Blades Falling Softly, page 11
part #1 of The Brightest Shadow Series
"Then tell me the stakes. Tell me what you want, and if it's within my power, I'll find a way." For an old warrior to promise the Zeitai a boon was absurd, and Canumon saw a flicker of amusement on the Zeitai's face. But then his eyes became hard and shifted into the distance.
Toward a dark tent invisible in the mists.
"It doesn't matter what I want, but what he wants. This is the first time the Dark Lord has stirred in my lifetime."
The Dark Lord? Though Canumon might have sworn on his name on occasion, he wasn't sure that he truly believed in such a figure. The Zeitai were a fact of life, the exemplars of their factions and a driving force in the mansthein world. Believing in some shadowy master who stood behind them was impossible to accept, yet now it was his reality.
Behind him, the conversation between Anyinn and the West Wind continued. Canumon still couldn't understand their words, but the tenor suggested that they were not about to die. He took a deep breath and bowed to the Zeitai as low as he could.
"Zeitainan, please. Can his purposes be accomplished without war?"
"His purposes? No. But perhaps they do not require a war today." With that the Zeitai abruptly turned and stepped off the side of the walkway, dropping back toward the camp. Not long after, the West Wind made a final statement and then departed in the opposite direction.
Canumon collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, and he found himself sitting on the cracked marble alongside Anyinn. Before they could catch their breath, both sides came to take them away.
Anyinn
Anyinn sat and stared at the page, as if by sheer force of will she could force it to reveal her own thoughts to her. Whenever she had a moment to sit down, she attempted to distill her thoughts into a form that would make sense to anyone who had not lived through the events. She might communicate a battle between masters - many plays and ballads did - but she could not bring herself to put words to the light and shadows that dominated her world.
Eventually her time withered and she set aside her quill in exchange for her sword. Their gambit had worked for the previous day, but there would be no more delaying: it was time to actually fight.
In all the turbulent uncertainty, Canumon stood firm as one piece of solid ground. With the Zeitai casting a shadow over everything and the mansthein man giving him an odd amount of respect, there had been moments when she doubted, but not any longer. They had fought and known one another's souls. That meant something that could not be denied by any story.
She left her room at the very hour the clan representatives came to escort her: robes in order, sword sharpened, sein prepared. Feinouya herself met her on the way, regarding her for a long moment before she finally nodded.
"You look ready. Whatever else you feel, you cannot hold back in this battle."
"I understand." Anyinn set aside the issue of what they would do, since she would have only a few moments with the clan head. "But what is our goal now? Do you think the mansthein will attack if they lose?"
"Winning or losing is less important than making everyone believe that your gambit yesterday was no mere ploy." Feinouya stopped and caught the hem of her robe, holding her in place. "Do you understand me, Anyinn? You don't need to cut off the Deathspawn's head, but you need to fight him sincerely. We don't know how many will be watching."
Though Anyinn hesitated at the word, she decided to press on. "I thought this would be a mostly private fight."
"But the Deathspawn will have spies and the West Wind will be watching. Foreign savage... I'll admit he's strong, but I should have known better than to think he could take a role in Nolese politics..."
It seemed to Anyinn that they had left politics behind many days ago and now all played minor roles in some far worse game. She folded that thought away along with all the others and instead focused on honing her mind to a fine point. There were several potential directions their fight could go and she needed her full attention for all of them.
Instead of one of the grand dueling diamonds outside the lodge, they would fight in one of the chambers of the central building. Perhaps for the sake of privacy, or perhaps simply because their duel would not be impressive compared to the masters. Yet when Anyinn arrived, despite what Feinouya had said, there was a crowd of clan members on one side and mansthein on the other.
Canumon knelt in front of them, his hands calmly on his knees. She wanted to catch his eye and give some final indication as to what they would do, but he was a statue. Perhaps they would simply have an honest fight and that would be the end of it.
