So it doesn't get lost in the down-flow of stories, here is a response to my first follower aside from Jikoniau/Ani! (Who is my sister, so does that count?)
Hajimemashite Eden-san!
Pleased to meet you, and thanks for posting on my blog!
So Australia, that's cool, I love the way internet lets us interact with people around the world. I looked up Brisbane, looks like a pretty place (but I can't tell a lot from google images). Are you really close to the ocean? Have you been to New Zealand? My sisters and I were trying to convince our parents to take us to Australia and New Zealand last fall, but they didn't go for it (I think they've both been already, years ago).
I'm glad to hear you like the Nihonashi projects, they are fun to do, and I shall certainly like to do more. (I'll write up the next one today, yes!)
This blog can be multi-purpose, the more the merrier.
Thanks also for your comments about my writing.
Ok, here's my stab at Japanese :)
私もアニメや漫画（まんが）やラメンが好きです。どんあアニメが好きですか？アメリカのウタ州で住んでいます。週末,私の町に日本祭り（まつり）に行きました。太鼓（たいこ）と空手（からて）を見ました。かっこよかったです！そのことをニホナシで話そうと思います。日本語にがんばりましょう！
よろしく。
(I also like things like anime, manga, and ramen. What kind of anime do you like? I live in the American state Utah. Over the weekend I went to a Japanese festival in my town. I saw taiko and karate, it was cool. I think I'll talk about that in Nihonashi. Let's do our best with Japanese!)
Here are some useful resources (which you may know already):
My favorite dictionary: www.jisho.org (also has a helpful forum)
Great quizzes: http://www.manythings.org/japanese/news/npw1.htm
The best Japanese podcasts: http://www.japanesepod101.com/ (I recommend getting a free account, then downloading a bunch of audio while it's still free, and then if you really like it you can sign up. I have too much to do and too many other Japanese resources I'm using now, but I think I will sign up in the future, because their podcasts are excellent.)
Free podcasts that are pretty well done: http://learnjapanesepod.com/
Thanks again, I look forward to talking and hopefully practicing Japanese,
~Mai
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The Marbles of Patchwork Mt. (2008?)
[This story is based on a dream. When I wrote it down I probably didn't have any idea of the overall plot, or I would've written myself a note. I like the idea though, so someday I hope to develop the plot.]
I reached with all my might, straining my will to believe there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to get to that point one foot above where I was. For three or four feet this will held, and I entertained the thought that, finally, I was going to rise a good distance above the ground. I could use this power!
...Or not. My will failed, my eagle wings started to fail, to blink out as their absence sent me plummeting toward the ground. It was all right, I knew; I summoned the wind to my command so that it blew me sideways, making my fall less abrupt. What I didn’t count for, stupidly, was the patchwork cliff. My wind sent me right to the edge of it. I screamed, suddenly afraid of falling. What a joke. Me, the manipulator of air, fire, and my own pair of beautiful golden-white eagle wings, was afraid of falling. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t use any of these skills. My will lessened even more in despair. My wind wasn’t strong enough to catch me if I fell off the cliff, I could never use my eagle wings while I was falling, and my fire wings weren’t strong enough to hold me in the air. My legs slipped off the edge of the cliff.
“Help me!” I screamed in an inhumanly loud voice as my fingers frantically grabbed the black felt strands on the edge of the cliff.
“Hmm?” I faintly heard an interested tone from one of my sisters.
“I’m falling!” I was crying now, too afraid to even think of anything more to say that would convince them to rescue me.
Inaar, user of water, and my youngest sister, crept to my side. She was drenched, telling me she had been playing in Button Lake, almost 40 yards from where I was. Unlike me, Inaar was getting good with her power; she must have used the water to propel her over here. One of my elder sisters, Yimi, who controlled fire and earth, let out a long sigh as she held a hand out to me. Together my sisters pulled me back over the edge of the cliff, until I was comfortable enough to scramble away from the edge on all fours.
“You’re the one with wings,” I was reminded by a quiet voice. Nernul, who had chosen the single silver marble, with power over the metals of the earth.
“Thank you,” I said, ashamed that I’d had to ask them for help.
Yimi had taken two balls just as I did, but I was the one who’d ended up with a greater power of fire than she, and the eagle wings. I hadn’t known, when I took a blue and golden ball, what they meant. Neither had my sisters. But when Inaar started causing water to shoot up from the glasses we figured blue was water. Only when we went off to practice our new powers for ourselves did I find that my ball was actually indigo. Inside the blue ball was a tiny red one; air and fire. The golden ball was brighter than the one Yimi had chosen; she got earth, I got wings. Why I ended up with the two special marbles we don’t know, just dumb luck, but it made my sisters feel bitterly towards me. Neither Hinle, Caivu, or Jorba ended up with air or wings either.
“We’ll just have to find some more marbles,” Caivu insisted, refusing to speak to me.
“And this time, you don’t get any,” Jorba said angrily, glaring at me. Jorba glares at everyone, but this time I felt she was using her fire to burn my very skin. I knew she would never do such a thing — we sisters were sworn in our search for power to help each other gain as much as we could, until it was enough for us to band together in order to accomplish our goal. Still... sometimes, it seems they’re beginning to forget our goal, concentrating more and more on gaining power. I love the power I have, that makes me feel the most amazing things, but this can’t continue forever. I decided that, while my sisters were practicing, I would find them more marbles. I didn’t want any more, really, I just wanted them to feel better so we could work together equally. If I could have given them my marbles, I would have... but that was impossible. We gradually learned that at first we needed the marbles physically, to hold them in our hands our mouths, to use the power. Once we figured out the basics, had gained the knowledge of how our power flowed and where it was coming from, the marbles began to disintegrate, like they were getting very old very fast. Inaar swallowed hers right as it began to flake, reasoning she’d have it with her always that way. She was just being funny, not careful. Hinle forbid the rest of us from swallowing our marbles, but we saved the dust. When nothing bad happened to Inaar, except a stomachache, the rest of us swallowed the dust anyhow. It was at that point I not only got a stomachache but a great pain in my back, and the next day my sisters told me they saw the outline of wings behind me. I knew I hadn’t been able to manipulate earth, and had put the golden marble down as a dud, but I’d swallowed the dust of it anyhow. Maybe this made me feel more powerful, strengthening my will, or maybe it was whatever was inside the marble that I needed for the wings. We don’t know. We really don’t know anything. The cause of what sent us searching for power, where the marbles came from, what they were, how long our powers will last... we have no idea. All we know is that my powers are different from the others, and I hate it. I love the powers, but I hate the seclusion. If Inaar had been even near a cliff, all my sisters would have come rushing to her aid at once. Oh... that’s unfair, I suppose, as she is the youngest and cutest of all of us. Everyone loves her best. Me... whatever chance I had of being loved disappeared.
