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By Linc Chapter One ‘Good Bye’ I thought I could change the world… “Attention! Attention please!” The
man tapped his glass with his ring to bring order to the room. Everyone
stopped his or her eating, drinking, and talking to see what the man had to
say. “Now…” He set down his glass and absently smoothed out his orange and
red yukata. “I’m glad everyone is having a good time—“ “Grand time!” “Smashing, really!” “I’m drunk!” “—but let’s not forget why we’re
all here!” The bald man barely concealed a grin under his gray mustache. “The food!” “The drink!” “My mom made me!” “I’m still drunk!” “QUIET; this isn’t an auction
house!” He cleared his throat as order was restored. No, next time there
would be no wine. That or he wouldn’t invite the town drunk. Oh hell, who was
he kidding? Everyone deserved to be at this party. “Stand up, my boy!” The old
warrior slapped a young man on the shoulder. He seemed to be drifting off,
despite the commotion. “This fine, energetic, brave young man is why we’re
here!” There was a loud cheer within the
solemn-temple-turned-party-house as he gave a shy wave. The man-of-the-hour
scooted out from under his friend’s blue-haired head. The friend had passed
out earlier, and didn’t seem to be inclined to move and fell to the couch
without waking. “Maroshi,” the temple master continued,
slapping the lad's back, “you’ve made us proud! We had out doubts, the
warriors and I—“ There was a cheer from the
warrior’s table. “—the teachers had bad
premonitions—“ A painful groan was heard from
their table, sure signs of a past with little alcohol and a hangover
tomorrow. “—but once you set your mind to
becoming the strongest in Icetai, there was no stopping ya!” The fellow
playfully punched Maroshi in the jaw amidst yells of admiration and catcalls.
“So it’s time,” he added, with a serious tone, “that I admit my defeat.” The
room grew silent. Maroshi stared at his former master. “A week ago, to this
very day, Maroshi and I sparred. And I lost.” The temple stood still, save a few
gasps and the crickets in the night. Maroshi’s face grew red with
embarrassment. “So, the rumors were true,”
someone muttered. The master took in a deep breath.
“As some of you know, it was my wish, as I proclaimed on the first day I
opened this The guests and faculty all murmured
in surprise and disbelief—the sword had been in the family for ages. “Then again, the master has no
sons,” a man thought out loud. “Maroshi’s like a son to ‘im,” his
wife added. “He deserves it more than anyone.” The master walked up to the grand
fireplace, which had not been lit on this summer’s night. There were many
weapons on the wall hanging off golden nails. Staff, scimitar, pike, axe…
Weapons of masters and teachers long past. But there in the middle was the
katana. The sheath was dark blue with a
silver tiger outlined at the top. Its tail trailed all the way to the bottom,
were it was tipped in silver with a red stone on either side. The hilt was
white with black crisscrosses and a tip to match the bottom sheath. The blade
Maroshi had only seen once—it was made of a metal long forgotten how to be
tamed that gleamed a dull blue. Right below the hilt, etched into the dullest
part of the metal was an eye on either side. They were said to be the eyes of
Tiger, the god of honor. The master gently took down the
beauty and balanced it in his worn hands. His sandals could be heard easily
clacking against marble as he made his way back to Maroshi. All was still as
the old warrior kissed the tip of the hilt. With a look of pride in his gray
eyes, handed his sword over. “It’s yours, Maroshi.” Before he even said the younger man’s
name, the temple erupted in cheers and screams of delight. Maroshi took the
sword in his tanned hands and bowed as low as he could. “Thank you, master.” “Think nothing of it!” The warrior
seemed to return to himself and pounded Maroshi’s back so hard he nearly
fell. He yelled over the hoots and hollers, “This will help you in the
tournament much more than that old bronze katana! Leave it here with us, to
remember you by!” “Anything,” Maroshi smiled
gratefully. “Anything.” Maroshi was a good-looking young
man with a bright future ahead of him. At age twenty-five, he was relatively
tall for people in his area. His long black hair was tied back, but for some
reason the right side of his bangs hadn’t gotten long enough to reach the
ponytail. The young warrior had long since given up and now let them fall
freely over his right amber eye. His master had disapproved of it, but in the
end it hadn’t made a difference in training after all. Now his clothing—that pissed
the master off. Maroshi had grown to like the old-style clothing that most
people only wore for special occasions—like tonight. He found them easier to
move in than armor or leather anyway. The light blue shirt had a black dragon
on the back, and was held closed by a darker blue sash that matched billowy
pants. Add to that, Maroshi stitched heavy chains around the wrists of his