It began with less fanfare than any of their previous duels, barely even the traditional chimes. Anyinn drew her sword and set it in position, watching as Canumon rose and placed his feet in a familiar pattern.
She needed to resist the urge to smile as they began to move as they had so many times before. Though it was their familiar pattern, this time they held nothing back, each striking out with blows that could easily have been fatal. The familiarity made it easier for her to strike relentlessly, and the very aggression in their movements made it simple to avoid serious injury. Though anyone watching would have believed it was a fight for their lives, it was no different than their usual pattern.
Surging Leviathan. Waterfall Cascading Upward. Punishing Willow.
As always, she ended by manifesting her Tranquil Blade and driving it into his heart, but this time, Canumon copied her. The blade formed from his sein was not an exact copy, instead showing that he had deeply understood her technique and created something of his own. She wished that they had years to show one another the results of their lives, but the duel was over and the sein rushed through her.
His memory might not have been as pristine as her tranquil lake, but the emotions were overwhelmingly powerful. Anyinn completely lost her body and drowned in that night their families had shared together. Feeling it from his perspective made her cling to the foreign sein instead of casting it out, but in the end everything would return to equilibrium.
Opening her eyes, Anyinn saw the ceiling framed by a number of concerned faces. She weakly struggled to her feet, for the first time feeling the minor wounds she had taken throughout the fight. Even if they had avoided mortal blows, it was impossible to fight so passionately without trading injuries.
Most importantly, Canumon lay in a circle of his allies, apparently unconscious. She knew that he wasn't injured by her technique, so he must be prolonging the effect in order to make it look authentic. His sein had certainly taken a toll, given the concern she saw on the faces around her. Somehow her sword had fallen across the room and she sluggishly limped to pick it up.
"The duel is over, and the rite is concluded." Feinouya stepped between the two groups. "No territory is granted to any foreigners, but if he lives, Canumon will have earned the right to challenge for the territory at the border of the Taynol Valley. Further rites, especially by any other outsiders, must be negotiated on their own terms."
Not quite what they had hoped, but it was enough. Anyinn sagged back to the floor and let allied hands carry her deeper into the lodge. Since she had fought a duel for the clan and the head seemed pleased, she was immediately attended by healers, including an Estronese master. Even he could do little for the sein impact, and the healing left many deep aches, but by the time they concluded their work, her body felt mostly recovered.
"You've done your clan a great service," Feinouya said as she entered. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed everyone else in the chamber, then knelt down beside Anyinn. "If there is something you desire, I could try to grant it."
"I want... to rest." It wasn't what she had intended to say, but it was true. Anyinn considered changing her statement, yet there was something in the clan head's eyes that made her withhold her opinion.
"You would be an excellent warrior against the Deathspawn, but I respect that. Perhaps you and your family could be moved to one of our far-off holdings? There you could recuperate while the conflict with the Deathspawn becomes bloody."
"Why don't you call them the mansthein?"
Feinouya drew back, not in surprise but as if disappointed. "It doesn't matter what word they use for themselves, their identity has been made clear. So many generations have lived and died waiting for it, but now we live in the days of the Legend. I'm honored that our clan can take a role and that I can lead them in the battle against the Deathspawn."
"Do you hear what you're saying?" Anyinn forced herself up and caught Feinouya's sleeve, preventing her from leaving. "They outnumber us, and even a victory would cost us most of our students. You can't ask the Tayn clan to pay that price."
"Oh, but we volunteered."
Anyinn flinched as she heard the voice, her head involuntarily swiveling to the door. She knew who it was, yet she was still shocked to see Boulanu walk into the room. He was the brash young challenger she remembered, except that he was nothing like that man. Instead he carried himself with an agonizing self-importance that had nothing to do with youth.
"Boulanu has proved himself the Hero we've been waiting for." Feinouya escaped her limp fingers and walked to put her hands on the boy's shoulders. "He may be young, but he sees further than all of us. With our guidance, he will eradicate all the Deathspawn until only the Dark Lord remains."