I’ve decided to combine my powers. What if I use the fire wings, my eagle wings, and the wind all together? I might be able to rise higher that way. But I’m scared to practice, especially because of what just happened. My sisters are still standing around me, looking rather like they disapprove of me. Three of my sisters didn’t even listen to my plea for help.
“Thank you,” I repeated, and we all walked our different ways once again.
We’d been practicing on Patchwork Mt. for a long time now, and no one was willing to stop. We were supposed to stop when we were ready, when we’d learned to use our powers, but what did that mean? We all knew how to use them, and could use them pretty well. I think I know... we all want to be as powerful as we can be, but we will continue to believe we’re getting more powerful because around us our sisters are. No sister will stop first. I fear we’ll continue until we all die of old age... or just die, I don’t know. Playing with water and fire around cliffs isn’t the most surefire way to long life. Especially when every moment we sit here is another moment for them to gain power. They might find us first.
I reached with all my might, straining my will to believe there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to get to that point one foot above where I was. For three or four feet this will held, and I entertained the thought that, finally, I was going to rise a good distance above the ground. I could use this power!
...Or not. My will failed, my eagle wings started to fail, to blink out as their absence sent me plummeting toward the ground. It was all right, I knew; I summoned the wind to my command so that it blew me sideways, making my fall less abrupt. What I didn’t count for, stupidly, was the patchwork cliff. My wind sent me right to the edge of it. I screamed, suddenly afraid of falling. What a joke. Me, the manipulator of air, fire, and my own pair of beautiful golden-white eagle wings, was afraid of falling. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t use any of these skills. My will lessened even more in despair. My wind wasn’t strong enough to catch me if I fell off the cliff, I could never use my eagle wings while I was falling, and my fire wings weren’t strong enough to hold me in the air. My legs slipped off the edge of the cliff.
“Help me!” I screamed in an inhumanly loud voice as my fingers frantically grabbed the black felt strands on the edge of the cliff.
“Hmm?” I faintly heard an interested tone from one of my sisters.
“I’m falling!” I was crying now, too afraid to even think of anything more to say that would convince them to rescue me.
Inaar, user of water, and my youngest sister, crept to my side. She was drenched, telling me she had been playing in Button Lake, almost 40 yards from where I was. Unlike me, Inaar was getting good with her power; she must have used the water to propel her over here. One of my elder sisters, Yimi, who controlled fire and earth, let out a long sigh as she held a hand out to me. Together my sisters pulled me back over the edge of the cliff, until I was comfortable enough to scramble away from the edge on all fours.
“You’re the one with wings,” I was reminded by a quiet voice. Nernul, who had chosen the single silver marble, with power over the metals of the earth.
“Thank you,” I said, ashamed that I’d had to ask them for help.
Yimi had taken two balls just as I did, but I was the one who’d ended up with a greater power of fire than she, and the eagle wings. I hadn’t known, when I took a blue and golden ball, what they meant. Neither had my sisters. But when Inaar started causing water to shoot up from the glasses we figured blue was water. Only when we went off to practice our new powers for ourselves did I find that my ball was actually indigo. Inside the blue ball was a tiny red one; air and fire. The golden ball was brighter than the one Yimi had chosen; she got earth, I got wings. Why I ended up with the two special marbles we don’t know, just dumb luck, but it made my sisters feel bitterly towards me. Neither Hinle, Caivu, or Jorba ended up with air or wings either.
“We’ll just have to find some more marbles,” Caivu insisted, refusing to speak to me.
“And this time, you don’t get any,” Jorba said angrily, glaring at me. Jorba glares at everyone, but this time I felt she was using her fire to burn my very skin. I knew she would never do such a thing — we sisters were sworn in our search for power to help each other gain as much as we could, until it was enough for us to band together in order to accomplish our goal. Still... sometimes, it seems they’re beginning to forget our goal, concentrating more and more on gaining power. I love the power I have, that makes me feel the most amazing things, but this can’t continue forever. I decided that, while my sisters were practicing, I would find them more marbles. I didn’t want any more, really, I just wanted them to feel better so we could work together equally. If I could have given them my marbles, I would have... but that was impossible. We gradually learned that at first we needed the marbles physically, to hold them in our hands our mouths, to use the power. Once we figured out the basics, had gained the knowledge of how our power flowed and where it was coming from, the marbles began to disintegrate, like they were getting very old very fast. Inaar swallowed hers right as it began to flake, reasoning she’d have it with her always that way. She was just being funny, not careful. Hinle forbid the rest of us from swallowing our marbles, but we saved the dust. When nothing bad happened to Inaar, except a stomachache, the rest of us swallowed the dust anyhow. It was at that point I not only got a stomachache but a great pain in my back, and the next day my sisters told me they saw the outline of wings behind me. I knew I hadn’t been able to manipulate earth, and had put the golden marble down as a dud, but I’d swallowed the dust of it anyhow. Maybe this made me feel more powerful, strengthening my will, or maybe it was whatever was inside the marble that I needed for the wings. We don’t know. We really don’t know anything. The cause of what sent us searching for power, where the marbles came from, what they were, how long our powers will last... we have no idea. All we know is that my powers are different from the others, and I hate it. I love the powers, but I hate the seclusion. If Inaar had been even near a cliff, all my sisters would have come rushing to her aid at once. Oh... that’s unfair, I suppose, as she is the youngest and cutest of all of us. Everyone loves her best. Me... whatever chance I had of being loved disappeared.
I’ve decided to combine my powers. What if I use the fire wings, my eagle wings, and the wind all together? I might be able to rise higher that way. But I’m scared to practice, especially because of what just happened. My sisters are still standing around me, looking rather like they disapprove of me. Three of my sisters didn’t even listen to my plea for help.
“Thank you,” I repeated, and we all walked our different ways once again.
We’d been practicing on Patchwork Mt. for a long time now, and no one was willing to stop. We were supposed to stop when we were ready, when we’d learned to use our powers, but what did that mean? We all knew how to use them, and could use them pretty well. I think I know... we all want to be as powerful as we can be, but we will continue to believe we’re getting more powerful because around us our sisters are. No sister will stop first. I fear we’ll continue until we all die of old age... or just die, I don’t know. Playing with water and fire around cliffs isn’t the most surefire way to long life. Especially when every moment we sit here is another moment for them to gain power. They might find us first.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Scaled Down (...or something) (2008?)