shirt and ankles of his pants for weighted training like the teachers
suggested. He had been given a pair of sandals and navy blue socks that old
samurai were said to wear in the legends as a joke for his nineteenth
birthday. He never owned another pair of shoes again. After making sure his blue-haired friend’s servants had safely fetched
the comatose boy (his mother would have a fit when he got back), Maroshi decided
to skip out of the party. Even though he was stopped five times by several
different girls for petty conversation, and once again by his semi-drunk
ex-master to know if Maroshi remembered where he ‘parked his cow’, the young
man made it out the back door. Inside, he felt guilty for leaving the party. It had been thrown for him after all, by all his friends and
the town-folk who caught word of his invitation to a tournament. But he’d
been there for hours on end, and really just wanted some sleep. Maroshi
smiled slightly to himself; they’d understand. If not, they’d be too drunk to
remember. Maroshi turned the corner and headed for St. Clare’s Orphanage. Home sweet home. I’ll really miss it. As he got closer to the white building, he could make out someone
sitting on the ledge above the first floor. She dangled her feet over ‘Clare’
on the wooden sign that hung above the entrance and sat gazing at the stars
that threatened to disappear in a few hours. “Sister Jane?” Maroshi called out, careful not to wake any of the
children asleep on the second floor. He tiptoed through the front yard,
jumping over the gate in case it squeaked. The blonde woman started, crystal-blue eyes blinking in the dark. She
recognized the voice anyway. “Maroshi? Goodness, what are you doing back? You
should be at the party, silly boy!” Maroshi smiled a lop-sided grin. “It wasn’t any fun without you,
Sister. May I join you?” “Certainly!” Sister Jane chuckled and tucked a short strand of hair
back behind her headband. “But when you go up the stairs inside, make sure
to—“ Maroshi jumped from the ground up to the second story with no sweat.
Sister Jane paled visibly in the dim light as he took a seat to her right.
“Maroshi!” She hit him in the shoulder. “You’ll break your neck!” “Hey, ow,” he pouted. “This way’s quicker than going inside, sneaking
upstairs, climbing out the window, making sure the little kids don’t see…” “But it’s much safer,” the forty-year-old woman sighed. “Then again, I
keep forgetting you’re not a kid anymore. It seems like yesterday when they
first brought you to the orphanage. Oh, you were such a scruffy little thing!
The man told me you stole from vendors in the city, swore, threw stones at
cats, and even spit on his shoe when he tried to catch you stealing an apple
from his cart! Scruffy, rude, violent…” “I am sitting right here you
know,” Maroshi frowned. “Oh, I’m just telling the truth. I remember when I asked you for your
name… You told it to me. I asked about your parents, your home, who you lived
with until you came to town…” Sister Jane sighed sadly. “You said you didn’t
know.” “I didn’t lie to you…” Maroshi continued to stare at the stars. “I
never knew anything but my first name and my age.” “I know, I know.” Sister Jane pat his hand the way you would a puppy’s
head. “You changed after you started to go to the temple. Other children
wanted to go to school or even begin little odd jobs. But you told me you
wanted to be a samurai.” The woman smiled sorrowfully in sweet remembrance.
“I couldn’t say no to a will like yours.” “Thank you,” Maroshi murmured, “for doing that for me. None of the
other adults thought I could turn out this way.” “Twenty years since I met you Maroshi—that’s a very long time indeed.”
Sister Jane turned and Maroshi saw that warm, comforting,
‘every-thing-will-be-ok-if-you-believe’ grin grace Sister Jane’s lips. “And I
never lost faith in you. Not a single day! And I won’t start now.” Maroshi returned the smile. “Neither will I.” Maroshi tossed the covers off his body. It would be dawn in a few
hours, and he’d have to get up and say goodbye to the children in the St.
Clare’s Orphanage. But something was still nagging him… something about that
letter… that tournament… Disgruntled, he flipped on the gas lantern and grabbed the envelope.
This would be the last time he read the damn thing. He hoped. The envelope was standard paper
from any-old tree. ‘Maroshi’ had been written in delicate form on the front
with a seal that could be pressed and re-pressed and never fail to secure the
envelope. The seal was green wax; a type no one could identify for him. A
wolf’s head sat in the middle of it; the person’s insignia, no doubt. The only strange thing was how it
had been delivered to him. A month ago, Maroshi awoke to tapping on the
window. The sun was barely up when he went to open the window and see what
the matter was. There, in the flower box, sat a fat squirrel with the darn
thing in his mouth. “Uh… hi?” Maroshi had blinked. The squirrel blinked back. Maroshi had tried to purge the
sleep from his veins with a few pinches, but still the gray creature sat.