"He's here." Boulanu took a deep breath and unleashed a disturbingly eager smile. "Lurking at the edges, causing all of this. If we kill him, we can end it all now."
"And the Tayn clan will be the saviors of all Nol."
"Of course. When the Legend called, you were the first to answer."
The cold dread gave way and Anyinn forced herself to her feet, glaring at the older woman. "Feinouya, do you really believe any of this? You saw the last man to call himself a Hero die for absolutely nothing, and he was twenty years Boulanu's senior."
"A madman." Though Feinouya sniffed as if the matter was insulting to even raise, a flicker of doubt passed through her eyes. Anyinn seized on it and stepped closer to the two of them, determined to break apart the certainty she saw growing between them.
"Enough." Boulanu raised a hand in her path and she actually stopped, despite her intentions. "I understand that you're angry because you weren't chosen to guide me. But all of that is in the past, long forgiven. You have played your part and you can leave the stage, if that is all you desire."
The surge of anger was an ugly and twisted thing, but Anyinn seized it, because it was the first emotion that had pierced the haze clouding her mind. Boulanu had been a reckless boy before and he was a reckless boy now, no matter what he called himself. Anyinn crafted a blade of sein to remind him of it.
Before she could strike, Feinouya caught her wrist and twisted her to the ground. Anyinn grimaced in pain, trying to will the shimmering blade into Boulanu, but her momentum had been broken. Even if she had been fresh, she couldn't defeat the clan head, so if Feinouya was serving as the boy's bodyguard...
"You see?" Boulanu turned and gave the clan head a saintly smile. "All things work for our good, in the end, and even she had her role to play. But come, we have a great deal to prepare."
And so they simply left her. With the healing chamber emptied, Anyinn sat completely alone, clinging to her memories of the conversation and trying to deny the sensation that she had failed.
All she could do was retreat to her chambers and try to write down what she had experienced, though the words rebelled against her. The glorious moment when Canumon had matched her own technique felt a lifetime ago. It seemed certain that Boulanu had been fundamentally changed in some way, yet thinking the idea meant nothing. This was no sein technique that she could counter, and if it existed as a mental phenomenon, it lay outside all her years of experience.
"Mother? Mother, are you there?"
Anyinn jolted from her despair and realized that she had been staring at the paper blankly. Impossible as it seemed, the voice was her daughter, calling from the door. An irrational impulse made her fear a trick until she wrenched the door open and found Heraenyas standing there, wearing traveling hat and robes with a sword in her hands.
Before her daughter could say another word, Anyinn swept down and embraced her. The girl squirmed, but for once she allowed her mother to hold her tightly. When Anyinn managed to force herself back, she kept her hands on the girl's shoulders, just staring at her as if the sight could erase everything else from that day.
"I... wanted to see your duel." Heraenyas gave her a broad smile. "I arrived too late, but I heard you won!"
"Heraenyas, why are you here?" Anyinn stared at the sword that had dug into her chest. "Where's your father? I can't believe he allowed this..." But even as she spoke, she realized that she had made the wrong assumption and her daughter squared her shoulders proudly.
"I sneaked out and came to help! There's going to be a battle against the Deathspawn, right?"
Horror and desperation nearly made Anyinn drive a blade of sein into her daughter's heart at that moment. But using such a powerful technique on a developing soul could have harmed her permanently, and in any case she wasn't sure that it would do any good. Instead she just stared at the light in her daughter's eyes.
"Mother? Why are you... is something wrong? I heard the Deathspawn attacked, but the Hero is here, right? If w-"
"No!" Anyinn gripped her daughter's shoulders so tightly that the girl whimpered. "Not you. Not... where did you hear these things?"
"Everyone is saying them!" Now staring at her in fear, Heraenyas clutched her sword more tightly. "I... I just wanted to help..."