(Note: This story comes after a story I've already finished, it's kind of a side story to a plot that comes after. Jerald Dinian is a prominent character in most of my Ignolopi stories. If you look to the map included in the blog, Istoti is the red, Ignolopi the brown, Jarismel the black. Vrigle lies east and south of Istoti. Jarismel consists of a bunch of warring clans loosely ruled by a royal family.)
“My life wass polluted by a human scaled Jareld Dinian.”
I froze in my seat at that awful voice rising from directly behind me. I turned around slowly, dreading what I might see. The Wisle stared up at me from under a thick hood, and I shivered despite myself.
“I’ve been told you’ll pull in any job that iss offered to you,” it said in its slippery hissing voice.
I struggled with myself. Usually I do, but I also try to avoid taking jobs from part-fish-part-dog[-part-whatever-else] creatures. Wisles used to be extremely rare, residing only in the small mystical land of Vrigle, but during the last few years they’ve spread throughout the lakes and rivers of Istoti, consequently streaming into neighboring Ignolopi. It wouldn’t be long before they ebbed into Jarismel, and I shuddered as I wondered who would come off worse in the land of my mother’s people.
I opened my mouth with a sigh. “For how much?”
“60 trecavs.”
I almost couldn’t stop my grin from growing or my eyes glinting with sudden interest. “80 trecavs.”
The Wisles shook its head. “60 or nothing. There are more mercenaries in this bar alone.”
I nodded, then struggled some more. Servicing a variety of cliental had thus far put me well ahead of my competition. Finally I was decided. “All right. You want me to kill this guy?”
“Yess. I will give you 20 trecavs now, and the rest when he iss hooked. Undersstood?”
I held out my hand. “You have a — wait.” I pulled my hand away hastily. “Suddenly that name sounds awfully familiar.”
“You would never be able to carry this job out on your own. That iss why I will accompany you.”
I thought hard. “No,” I decided. “I’ve heard that this former Scribe is learned in magic, and he has many friends. In high places.”
“120 trecavs. I am learned in some magic myself.”
He knew from the beginning he’d be paying me more than 60, and there I almost fell for it. I really, really hate taking assassination jobs, I just as much hate having anything to do with important people, but this sum was giving me hallucinations of grandeur. “A job’s a job, I guess,” I said, holding out my hand.
We shook on it. For some clouded reason, I felt as though I had added a layer of danger to my life, a layer that was looking like it would leak. Now I’m not a superstitious person, but it was a prominent feeling of unease that rippled over me. The Wisle smiled, showing his many pointy teeth. That didn’t do anything to dispel my little pool of doom, and I very much wished I hadn’t ever gotten out of my bed that morning.
I took a swig of my ale, turning back to my table. The Wisle stood from its seat on the nearby table and sat again, this time by me. It only stood for a second, but that was all I needed to see it was easily 7 feet tall, a foot of that going towards its tall head. I felt very small. I don’t like feeling small.
“Ssince we are to be migrating together, we sshould exchange scales,” it said. The other patrons edged away from us.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I sighed, resigning myself to the fact I was stuck with it.
“I am Keyper.”
“Charmed,” I said tonelessly. “Call me Stheno. That’s my name. But I don’t think you’ll help my job. I can’t exactly travel inconspicuously when I’ve got a 7-foot fish with me.”
“That iss not a problem,” he said, and in a moment I was looking at a pale, dark-haired man; older than myself, but twice as ugly.
I wrinkled my nose. “No, take off the illusion, you’re less ugly that way.”
He looked surprised.
“Never mind,” I grumbled, “it was a joke. Just — stop staring at me.”
He looked away obediently. Suddenly my mood rose. I might have some fun with this. It wasn’t wildly known, but female Wisles are the ones who rule, even though their ‘king’ plays the part. As a result, it seemed being female gave me an unexpected influence.
“It must’ve taken a load of guts for you to work up the courage to get me for the job,” I said, grinning.
“It has been 9 yearss, 4 moonss, and 3 tidess since Jareld Dinian desstroyed my home and sspeared many of my comradess. I had time enough to think of revenge.”
Not exactly quick, are they. “This one guy took out a bunch of you guys?” I asked. “I’m impressed. He’s not supposed to be much of a warrior. More of a scholarly type.”
“He used a spell.”
I could tell Keyper wasn’t keen on giving me his life’s story, so I let it go.
“I’m ready to go with the glow,” I declared, standing up. “The sun isn’t up all the way yet. Let’s get an early start.”
He stood, too, this time coming only to my chin. Jarismelians tend to be tall, and everything felt right again.
“He was lasst sspotted in Isstoti, to my knowledge,” Keyper told me as I put my pack on my back.
“You don’t know where he is?” I asked, moaning inwardly. I wanted this to be a fast job, please.
“We will find him.” He sounded convinced, but I kept on moaning. Call me a hypocrite, but I hate working with monsters.
“My life wass polluted by a human scaled Jareld Dinian.”
I froze in my seat at that awful voice rising from directly behind me. I turned around slowly, dreading what I might see. The Wisle stared up at me from under a thick hood, and I shivered despite myself.
“I’ve been told you’ll pull in any job that iss offered to you,” it said in its slippery hissing voice.
I struggled with myself. Usually I do, but I also try to avoid taking jobs from part-fish-part-dog[-part-whatever-else] creatures. Wisles used to be extremely rare, residing only in the small mystical land of Vrigle, but during the last few years they’ve spread throughout the lakes and rivers of Istoti, consequently streaming into neighboring Ignolopi. It wouldn’t be long before they ebbed into Jarismel, and I shuddered as I wondered who would come off worse in the land of my mother’s people.
I opened my mouth with a sigh. “For how much?”
“60 trecavs.”
I almost couldn’t stop my grin from growing or my eyes glinting with sudden interest. “80 trecavs.”
The Wisles shook its head. “60 or nothing. There are more mercenaries in this bar alone.”
I nodded, then struggled some more. Servicing a variety of cliental had thus far put me well ahead of my competition. Finally I was decided. “All right. You want me to kill this guy?”
“Yess. I will give you 20 trecavs now, and the rest when he iss hooked. Undersstood?”
I held out my hand. “You have a — wait.” I pulled my hand away hastily. “Suddenly that name sounds awfully familiar.”
“You would never be able to carry this job out on your own. That iss why I will accompany you.”
I thought hard. “No,” I decided. “I’ve heard that this former Scribe is learned in magic, and he has many friends. In high places.”
“120 trecavs. I am learned in some magic myself.”
He knew from the beginning he’d be paying me more than 60, and there I almost fell for it. I really, really hate taking assassination jobs, I just as much hate having anything to do with important people, but this sum was giving me hallucinations of grandeur. “A job’s a job, I guess,” I said, holding out my hand.