Suddenly, it dropped the envelop in the posies, ran down the rain gutter,
into the fence row behind St. Clare’s, and was never seen again. Maroshi hadn’t told anyone that part. But the letter itself was just as
peculiar. Sister Jane, his master, and even his friends had thought just as
much after reading it. Normally, he’d have thrown it out, but his master
informed Maroshi that his friend working over at the But it was still weird. Dear Maroshi, Congratulations.
You have been selected to participate in a team tournament to be held three
months from this day. Please arrive at that time with any desired weapons,
spells, or potions you may need to do battle. EVERYTHING is allowed. The
location is near Servants
are allowed, but it is recommended you come alone. Do us all a favor and
leave any family behind. You
may or may not return. Regards. -B. P.S.
- Be wary in your travels. Maroshi sighed. Whoever wrote this
needed some penmanship skills. He sealed the parchment back in its envelope,
and crawled into bed. “Maroshiiiii!” “Why do you hafta go?” “Please don’t leave Maroshi!” “He’s going to fight bad guys,
stupid!” “Who’s gonna tell us stories about
the sam’rai?” “An’ save us from Sissy Jane’s
cooking?” “I’ll have you know my cooking is
healthy and nutritious!” Sister Jane frowned and shifted her weight uneasily.
The children had gotten up early to see Maroshi off for his trip. They really
loved the silly boy… “Hey, it’s her cooking that got me
so strong!” Maroshi winked to the children. “So I can dooo… this!” He
snatched up an unsuspecting six-year-old and flung her into the air. She
squealed with delight as he caught her and set her back on the bricks. Sister Jane pretended not to see. Maroshi glanced up at the sun. It
was almost The children watched quietly as he
opened the wooden gate and shut it behind him. Any child who turned around
would see Sister Jane dabbing at her eyes with a shaky hand. The group
watched their best friend leave... “Hey, Maroshi!” “Hmm?” Maroshi turned around to
see the little girl he had tossed staring at him with intent hazel eyes. Her
brown pigtails quivered in the breeze as she tried not to step on any
flowers, but still look over the tall white fence. “What did you name it?” she asked. Maroshi blinked. “The sword! What did you name it!” “Yeah!” Another youngster ran up
to the fence. “Didn’t sam’rai used to name their kat’na’s?” Maroshi pondered this as the rest
of the children met the fence. “I suppose they did…It doesn’t have a name,
not that I know of.” He looked back to Sister Jane who only shook her head—she
had never heard the master call it anything significant. “Then name it!” “Okay… How about… The St. Clare?” Maroshi waved to the children in
the distance then finally turned his back on the St. Clare’s Orphanage. There
was a blacksmith’s shop, a tailor, a few residences on his right, and then a
corn farm on his left. After that, the road would lead him out of the suburbs
and into the countryside that was full of fields. Eventually, if the map was
correct, the highway would take him through a forest… then a town… more
forest… Maroshi sighed and kicked a pebble
off the dirt road. He didn’t think it would be this quiet! Then again, not many people came up this road to Icetai. They took the
road at the north part that led directly into the city. No one wanted to see
the farms that lined the south road. How boring, they all said. Maroshi was
inclined to agree… He looked up into the sky where a
cloud or two could be seen rolling by. Then again, the people who did
come up the south road had rather odd tales to tell. It seemed the woods were
something of a danger, but it was the only clear way to Maroshi continued walking and
nodded affirmatively. It was no sense to drag others into his own problems
and put their lives in dan— “YOU BASTARD!!!” A rock the size of an apricot hit
the back of Maroshi’s head. Had he not been so lost in thought, he would have
sensed it and blocked the missile. But fortune was not on his side as stars
danced around his head. “Owowow…” Maroshi tenderly rubbed
his scalp and turned around. He knew
that voice. It was River Bluefate. And he looked ticked. Royal ticked. “What did I do!?!” Maroshi whined
as his blue-haired friend stomped up the road to meet him. River was a little
sweaty and out of breath, a sure sign he had been running. “What did you do!?!” His hot temper wasn’t affected at all. “You left without
me, that’s what you did!” “Eh?” Maroshi ceased massaging his
injury to take a good look at his friend. River’s spiky blue hair was the
same, his bangs covered a set of very angry brown eyes, and he had the same
orange-with-thin-vertical-black-stripes yukata on from last night. Also, he
still had on those odd wooden sandals with the black straps that looked like
someone glued two thin strips of wood to the bottom of a foot-sized piece.
