[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

protest. He wills his legs to work.
She howls in agony Her skin gleams with sweat.
The ebon chains hold her fast, spread-eagled in
the center of her world.
He raises his sword, the long blade a bright arc,
and as it comes abreast of her white body, the
music lessens, the sound somehow deflecting off its
honed edges, away from him in a spiraling crescent
of dark energy. His numbed mind begins to clear.
And now he comes for her.
At the verge of the black peaks, writhing now,
less shiny obsidian, more scaly hide. The thing
grasps her tightly. Black and monstrous, it seeks
his death, but he is berserk now, the love a living
pulse within him, feeding his muscles, the fear an
added inducement, and he strikes again and again,
his long blade a white blur singing past her white
body, two spots of reflection in the blackness of
this pit. And the song is death.
The peaks shear away, the air trembles, a
shower of hot, sticky slime, she climbs into his
arms, and still the sword wields destruction
Ronin, come
118 Eric ~ l:'ustbader
Black cormorants wheel into the black suns.
Black stars burst by then
away, now. Oh, Ronin
A wetness against his cheek, and the blade
crying with a life of its own, demanding
vengeance, a hot wind turns chill and a frost
comes as the three black suns converge, trembling
on implosion
Now, now, now
And with a mighty leap, Ronin carries her away
into green mist, into the light of the sea shining
behind her eyes, into the heavy air of Haneda.
Within his powerful arms, she pants heavily as
his lips search for hers. His eyes open and he
covers her naked body in his night-black cloak.
She wrenches her mouth away from his, gasps:
"Quickly. He knows and is coming. Take me
away."
Sheathing his sword, he raced with her to the
window, but the shutters were locked. He grasped
her hand and then they ran from the room. Down
the dim balcony. Above them, he heard a sharp
exclamation and a muMed crash. Nikumu's deep
voice. Past closed doors. The pounding of boots.
Into the doorway through which he had first
come. Noise of pursuit, increasing.
Across the dimly lighted room to the window
gaping open. Gulp of fresh night air, an
intoxicating elixir. Thrusting her out into the
embracing branches of the spreading cryptomeria.
Then turning back into the room.
Nikumu burst through the doorway, sword
drawn, eyes blazing.
"Where is she?" he cried.
"Perhaps you begin to understand now," said
the voice of the other from the inner balcony. He
had not yet come through the doorway.
"Who summoned you!" Nikumu snarled.
"Why," the voice said, equably, "you did, of
course."
This seemed to enrage Nikumu further and he
ran at Ronin.
"I will kill you for this. She is mine!"
And the tall man, lifting his long Bujun blade
above his head, ran at Ronin. He was very swift
but he was not reckless and Ronin saw this at the
last instant, recognised the enormous danger,
dodging the blow and, in the same motion, swept
both legs beyond the window sash. Wood
splintered behind him and he twisted his body in
the opposite direction. Another blow fell across
the window frame and stone shat
DAI-SAN 119
tered in a cloud of dust just as he leapt along the
thick horizontal branch of the cryptomeria, then
scrambled down the gnarled trunk, joining Moeru
on the ground.
He peered up through the gloom of the night.
Nikumu's tall dark figure seemed bounded by two
shadows. His silk robe whipped about him as if he
were some spectral creature.
"I will hunt you down like animals!" he called
wildly. He swung his sword in a great arc. Chips of
stone and wood flew at them with explosive force.
"You are dead now!" he cried. "Dead!"
And a sound swept after them as they ran
through the cryptomeria wood and Ronin could
not tell whether it was the booming of laughter or
the echoing of anguished sobs.
"There is only one place now," he said quietly,
"for us to go."
"Yes. It is not really a difficult problem." His
voice was filled with fatigue.
"So?" The face registered surprise.
"The castle of the Kunshin."
They sat on the covered terrace of a quiet inn
set high up on purple cliffs which dove headlong,
as if suicidal, into the churning combers far below
them. The cool light of the horned moon broke the
froth of the surf into bright diamond shards, the
spindrift into platinum lace.
Above them and to the right, dark pines swayed
in the breeze coming in off the sea like drowsing
sentinels. To the left, the cliffs ran downward
somewhat, covered in a thick matting of scrub and
gorse.
Somewhere high up, a snow owl hooted in the
pines, then fell silent.
On the tiled terrace, covered in tatamis, tea
steamed before them on a low lacquered table.
Rice cakes lay on a tiny plate beside their
half-filled cups. Okami, his wide round face serene,
sat cross-legged, facing Ronin. Within the inn,
Moeru lay in exhausted sleep.
"This adventure was a mistake, I fear," Okami
said. "Nikumu is now your enemy and a more
deadly, implacable foe in all of Eido would be hard
to find."
"He was holding her against her will. If you had
seen "
"She is his wife, after all, Ronin "
"Does that absolve her of her rights to live her
own life? Is this the wondrous Bujun way?"
120 Eric 11: Lustbader
Rushing clouds obscured the moon for a
moment. When its marbled light returned, Okami
said:
"My friend, I understand "
"Excuse me for my bluntness this time, Okami,
but I must tell you that there is no way that you
could understand this situation. In some as yet
unfathomable way, Moeru and I are bound
together." After a moment, he said: "She can
speak to me."
Okami stared out to sea, then he carefully
poured tea for Ronin and himself. He lifted his
porcelain cup with his finger tips and slowly
sipped at the hot liquid.
"There is no use moaning about events which
have already transpired," he said quietly. "Forgive
me, my friend. For good or ill, she is here now
with us. It is our karma."
"And what of the Kunshin?"
Okami's tone became more businesslike. "First,
he is the only Bujun on Ama-no-mori powerful
enough to repulse Nikumu's vengeful efforts "
"But Nikumu is his friend."
"Let me finish, please. It is the scroll of
dor-Sefrith which may save us all now for, you
see, Azuki-iro, it is said, still retains some of the
lost knowledge of the warrior-mages of
Ama-no-mori's past. If it is as important as you
say, then he will have no choice but to hold
Nikumu at bay until he can make some
determination."
"And then?"
Okami shrugged.
"When he has seen what you have brought,
perhaps then he will come to realize the evil that
lies so close to him, that has already begun to eat
into Ama-no-mori. The sasori must be destroyed.
If Nikumu is now their leader, then he must be
the first to die."
Long after Okami had retired to the interior of
the inn, Ronin sat cross-legged on the tatamied
terrace, listening to the relentless pounding of the
surf against the purple cliffs. A grey mist hung in
the branches of the pines like the spun web of an
enormous spider. The stars were no longer visible.
The moon had gone down some time before.
He stared outward into the mist, inward into
the core of his soul. And he made a vow. No one
would stop him. Not Nikumu. Not the Makkon.
Not even The Dolman. He would finish what he
came here to do, for he too had a karma and its
power was too strong to deny. He had no clear
idea as yet
DAI-SAN 121
what would be required of him. No matter. He
knew in his heart that the fate of the entire world
would not, could not, be decided by either Nikumu
or the Kunshin. It could be no one element. Just as
one's life was determined by a multiplicity of
factors, so was history govemed. The battle lines of
his life had been drawn long ago, forged in blood
and pain and loss. And he could not forget. Chill
take Nikumu! And the Kunshin, if he decided
against him. Yet one thing he had come to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]