We shook on it. For some clouded reason, I felt as though I had added a layer of danger to my life, a layer that was looking like it would leak. Now I’m not a superstitious person, but it was a prominent feeling of unease that rippled over me. The Wisle smiled, showing his many pointy teeth. That didn’t do anything to dispel my little pool of doom, and I very much wished I hadn’t ever gotten out of my bed that morning.
I took a swig of my ale, turning back to my table. The Wisle stood from its seat on the nearby table and sat again, this time by me. It only stood for a second, but that was all I needed to see it was easily 7 feet tall, a foot of that going towards its tall head. I felt very small. I don’t like feeling small.
“Ssince we are to be migrating together, we sshould exchange scales,” it said. The other patrons edged away from us.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I sighed, resigning myself to the fact I was stuck with it.
“I am Keyper.”
“Charmed,” I said tonelessly. “Call me Stheno. That’s my name. But I don’t think you’ll help my job. I can’t exactly travel inconspicuously when I’ve got a 7-foot fish with me.”
“That iss not a problem,” he said, and in a moment I was looking at a pale, dark-haired man; older than myself, but twice as ugly.
I wrinkled my nose. “No, take off the illusion, you’re less ugly that way.”
He looked surprised.
“Never mind,” I grumbled, “it was a joke. Just — stop staring at me.”
He looked away obediently. Suddenly my mood rose. I might have some fun with this. It wasn’t wildly known, but female Wisles are the ones who rule, even though their ‘king’ plays the part. As a result, it seemed being female gave me an unexpected influence.
“It must’ve taken a load of guts for you to work up the courage to get me for the job,” I said, grinning.
“It has been 9 yearss, 4 moonss, and 3 tidess since Jareld Dinian desstroyed my home and sspeared many of my comradess. I had time enough to think of revenge.”
Not exactly quick, are they. “This one guy took out a bunch of you guys?” I asked. “I’m impressed. He’s not supposed to be much of a warrior. More of a scholarly type.”
“He used a spell.”
I could tell Keyper wasn’t keen on giving me his life’s story, so I let it go.
“I’m ready to go with the glow,” I declared, standing up. “The sun isn’t up all the way yet. Let’s get an early start.”
He stood, too, this time coming only to my chin. Jarismelians tend to be tall, and everything felt right again.
“He was lasst sspotted in Isstoti, to my knowledge,” Keyper told me as I put my pack on my back.
“You don’t know where he is?” I asked, moaning inwardly. I wanted this to be a fast job, please.
“We will find him.” He sounded convinced, but I kept on moaning. Call me a hypocrite, but I hate working with monsters.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Earth Angel (2008?)
When the little girl came to our town, no one knew what to make of her. Her dark complexion, brown skin and black hair, was so unlike us that we could only stare in wonder. She rode no horse, and had no companions. Her only possessions were her little knee-length frock and a small bag around her neck. She wore no shoes, and did not wince as she walked the beaten road. After our first initial shock, whispers arose with theories quicker than the wind arose with leaves.
The elderly people, from the generation who worshipped the Immortal Snifle, were convinced she was one of his Earth Angels. The next generation down, who had worshipped many Immortals, thought she was a dark angel, or a demon. The new adults of the town, who worshipped no Immortal, thought demons and angels were poppy-cock, and called her a witch. The younger apprentices were frightened of her, and the children were half-frightened and half-delighted of her. Us older apprentices, however, thought nothing of her at all. We were at the stage where we knew that strange things never happened, but were struggling with the varied beliefs of our elders. So we contented ourselves with joking about the ‘little sprite,’ though we didn’t believe she was any type of faerie.
By the time the little girl had traveled through town, opinions were firmly based. It was almost a disappointment when it seemed she wasn’t going to stay at all. But then she purchased a room at the smallest inn — which belonged to an elderly couple — and took a stroll about town. Although whispers followed her and her green eyes everywhere, no one was willing to talk to her. She didn’t seem to mind, but took everything in with those walnut-shaped eyes. Mothers drew children inside, and dogs growled — the useless things — but the cats (our rats of the town) were quite content to let her pet and scratch them. The purring could almost be heard by me across the street, where I sat watching the horse-shoes cool as my master hammered away at a new plough piece for farmer Willens. The cats tended to gather in front of the blacksmith shop anyhow, because they were used to the noise, and I often fed them parts of my meals. My two fellow apprentices started whispering about the quiet little girl — again — and finally I was tired of it.
“If you think she’s a witch,” I sighed, “go and ask her yourselves.”
They laughed at me, and in a moment had dared me to go and ask her. So I did. I left the horseshoes in their change and strolled out of the workshop.
The little girl did not look up when I approached, nor acknowledge me at all. Now, I had quite a reputation in town for being the most daring lad, so curious eyes followed and watched me, and a few windows opened.
“Hello, little girl,” I said bravely, “I have here a question to ask you.”
“If asking me question, I am listen.” Her voice was quiet and calm, though her speaking pattern strange, and she looked up from her cats. How funny, that even then I thought of them as her cats; how little I really suspected.
“What is your name?” I asked, blundering.
People began to trickle around, gaining courage now that I’d made the first move.
“That question all you ask I?” she said, eyes twinkling. “Then am, I, Vivesnesh.” She spoke the word in an old accent, and struggling to say it I pronounced it “Viv-nish?” for I did not have the quick tongue needed to say the almost-silent ‘es’. She smiled, her face a heart, and nodded. Caught in the wonder of her sudden adorableness, I for a moment forgot what I was there for. “Go on!” I heard one of my mates call.
In remembering I again squared my shoulders and said, “Vivesnesh, are you a witch?”
Now we had a full-fledged audience. The little girl slowly rose to her feet, her head coming to my chest and looking at me appraisingly. Then she grinned. I was completely taken-aback, and almost stepped away from her. The rest of the townsfolk were of the same mind.
“Answer his question, girl!” a voice — sounding suspiciously like the baker — from the crowd cried.
Vivesnesh turned towards the voice, and then spoke. “I not deny being witch — but — nor I say I am one. Before I tell which one is, you tell me what is wrong about being witch.”
“Poppy-cock, just tell us!” someone said. “Who cares about that?”
“Because if you are convincing enough in reasons against witches, then I shall not want be one at all. But if you are not convincing, then I shall be one just to spite you.”
This declaration was met with silence, but after a length Mary Enton — the old carpenter’s wife — stepped forward. “Witches hold Keys to the Hells of this world,” she said harshly, “and they, in darkness, strive to bring others into these fiery pits. Witches are evil.” Mummers of ascent went through the crowd, and I found myself being pushed back.
Vivesnesh shook her head, her grin not faltering. “Then definition you of witch is evil thing who which wears of ring keys around her waist?”