But most noticeably, River had a large iron bowl slung over his back. “Uh… Why do you have a pot on your
back?” “First off, it’s called an Ooshi
Bowl, ok?” River frowned and put and irritated hand on his hip. “Second, it’s
because I’m commin’ with you, moron!” Maroshi swallowed. If he didn’t do
this tactfully, one of them would end up hurt. Most likely himself. “River…” “Yes, Maroshi?” The
nineteen-year-old raised an eyebrow and adjusted the leather strap on his
right shoulder. “You can’t come with me,” Maroshi
said sternly, putting his foot down. The young warrior was ready for
anything. River was about the third strongest in Icetai, but Maroshi was stronger
if it came down to a fistfight. Maroshi could knock him out and leave River
back at his mother’s mansion in the city. There was a family traveling up the
road towards them from the southern fields, but he could explain his violence
later. Maroshi was ready for anything. “You hate me, don’t you!?” River
bawled and put his hands over his eyes, tears seeping through the fingers. Ready for anything… Except that. “Uh, um… Er,” Maroshi panicked.
The family was practically right behind them on their route for Icetai, and
was staring at the two young men on the side of the road. Damn it! I thought people didn’t take this
road… Just my luck. “No! Don’t explain yourself!”
River choked. “M-mother told me… I-I’d never be good e-enough for… for you!” Maroshi didn’t like the “Oh!” River looked up defiantly.
“So now you’re going to beat me, is
that it!?” Maroshi’s jaw fell open. The mother muttered something
Maroshi didn’t want to hear. It looked like the children were getting upset
too. He really wished the mother would snap the reigns and get the heck out
of there. “I’m not going to be used, Maroshi!” River screamed his name so
the family could hear it perfectly. “Oh, for the love of…” Maroshi
slapped his forehead. “What is it
going to take for you to quit it?” he muttered. “Promise I can come with,” River
whispered before yelling, “I knew I should have taken that job in the
red-light district instead!” Horrified, the mother slapped her
hands over her toddler’s ears. Maroshi knew when he had lost. “Fine!
You can come!” Now was one of those times. “Six-two!” River’s tears stopped
like clockwork and he tackled Maroshi to the ground. He hugged the warrior
until Maroshi was sure his spine would pop. “More like six-three,” he muttered
and rose from the ground, River still clinging to him for all he was worth. “Mommy,” the toddler asked, “are
all the people in Icetai crazy?” The mother sighed and snapped the
reigns. “No, honey. He just thinks he’s samurai. Let’s get going.” Maroshi’s jaw dropped again and
his eyes bulged as the wagon continued down the road. He really hoped they
were just passing through Icetai, and wouldn’t stop to tell anyone about
this… event… River touched his index finger
thoughtfully to his lips and began heading south. “Wow. It looks like you
already have a fan-club, Mar.” Maroshi turned around rapidly and
stalked after his ex-friend. “You…!” “You should have just let me
come,” River continued at a leisurely pace, “and I wouldn’t have had to pull
that stunt.” “That was a little much.” The
black-haired youth fell into step with River, hand absentmindedly on his
katana. “Whatever. And the score’s still
six-two,” River yawned. Was it really six times he had let
River beat him at something this month? Maroshi sighed. The sun would set
soon, and he could already see the tops of forest oaks looming ahead. The people who told tales of
ghosts, goblins, and other strange creatures were full of it. Maroshi had
decided that once he set foot in the forest. The trees were tall and strong
and shaded the road from the sun’s heat; it was cooler still when you walked
on the grass to the west or east. He was certain, had it been autumn and the
moon was full, travel would be possible at night. Save a bend or two in the
road, everything about the forest was nice and linear. Unfortunately, it was early
summer, and the moon was only half-full. As visibility faded, Maroshi ushered
River to an eastern clearing to camp for the night. An hour later they had a
small fire going and River was in a better mood. “So…” Maroshi settled his back against
a slender oak. “Why did you follow me?” River stopped muttering something
about spices and chicken and looked up. “Well, after you showed me that
letter I made up my mind.” “What do you mean?” “It said you ‘may or may not’
return.” River ran a hand through his spiky locks. “I figured if I went with
you and we died fighting some dragon an’ shit it would be the same as if you
had died with me back safe at home.” “Uh…” “Because I’d kill myself out of
boredom! Do you know how many stairs Mother’s mansion has?” “No, not—“ “8,322. D’ you know how I know?” “You’re crazy?” “I got bored that week you and the
other orphans got to go on a beach trip with Jane!” River shuddered at the
memory. “Some coincidence that was the
only week your mother didn’t ground you,” Maroshi grinned. “Yeah, really,” River muttered and
set up the Ooshi Bowl over the fire. “Now what do you want for supper?” Maroshi straightened and pulled a
little wooden box from his blue shirt. “I have enough fish rolls to last a
week. I can get some more in the next town too.” “Fish rolls, yummy.” River rolled his eyes. “That reminds me the other reason
I came: You can’t cook for crap.” “I’ve had other things like
training at the temple to worry about. Which you should have been doing too,” Maroshi retorted. “I’m through trainin’, Mar.” River
sighed slightly. “There are other things that are more important than
fighting.” River stared intently into the
fire. For a brief second, Maroshi thought in that light his friend looked so
much more mature than usual. Something about his eyes… River brightened up, his eyes
dancing with merriment again. “So what’ll it be? Shrimp? Chicken? Shrimp?
