people scattered throughout the kingdoms. “And what will you do?”

Moriko answered him without hesitation. “I will survive.”

Ryuu understood her now. Everything she had been through had stripped her of her other desires, her other dreams. She had become stronger in Azaria, but she had lost a part of herself. In her mind, survival was everything. But it wasn’t, even if she didn’t see it herself yet. If it was just an issue of survival, she would have left already. She wouldn’t be roaming the woods, doing her best to protect the surrounding villages. He probed deeper.

“You plan to leave?”

She nodded again, and another silence descended as Ryuu thought about the woman in front of him.

“When will you go?”

Now it was Moriko’s turn to study him. “As soon as I am able.”

His final question was the most difficult to ask. “Will you stay here with me, at least for a while?”

There was much more he would have said, but the words were too difficult to say.

She stared at him in silence, and he worried he had presumed too much. Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps survival was all that mattered to her. But then she answered, and his heart was filled with a cautious joy.

“I will, for a while.”

Moriko and Ryuu stood in a clearing facing each other, the same clearing they had been in so many moons ago when they were first attacked by the hunters. Prior to the attack it had been one of Ryuu’s favorite places, but now the memories associated with the place made him wish he were anywhere else. It was why Moriko made them come here in the first place. He knew what she was trying to do, but his mind resisted.

It had been two moons since they reunited and Moriko killed the hunters. The height of winter had passed, and although spring was still far in the distance, the days were getting longer. In the time that had passed, they had tried to return to something resembling normalcy, but had failed. Ryuu’s weakness hung between them like a curtain, preventing them from adopting their old lifestyle. He tried to train, tried to recover his strength and his ability, but no effort of his own brought it back to him. Every time he drew his blade he thought of all the lives that had been destroyed through his actions. Takako, Shigeru, Renzo, Rei, even Orochi. Their names and memories were a burden he wasn’t sure he could shoulder.

Moriko had tried training with him a couple of times, but it was apparent there was little she could do. Instead, they spent their time together talking. Ryuu knew Moriko was listening closely to every word he spoke, and he knew she was trying to figure out why he was broken. He appreciated it, but after a moon together, they hadn’t made any progress.

In fairness, Moriko didn’t stay at the hut often. She still made her rounds, trying to ensure the safety of the nearby villages. Ryuu tried to teach her how to sense at a distance, but either he wasn’t explaining it well or it wasn’t possible for her. The only way for her to protect the villagers was to wander from village to village.

They shared a bed a few times, but even that wasn’t the same. Without the sense, it was a different experience. It felt foreign and forced, and after a few attempts they slept apart, unable to bridge the differences between them. Every time Moriko left to make her rounds, Ryuu feared she wouldn’t return.

Moriko had just returned from another trip, and it was obvious she had been considering the problem. With only a few words she handed Ryuu his sword, grabbed their wooden practice swords, and led the way. Ryuu followed without question.

The clearing was silent except for Moriko’s voice. “I will be leaving soon.”

Ryuu’s heart sank. He tried to keep his voice steady. “I figured as much. I wondered how long it would take.”

“You’re a shadow of the man you once were. You can’t focus, and without a clear mind and clear purpose, you’ll never reclaim your sense. I think you’ve realized this as well.”

Ryuu nodded. “But I can’t think through a way to fix it.”

Moriko shook her head. “I don’t think you can think your way through it. Some things must simply be known.”

Ryuu agreed. But knowing the solution was much different than solving the problem.

Moriko broke the silence. “Since the day I met you, you have been torn between two ideals. You want to protect everyone, especially those closest to you. But you also want to live a life of peace, a life where you don’t have to harm others.”

She drew her sword and looked at it. It shone in the early morning sunlight, casting reflections upon the snow.

“A sword is a weapon. A weapon designed to kill. In the hands of a nightblade, it is a weapon of unparalleled danger. You may want to use it to protect others, but if you protect them with a sword, it means you must kill. A swordsman is a killer. You know this, but you don’t accept it. You want only to save, but you aren’t willing to pay the price. The price of protecting the weak is the blood of those who would prey on them.”

Ryuu’s first impulse was to argue, but he realized she was right. Shigeru had said something very similar to him a long time ago, and he had accepted it at the time. But he had changed, and he had hoped he could protect the weak without killing others.

He was about to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. She sheathed her steel and picked up the practice sword again. “I don’t have time to continue to discuss what has happened to you. If I want to survive, I need to leave before the Azarians sweep through this land. But once I loved you, and I still care for you.” Her eyes met his. “Deeply. And to honor that love, I will leave you with one last gift.” She held her sword in front of her, pointed at him.

A hint of her purpose started to dawn on him. He feared what she would say next.

“Today we duel. I will give you a few passes to find your strength, but that is all. I will not kill you, because I don’t know if I could live with that pain, but I will break your right arm and hand. You will never hold a sword again, and your path will be laid out before you. Perhaps you can save others in a different way. It will be up to you to find your fate. But if you want to hold a sword, if you are willing to kill to protect those who need you, you will need to find the strength to defend yourself. It’s the last gift I can offer you.”

Ryuu nodded. It was as he feared. She was leaving, and she was going to leave him shattered. He assumed a defensive stance, prepared for her strike. He remembered the horror of having his arm broken on the island, the physical pain meaningless compared to the pain of losing his purpose. He searched for that feeling again, the feeling of knowing what he was supposed to do.

Moriko sprinted forward, and Ryuu thought of Shigeru, his calm, weathered face as he patiently showed Ryuu a move one more time. He remembered when he had first met Shigeru, being scared and alone, surrounded by bandits. He remembered Shigeru sacrificing his life so Ryuu would have another chance. Shigeru had given everything to give Ryuu the opportunity to change the world. Ryuu watched as Moriko’s hips rotated, clearly projecting her cut. He blocked her easily but didn’t return the strike. He wasn’t fast enough, and he needed to protect himself. Moriko went past him and turned. He had made it through her first pass.