Mary grew red as a few scattered chitters arose, and opened her mouth again. “Witches are women — or girls — who behave strangely and seek to drive us from our ways,” someone tried.
“Your ways strange,” Vivesnesh said. “Paths you don’t really follows. You drive yourselves from your ways, why a witch do for you?”
This caused many angry mutters, but again a few laughs.
“Witches mingle in magic,” someone finally said, “and magic is evil in its corrupting ways.”
“Magic? Evil?” Vivesnesh said, her grin finally wearing down to a shadowy smile. “Why do you so say?”
“Things of abnormal degree are for the Immortals,” the person — Edme the tanner, I think — said, “for mortals to mingle in the abilities of the Immortals is in that the mortal is greedy for power.”
Vivesnesh appraised the tanner with a curious eye. “Reason, finally,” she said quietly, “and you have points. Truths many are your statements, but twisting truths. Those greedy for power are evil. But because one can something do, not means he sought to do it.”
“Even if you are born with the power, you are evil,” Edme insisted.
Vivesnesh bowed her head. “You make wonderful things,” she told him, “your skill is great. But you were born not with. Was it a crime for you to obtain and nurture yours skill?”
“Tanning is no magic,” Edme scowled.
Vivesnesh shook her head. “Ah. If were I give you sweets, you would make sick on them, and blame me for upset stomach.” Then she laughed, again startling us. “Silly people,” she said. “If the Immortals give you gifts, why no use them? Magic can be used for evil, but so can everything else! A cook can poison foods, or get people addicted them without notice. A candle-maker can make faulty candles cheat to his customers. A noble can order death at snap of a finger, but never have I heard of fire-burning for nobles.” Her statement was met with another silence, as people absorbed her words and tried to puzzle them out.
“Enough with this nonsense!” a guard commanded gruffly. “A witch is a witch. Burn her!” The chant almost started, but Vivesnesh was not finished.
“I never said was I witch,” she exclaimed quite calmly.
“You don’t deny it!” came a response.
“Because I couldn’t know I was,” she said sweetly, “because I might have been born with magic and know not. Any of you could have!”
Edme had said so, and even the pig-headed could see she was right.
“If you wish, test me for a witch,” Vivesnesh said cheerfully.
“Do you think you are a witch?” I asked.
She laughed. “No, I don’t! If but you treat all your strangers way this, I must easier make for them, or you would them burn!”
I finally laughed at her cleverness, but I was one of few who did. It looked like the little girl was in for a burning, but the couple who owned the small inn intervened.
“She has paid us to stay at our inn,” the husband said, “and we will keep our side of the bargain!”
“Shame on you, terrorizing this poor little one,” his wife scolded, taking Vivesnesh’s hand. The crowd did not bother them, and we did not see Vivesnesh until the morning, when she came by to pet the cats. People were afraid of her, so they stayed away, and our master forbade us to even look at her. My fellow apprentices joked about her some more. I joined in a little, but my mind kept wandering back to her gabble with the crowd. Who was Vivesnesh, really? When she made to leave, my master was too busy to notice, so I slipped away to her.
“Viv-nesh,” I called softly, “where are you going?”
“Another place,” she said, shrugging, “tell, more things, to.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
She smiled again. “Curiosity not always a virtue,” she said, echoing some of the few of my mother’s words I remembered.
“My father always said elusiveness is worse,” I challenged.
She shrugged. “I am Vivesnesh. Good-by, boy.”
“My name is Pietter,” I blurted.
She looked back at me. “Good-by, Pietter.”
I stared after her, thoughts running through my head. “Wait!” I finally called, running to catch up with her. She kept walking.
“I want to come with you,” I said quickly.
She stopped. “You what?” she asked, finally startled.
“My apprenticeship is almost over,” I said bravely, “and I have always wanted to go on an adventure.”
“Life is an adventure,” she said, “go home. The road no easier.”
“I don’t want easy, I want a challenge!” I cried.
She paused and bit her lip. “Oh, all right,” she sighed, “but you are never to complain.” “Of course not,” I said bravely, but that promise would be a hard one to keep, and it would be a long time before I understood why she so easily allowed my coming.
The elderly people, from the generation who worshipped the Immortal Snifle, were convinced she was one of his Earth Angels. The next generation down, who had worshipped many Immortals, thought she was a dark angel, or a demon. The new adults of the town, who worshipped no Immortal, thought demons and angels were poppy-cock, and called her a witch. The younger apprentices were frightened of her, and the children were half-frightened and half-delighted of her. Us older apprentices, however, thought nothing of her at all. We were at the stage where we knew that strange things never happened, but were struggling with the varied beliefs of our elders. So we contented ourselves with joking about the ‘little sprite,’ though we didn’t believe she was any type of faerie.
By the time the little girl had traveled through town, opinions were firmly based. It was almost a disappointment when it seemed she wasn’t going to stay at all. But then she purchased a room at the smallest inn — which belonged to an elderly couple — and took a stroll about town. Although whispers followed her and her green eyes everywhere, no one was willing to talk to her. She didn’t seem to mind, but took everything in with those walnut-shaped eyes. Mothers drew children inside, and dogs growled — the useless things — but the cats (our rats of the town) were quite content to let her pet and scratch them. The purring could almost be heard by me across the street, where I sat watching the horse-shoes cool as my master hammered away at a new plough piece for farmer Willens. The cats tended to gather in front of the blacksmith shop anyhow, because they were used to the noise, and I often fed them parts of my meals. My two fellow apprentices started whispering about the quiet little girl — again — and finally I was tired of it.
“If you think she’s a witch,” I sighed, “go and ask her yourselves.”
They laughed at me, and in a moment had dared me to go and ask her. So I did. I left the horseshoes in their change and strolled out of the workshop.
The little girl did not look up when I approached, nor acknowledge me at all. Now, I had quite a reputation in town for being the most daring lad, so curious eyes followed and watched me, and a few windows opened.
“Hello, little girl,” I said bravely, “I have here a question to ask you.”
“If asking me question, I am listen.” Her voice was quiet and calm, though her speaking pattern strange, and she looked up from her cats. How funny, that even then I thought of them as her cats; how little I really suspected.
“What is your name?” I asked, blundering.
People began to trickle around, gaining courage now that I’d made the first move.
“That question all you ask I?” she said, eyes twinkling. “Then am, I, Vivesnesh.” She spoke the word in an old accent, and struggling to say it I pronounced it “Viv-nish?” for I did not have the quick tongue needed to say the almost-silent ‘es’. She smiled, her face a heart, and nodded. Caught in the wonder of her sudden adorableness, I for a moment forgot what I was there for. “Go on!” I heard one of my mates call.