Stew? Shrimp?” “Chicken.” “Too bad. It’s my bowl, so we’re
having shrimp.” River stuck out his tongue. Maroshi rolled his eyes. Yeah, River a mature human being.
How’d that thought even enter his mind? “Incase you didn’t notice, we don’t
have anything besides fish rolls and water.” River wagged his wooden spoon at
Maroshi. “That’s where you’re wrong! Mother got me this Ooshi Bowl for my
birthday.” “Real masculine, Riv.” “I wasn’t trying to be. Anyway, as
soon as I tap this spoon against the bowl, any ingredient appears at my
will!” He tapped the iron bowl with a ‘clang!’ and Maroshi stared. Poof! A puff of smoke came and went. There,
in the center of the bowl, sat six jumbo shrimp. “See?” River wore a cat-like
expression of smugness and he hit the bowl again. Poof! A globe of swirling
water dumped onto the shrimp and began to sizzle. “That’s pretty neat,” Maroshi
admitted. “I still want chicken though…” “Too bad,” River muttered and
stirred the bowl’s contents. “Maybe tomorrow if you’re good.” “How does it do that?” River shrugged. “Magic.” “Ah. Why doesn’t it just give you
a whole meal then? So you don’t have to cook.” “Because that defeats the
purpose.” River speared a shrimp with a twig and handed it to his traveling
companion. “And something about raw-ingredients only.” “Must have been a lazy magician.” “You’re telling me.” The two chatted, argued, and ate
the last of the shrimp. The fire was nothing more than dull embers when
River’s nudging awakened Maroshi. “Your turn for watch,” he
whispered. Maroshi nodded and yawned as River
fell back against the tree and drifted off immediately. Dawn would come soon—the sky was
turning a dull gray and the sun’s crimson light would touch it then. Until
that time came, Maroshi wafted in and out of thought after thought. He had
the distinct feeling they were being watched, but cast it aside. “It’s just that dream again,” he
murmured. “Making me nervous, that’s all.” Maroshi vowed not to think about
what he dreamt last night, lest it break his nerve. Every time it was the
same thing. The tree, the woman... Maroshi shook his head. She was dead. That’s all there is to it. The pair walked down the road in
silence. It was mid-morning already, later than Maroshi had planned on
getting started. That was mostly River’s fault; he had taken a swing at
Maroshi for waking him up at six. Maroshi had dodged it, but decided to let
the temperamental teen sleep in a bit later anyway. (Which set the score to
seven-two.) Birds could be heard chirping, and
a chipmunk darted out a log to catch its mate on the other side of the path.
The sun streamed a steady gold through the leaves and not a wind was to be
felt under the canopy. Maroshi inhaled the scent of the outdoors with
pleasure; this was the life. Good surroundings, good health, good people… River cracked his knuckles. Maroshi winced. Relatively okay people… “That still makes you queasy, eh?”