"To help slaughter all the Deathspawn? Are you going to use that sword to cut off Laghy's head?"
Heraenyas let out a low moan and tried to wriggle away, but Anyinn refused to let her go. "No, I... not all of them... I don't want to kill anyone good..." Without warning she gave a cry and hurled the sword away, leaping into Anyinn's arms before it finished clattering on the floor.
Anyinn held her tightly and felt the girl's small arms squeezing her back with all the strength she had. Hot tears made their way down Anyinn's cheek, but for the first time she felt relief. The idea of losing her own daughter had been terrifying, but the blinding light had passed. A small part of her mind was disturbed that even young children could be susceptible to this curse, or that perhaps they were even more susceptible...
"I don't feel right." Heraenyas curled up against her, suddenly an even younger girl than she was. "I just wanted to help. My head feels all wrong..."
"We're leaving." Anyinn scooped her up and carried her out, leaving the sword where it lay on the floor. "Don't cry, Heraenyas. We're going to go home to your father. We'll eat together and sleep and then we can think about all of this."
The girl nodded, and though she stopped crying, she stayed curled up against Anyinn. Though she couldn't admit it, Anyinn was grateful to hold her daughter as she departed the Straedi lodge and began to run. She had thought the girl was forever too old for this, and though the circumstances were tragic, the fact that her daughter had come to her for comfort meant more than she could express.
With nothing to stop her, Anyinn sprinted as quickly as the girl could bear. The trip was still long, and soon enough Heraenyas grew weary and fell asleep against her. Anyinn held her tighter and used the time to think, the wind streaming past her clearing away some of the confusion that swarmed around her mind.
It was clear enough that running away was no solution. Canumon and his family remained at the lodge, and she could never leave them to the grandiose horror growing there. Only when that thought occurred to her did she begin to wonder if the madness went further than just the clan.
She had noted how the mansthein became angrier and restless, but what if that was not their true nature? It might be the presence of people calling themselves Heroes, or it might be the Zeitai... or the ominous figure in the dark tent. Though she had run too far, Anyinn still looked back over her shoulder as if she could see it. The corrupt story emanated from somewhere, and if she could find the source, perhaps she could end it.
But for the moment, she finished her sprint home. Heraenyas was still asleep, so Anyinn gently put her daughter to bed. In the morning they would talk to her and she would be kept as far away from the madness as possible.
The house seemed entirely empty, which troubled her until she found Noreinu in his study. He sat slumped in a chair, one hand stained with ink. A quill lay broken on his desk and several pieces of expensive paper had been crumpled up around him. She would have thought it was one of his creative moods, if not for the hollowness of his eyes.
"Anyinn..." He looked up at her as if he didn't quite believe it. "I thought... you were fighting today..."
"I did, but the duel doesn't matter." She sat down opposite him and leaned forward, taking his ink-stained hand and uncurling it from a fist. "Are you alright?"
"It's nothing. Just..." Noreinu sat back and shoved one of the crumpled papers with a bitter laugh. "I was trying to write a play and it was going poorly. You would have hated it. One of the war epics with rival clans, except I was going to rewrite the mansthein as one of the sides... the strokes were absurdly broad, but you know that plays well with crowds."
The familiar old complaint almost banished her fears... yet even that familiarity faded too soon. She rubbed his hand and spoke softly. "You've struggled to write before. What's different now?"
"Because it's useless. Every person on the damn street is only talking about one story these days, as if the Legend swallowed up everything else." He ran a hand through his graying hair and a beast of desperation lurked within his gaze. "Anything I want to write, it's already written, except worse and far more powerfully. I was thinking about it and I just felt so useless... I guess this seems trivial, doesn't it?"
"No." Anyinn leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "No, not at all. We need to talk."
"Are you well?" He pulled back enough to look at her, eyes penetrating. "I've never seen you so... what's wrong?"