In remembering I again squared my shoulders and said, “Vivesnesh, are you a witch?”
Now we had a full-fledged audience. The little girl slowly rose to her feet, her head coming to my chest and looking at me appraisingly. Then she grinned. I was completely taken-aback, and almost stepped away from her. The rest of the townsfolk were of the same mind.
“Answer his question, girl!” a voice — sounding suspiciously like the baker — from the crowd cried.
Vivesnesh turned towards the voice, and then spoke. “I not deny being witch — but — nor I say I am one. Before I tell which one is, you tell me what is wrong about being witch.”
“Poppy-cock, just tell us!” someone said. “Who cares about that?”
“Because if you are convincing enough in reasons against witches, then I shall not want be one at all. But if you are not convincing, then I shall be one just to spite you.”
This declaration was met with silence, but after a length Mary Enton — the old carpenter’s wife — stepped forward. “Witches hold Keys to the Hells of this world,” she said harshly, “and they, in darkness, strive to bring others into these fiery pits. Witches are evil.” Mummers of ascent went through the crowd, and I found myself being pushed back.
Vivesnesh shook her head, her grin not faltering. “Then definition you of witch is evil thing who which wears of ring keys around her waist?”
Mary grew red as a few scattered chitters arose, and opened her mouth again. “Witches are women — or girls — who behave strangely and seek to drive us from our ways,” someone tried.
“Your ways strange,” Vivesnesh said. “Paths you don’t really follows. You drive yourselves from your ways, why a witch do for you?”
This caused many angry mutters, but again a few laughs.
“Witches mingle in magic,” someone finally said, “and magic is evil in its corrupting ways.”
“Magic? Evil?” Vivesnesh said, her grin finally wearing down to a shadowy smile. “Why do you so say?”
“Things of abnormal degree are for the Immortals,” the person — Edme the tanner, I think — said, “for mortals to mingle in the abilities of the Immortals is in that the mortal is greedy for power.”
Vivesnesh appraised the tanner with a curious eye. “Reason, finally,” she said quietly, “and you have points. Truths many are your statements, but twisting truths. Those greedy for power are evil. But because one can something do, not means he sought to do it.”
“Even if you are born with the power, you are evil,” Edme insisted.
Vivesnesh bowed her head. “You make wonderful things,” she told him, “your skill is great. But you were born not with. Was it a crime for you to obtain and nurture yours skill?”
“Tanning is no magic,” Edme scowled.
Vivesnesh shook her head. “Ah. If were I give you sweets, you would make sick on them, and blame me for upset stomach.” Then she laughed, again startling us. “Silly people,” she said. “If the Immortals give you gifts, why no use them? Magic can be used for evil, but so can everything else! A cook can poison foods, or get people addicted them without notice. A candle-maker can make faulty candles cheat to his customers. A noble can order death at snap of a finger, but never have I heard of fire-burning for nobles.” Her statement was met with another silence, as people absorbed her words and tried to puzzle them out.
“Enough with this nonsense!” a guard commanded gruffly. “A witch is a witch. Burn her!” The chant almost started, but Vivesnesh was not finished.
“I never said was I witch,” she exclaimed quite calmly.
“You don’t deny it!” came a response.
“Because I couldn’t know I was,” she said sweetly, “because I might have been born with magic and know not. Any of you could have!”
Edme had said so, and even the pig-headed could see she was right.
“If you wish, test me for a witch,” Vivesnesh said cheerfully.
“Do you think you are a witch?” I asked.
She laughed. “No, I don’t! If but you treat all your strangers way this, I must easier make for them, or you would them burn!”
I finally laughed at her cleverness, but I was one of few who did. It looked like the little girl was in for a burning, but the couple who owned the small inn intervened.
“She has paid us to stay at our inn,” the husband said, “and we will keep our side of the bargain!”
“Shame on you, terrorizing this poor little one,” his wife scolded, taking Vivesnesh’s hand. The crowd did not bother them, and we did not see Vivesnesh until the morning, when she came by to pet the cats. People were afraid of her, so they stayed away, and our master forbade us to even look at her. My fellow apprentices joked about her some more. I joined in a little, but my mind kept wandering back to her gabble with the crowd. Who was Vivesnesh, really? When she made to leave, my master was too busy to notice, so I slipped away to her.
“Viv-nesh,” I called softly, “where are you going?”
“Another place,” she said, shrugging, “tell, more things, to.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
She smiled again. “Curiosity not always a virtue,” she said, echoing some of the few of my mother’s words I remembered.
“My father always said elusiveness is worse,” I challenged.
She shrugged. “I am Vivesnesh. Good-by, boy.”
“My name is Pietter,” I blurted.
She looked back at me. “Good-by, Pietter.”
I stared after her, thoughts running through my head. “Wait!” I finally called, running to catch up with her. She kept walking.
“I want to come with you,” I said quickly.
She stopped. “You what?” she asked, finally startled.
“My apprenticeship is almost over,” I said bravely, “and I have always wanted to go on an adventure.”
“Life is an adventure,” she said, “go home. The road no easier.”
“I don’t want easy, I want a challenge!” I cried.
She paused and bit her lip. “Oh, all right,” she sighed, “but you are never to complain.” “Of course not,” I said bravely, but that promise would be a hard one to keep, and it would be a long time before I understood why she so easily allowed my coming.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Nightshades (or ShædoWævre) (2008?)
He froze when I entered the room. “Y-you.”
He made a dash for the window, abandoning the last of his intended targets. With a push from my mind I made an illusion of the window a foot from where it actually was, covering up the real window with a simple cloak. In his mad dash for escape he did not notice the change and charged right into the wall. As he fell backward I finished the spell that barred him from leaving. I had pursued him as prey, and I had captured him. From the floor he looked up to me, terror in his eyes and in every tense muscle of his body.
“Shædo Darkshad,” he whispered, his mind no doubt rushing through all the terrible things he had heard about me.
“Wævre... Eriiku, wasn’t it?”
His terror froze his voice as his body trembled. My eyes softened at his fear, and I put my kodachi, the traditional weapon of the Nightshades, away. He could not have been more than 16 years old, a year older than I when I became a Shædo.
“Do you know your victims?” I asked softly, waving a hand over the bloody carnage. Surprised by my question he could only shake his head numbly.
“The Kano family,” I stated, keeping my eyes off the corpses. No matter how many times I had killed, no matter how much blood I’d seen, I still detested the sight of slaughter.
He looked at me blankly.
“Kano Faramaru was an only child, married Tesene Nami at age 18; both their parents died, leaving them the last of the Kano and Tesene names. Now they and their son are dead. Their son, Kano Yama, was planning to marry Nite Mara. You have left her alone and heart-broken. Their daughter Kano Tesene just turned 14, and had to watch her family slaughtered before her eyes. Do you know why?”