River threw the warrior a sideways glance. Maroshi shrugged and stepped over
a rut in the road. Never give River an advantage—he had learned that early
on. River whistled in astonishment. “I
figure you would have gotten over that years
ago.” “I did.” Maroshi didn’t make eye
contact. Instead he kept walking while studying the trees around him. “Oh, really? So this doesn’t
bother you?” River cracked his thumb. “No.” “How about this?” River rolled his
wrist with an astounding ‘pop’. Maroshi swallowed. “Nope.” “This?” River took off his sandal
and pressed his toes into the ground. They all cracked at once. “No…” Maroshi gritted his teeth. “How about this!” River rolled his neck with a pop that echoed through the
forest. “That’s just disturbing,” Maroshi
muttered. “Oh yeah?” River, not about to be
beaten, adjusted his Ooshi Bowl and prepared for the next round. “How
about—…Mar?” He stopped. Maroshi stood perfectly still in
the middle of the road. His left hand gripped the St. Clare and his right was
balled into a fist. The warrior’s eyes became dangerously narrow, and the
yellow orbs shone bright with anticipation. “Mar?” River’s own eyes narrowed
and his fists clenched. He knew that look—River had trained with Maroshi at
the temple long enough to have memorized it. “The birds,” Maroshi said finally.
“They’ve stopped singing.” River listened. Nothing could be
heard. A chill breeze fluttered stray leaves to and fro in what couldn’t be
mistaken for a good omen. “What direction?” River said as
quietly as he could. “I’m not sure…” Maroshi’s eyes
narrowed. For a minute, they stood back-to-back, waiting for something…
Anything to give them a clue. Maroshi listened. And listened.
And listened… ‘Snap.’ His eyes widened. “West!” he
shouted. River dove and rolled north while
Maroshi sprung easily to the south of the road. Trees to the west splintered
and shattered as a huge beast came to land with a roar where the two men had
just stood. Maroshi lost sight of River since its massive green and tan body
took up the width of the road. “River!” Maroshi yelled, but was
cut off by the roar. The creature turned slowly to face the warrior who had
already drawn his sword. Its eyes turned in two directions
at once, like a chameleon, though it was anything but. It had a round head
with a slobbering mouth that went vertically from one side to the other with
huge foot-long teeth sticking out. A giant foot took a step towards Maroshi,
and he could see the creature’s drool burn a hole in the ground. River’s view wasn’t much better.
The thing’s spiked tail seemed to have a mind of its own, and he had to jump
over it more than once as it swished back and forth. With only his fists for
weapons, River doubted he could hurt its leathery hide. He put himself on the
defensive, and hoped Maroshi was having an easier time. “HYAH!” Maroshi charged as its
tongue lashed out where he stood. The warrior jumped to a tree branch just in
time, only to come back down. With a yell, Maroshi cut a vertical line
through the ugly forehead. Blood covered the St. Clare as the
creature howled in pain and retracted its tongue. Maroshi was sure it would
flee after a devastating gash to a tender area, but he was mistaken. Instead,
the creature’s thin tongue licked the wound, leaving a trail of saliva
behind. “Ew,” Maroshi grimaced. After
seeing what the drool did to the road, he was sure he’d won. But to his amazement, the wound
began to heal—what was lethal to anything else was healthy for the
monstrosity. Slowly, the gash closed itself as Maroshi watched in shock and
horror. With a triumphant screech, the creature’s tongue shot out again, and
Maroshi couldn’t dodge. The slimy thing curved and hurled
Maroshi into a tree, sending the St. Clare to the other side of the path. He
coughed as the wind was knocked out of him—Maroshi thought he heard River
yell, but was too stunned to be sure. The tongue curled around his abdomen
and slowly drew him towards the mouth. Maroshi groaned and tried to move, but
the tree had knocked out his strength along with his breath. “Maroshi!” River had been in the middle of jumping to a tree limb when
he saw it happen. The tongue wrapped around his friend, but before he could
see what happened next (he had a pretty good idea anyway) he had to move. The
tail snapped the limb like a twig and River leapt to the ground, landing in a
crouch. He shouted again. “Maroshi!” River
was about to punch the crap out of the beast for all his worth to save his
friend. Suddenly, the young man felt a few
drops of moisture land on his left cheek as a black streak came from the
eastern tree line and stopped directly before him. River started—it was a
man! From the back all River could see
was the stranger’s long black coat, matching boots, gloved hands, and medium
length hair. And his giant scythe. The staff was a good eight feet tall,
making the man about six something. The scythe’s blade, however, was another
five feet and covered in blood. River glanced to the side and
noticed the monster’s tail had been cut off. But it was so sudden not even
the monster had noticed it! River looked back to the figure
and narrowed his eyes in curiosity. Who is this guy? As if hearing River’s thoughts,
the man glanced back. His eyes were red, the color of wine, River decided.
And he looked older than either he or Maroshi. Actually… the man’s eyes were
almost the same color as… “You have blood on your face,” the
man said. Blood. |