Eriiku finally composed himself to defend his murdering group. “Tesene Nami’s father was accused of treason 10 years ago, escaping with the help of traitors!”
I waited impatiently for him to continue, though I knew he would not, and finally cooled my frustration. “I used to be one of the Daybreakers,” I told him quietly.
“Impossible!” he blurted.
I knelt down beside him. “Let my submit my consciousness to you, so that you may see for yourself why I became one of the Nightshades.”
Murmuring my technique under my breath, I placed my hand on his clammy brow. His blood-spattered hands clenched, he was unable to react more quickly than that. He was unexperienced, naive, not adept at the skills of the assassins. Just as I had been, when I didn’t understand how similar and yet how very opposite the assassin bands, the Nightshades and the Daybreakers, were. Closing out the world around me, I entered his mind.
I was born 8 months after conception, like all assassin children are. Do you know why? It’s not being an assassin that makes the mother die from giving birth at 8 months, it is that event which makes a child fit to be an assassin. Born early, I was frail and weak like we all are. My father was not the kind that clings to the child as a memory of his wife, instead kind that curses the child and leaves him alone. I was brought up by the Eclipse assassins, the neutral ones who performed very little work themselves. They spent their time instead creating new techniques and raising assassin children to test them. Despite their motives, they were not unkind people, and I was treated the same as most other children aside from the training. I trained hard to become an assassin; not because I particularly wanted to, but that was that they told me, all I knew, so that was what I did. The Eclipse guild had pacts with the Nightshades and Daybreakers, giving them each an equal amount of assassins each year, keeping few for themselves. It was thought by many then there was only one difference between the Nightshades and Daybreakers, that one group worked by night, the other solely during the day.
When I was 10, that all changed.
The Eclipse guild was destroyed during an eclipse, when it was neither night nor day and the blame would not easily fall on either group of assassins. I was taken by the Daybreakers at that point to be one of them. They told me, and the world, that the Nightshades had done the horrid deed and were a group born from evil. The Daybreakders also told most of the children that it was the Nightshades who killed our mothers. Frantic for a reason for this madness, no one doubted them, and the Nightshades became horrors in bedtime tales. I trained harder than ever before to become a skilled assassin now that I had a purpose: I was going to kill all Shædos for my mother’s death.
I was sent on my first mission at 14; like you, I asked no questions and doubted naught of what they told me. I killed. I killed so many, I can not even remember them all. I was a killing machine taking orders from a group everyone believed in. But people tend to believe in things they can not prove, because they want the easy way of it all.
I was not terribly skilled for my age, but I was ahead of most of my classmates. Thus I was not surprised when I was ordered to go almost alone on an extremely important mission. If I succeeded in this mission, I would be ready to go against the Nightshades. But something happened that day, something I saw and did not like. My partner was a much older assassin, sent mostly to observe my actions, and to step in if things got out of hand.
They got out of hand.
When I reached the estate in the afternoon, the family who was my target had gone out. I was ordered to search for them, and I did. By the time I found them it was nightfall, and I expected to be pulled out. I was not. I reasoned that, since the Nightshades weren’t doing only night work anymore, the Daybreakers must clean up after them. Part of me doubted this, but I went ahead anyway.
The family had hired guards to protect them, and I got careless. I managed to finish off the primary target, the father, but swooned from loss of blood and fell to the ground. My partner jumped in, then, finishing the guards. I was ready to continue, but he stared me down with a sneer. I had never had any friends, and known none who did, but I felt a chill down my spine at what my partner thought of me. While I sat there, trying to heal myself, he slaughtered the rest of the targets until all who were left was a young boy holding his infant sister. The boy was frightened but held his ground, trying with all his might to protect his sister. Against trained assassins he had no chance, but my partner didn’t kill him. Instead he grabbed the infant from his arms and slit her throat before his eyes. The boy went mad and charged at the assassin, who slit his gut but did not finish him.
“He’ll die in a few minutes,” he said, grabbing my arm and jumping out of there with me. Nothing was said of this, but I never forgot that boy’s mad eyes as he wriggled in agony on the floor, soaked in his own blood, spending the last moments of his life in a pool of moonlight. He never screamed, not even once.
I was an assassin, expected to forget my experience and move on. Part of me did, training with new vigor. Part of me did not.
Finally the day of my 15th birthday arrived, and I was promoted to a 2nd class Wævre. I was so proud, so full of myself, so ready to take on the whole population of Shædos. I requested a Nightshade mission, and my request was granted. I was going to infiltrate the Nightshade hideout and kill all members of a ‘meeting’ they told me was being held in an inner room of the complex. I asked no questions, and left at daybreak. The Nightshades, struggling to get by since their reputation was ruined, were in a sorry state. I snuck into their hideout with relative ease and found the room in under an hour. That’s when everything changed. This room, this special room with cherry-wood doors and a silver handle, this room was not a meeting room. It was not a family apartment. It was not a kitchen, an eating room, a bathing room, or a gameroom. No., this room was a nursery. More than 30 Nigthshade children were playing harmless assassin games with each other. The eldest was maybe 6, the youngest not even crawling. It would only have taken me a few minutes to finish this ‘meeting’, I could’ve returned in no time and been promoted to 1st class. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I remembered the baby girl killed before her brother, and I could not do it. I might’ve come around in a minute or two, but I stalled long enough. Six Shædows caught me with my claw half out of my pocket, the children still played happily. I was drugged immediately.
When regained consciousness I was not where I could’ve expected to be. All stories of the Nigthshades go on and on about small dark rooms with spiders or snakes and hot irons. Instead, I was in a run-down wooden room, with dust floating freely and sunshine pouring in through cracks in the walls. In front of me stood a tired-looking old man with sideburns who folded his fingers around each other and asked me, “Why didn’t you kill them?”
I was as shocked as you were a moment ago, and could not answer.
Someone behind me tapped me with the blade of their kodachi and I jumped a foot in the air, landing hard on my behind. Someone snickered, but the old man did not move. He still expected an answer, and I couldn’t give one.
“Are you a Wævre or a Shædo?” he said after some time had passed.
I swallowed, finding my mouth very dry. “May I ask one question?”
“You may ask.”
I swallowed again, about to express in words what I had always been too afraid to find out. “Where are the surviving members of the Eclipse guild?” It was a question many of the Daybreaker students had discussed, but never dared ask the teachers, who always looked stern whenever the name of the Eclipse came up, and a stern assassin is not a friendly assassin.
The old Shædo regarded me thoughtfully, finally answering in his dry tone, “I am one, Echomaru is another, and another two were spared by you.”
I could not doubt his words, for I saw the moon mark on his neck and had seen it on the two little ones who had been practicing advanced illusion spells in the corner of the nursery. That meant one thing to me right then: if the Nightshades had slaughtered the Eclipses, why would the survivors seek refuge here? It meant the ones who destroyed the Eclipse was not the Nightshades, but the Daybreakers. No, do not argue. You only believe what the Daybreakers always told you, but you never bothered to find out if it was the truth. You are angry, but you can not deny it. No normal assassin can show false memories in a mind link. But wait, there’s more. That’s not all the Daybreakders did. Do you want to hear more? Silence. All right, I’ll continue then.
I thought about what I had heard for many long minutes, but nobody moved a muscle. I realized I was in the presence of the most skilled assassins in the country, and they were all Shædos. I was in awe of their power, and wanted it too. But more than that, I wanted to stop the sick crusade of the Daybreakers. I didn’t know why they had done those thing, but it seemed to me the Shædos did. I made up my mind, and lifted my head to look squarely at the Eclipse leader of the Nightshades.
“I am not a Wævre anymore.”
His stern look softened, and then he smiled a little bit. “You stopped being one the moment that ugly claw of yours froze. No true Wævre would ever hesitate in killing anyone, especially the defenseless.”
I knew he was right.
As a member of the Nightshades, my training was very different. In the bad years the Nightshades experienced they had perfected what skills they could, including those of teaching. I learned much, more efficiently than ever, and I’d never had so much fun. Echomaru, the Eclipse survivor, was only a few years older than I. Despite the cruel prank he’d played with his kodachi my first day, we became friends, sparring with each other every day. He was a practical joker, and though I preferred training to being in on one of his games, I never ceased finding them amusing. I also befriended Daichi, one of the many friends Echomaru had. Yes, friends. The color and the feeling you are getting from me are unknown to you, I’m sorry for that, but that is how the Daybreakers work. The Nightshades are different We are more like one big family constantly growing and losing members. I’ve grieved for many since I joined 2 years ago, but I’ve never been so happy. I rose quickly, until my level was the highest (10) and I had earned the name of Darkshad amongst the Daybreakers. I learned what I wanted soon after my arrival, before I learned the real hideout of the Nightshades. I won’t tell you the location of our hidden base, but I will tell you why I hate the Daybreakers more than ever.
Their atrocities started some years, 3 or 4, before the end of the Eclipse. The Daybreakers had been getting increasingly lax in their skills, lazy in their training, and snub-nosed in their missions. They got so bad that they were forced to carry out missions at night so they wouldn’t be detected. This led to anger against the Nightshades for owning the night, making it ‘easier for them’ in the eyes of the Daybreakers. They started killing off Nightshade assassins randomly. Then a new leader was elected after bringing forth the idea of getting rid of the Eclipse ‘nuisance’ and at the same time framing the Nightshades. It took some time to work that plan out, but your leader is a genius, and the plan was executed exactly how he wanted it.
Since then the Daybreakers have dominated the assassins’ market, taking all and any jobs. From anyone as long as the price is high. Ethics? The Daybreakers chew the very concept and spit it in the mud to trample. Assassins used to have codes and rules. The Nightshades still do.
This girl’s grandfather was never arrested for treason. The truth is far simpler, a fact of human greed; a neighbor was extremely jealous of the family. This neighbor, consequently, would inherit the Kano fortune. The Daybreakers knew all this, you are responsible for your own ignorance. The government doesn’t have the funds or backing to afford many assassins. Do you still think ‘treason’ is why you kill so many people? Even the government is loath to part with yen for ‘treason’ no one remembers. The Daybreakers train mass-murderers, not assassins. The Wævres are killing for nothing but money, and they don’t only stick to specific targets... they enjoy it. Decide for yourself if you think that is right.
I broke the connection, knowing that if I went on any longer I would become dangerously emotional. Assassins must be stable on a mission, and right now my mission was to kill this young Wævre. Really, though, I wouldn’t if the boy said the right words. His fate was in his own hands, he would decide if he lived or died. I waited for him, giving him five minutes. Then I drew my kodachi and held it before him.
“Any last words?” I asked.
He lifted his head to reveal a tear-stained face and mournful eyes. I knew then what he would say. “Take care of her,” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
“You would join us,” I said softly. I knew he would refuse.
“I want — my father must know I died in battle,” he said, gulping more tears back.
For a moment I regretted forcing the knowledge and emotions on him in such a way he would have no control of himself. “Death is no grand adventure.”
“I know. That is why I deserve it.”
I nodded, and then I killed him.
The girl awoke before I could decide what to do with her. She saw my face, saw my bloody kodachi, and screamed.
“Damnit!” I swore, wiping my weapon and sheathing it in one fluid motion.
“Shut up,” I told her, walking to her. She saw her dead family and screamed some more, unable to do anything else in her state of shock. I walked closer, and saw her tense as if to jump away.
“Shut up or his companions will come for you too,” I ordered, pointing to the claw marks on all the bodies.
She stopped screaming abruptly. “Oh,” she whispered, and her unclenched her fist. A dagger fell to the floor.
“Oh,” I said, realizing that she might have killed me. I was stupid for letting my guard down.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured, putting a hand on the wound in her side. “You are the legendary Nightshade, are you going to kill me?” Her voice was steady and stern, but it didn’t fool me. She was acting rationally because she was in shock: if she came out of it I would be in trouble.
“No. Shædos must have reasons to kill.”
She got to her feet, then gazed at me, her eyes level with mine. “I understand. I listened on. Sort of.”
“Impossible,” I said briskly.
“But so is being skilled as an assassin when I was not born as one and am not short and small.”
I bristled, despite my training. Of course assassins are small, they have to be. “It’s impossible.”
“It’s not. You assassins think you’re so wonderful, but you never look anywhere else for comparison. My family were experts in the assassin arts.”
“You mean magic.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the big-eyed girl, unsure of what to do.
“Take me with you or I’ll die,” she said quietly, her eyebrows curling.
She was about to snap: I had no other choice. “Swear to me, now,” I commanded.
“I swear to you, I will be a true Shædo, I will follow the ways of the Nightshades, I will not endanger them — I swear to you, cousin Kano Jaisukeru.”
I could not tell if her words were truth or not, but right then I had to believe them. More than that, I wanted to. I picked her up, and a split second later we were gone. The Wævres would find the mess, and take care of Eriiku. I regretted killing the boy, it hurt especially after sharing a connection. I would not forget him.
Tesene passed out before we reached Nightshade headquarters, which was just as well, because I should have drugged her anyway. Without fuss her wound was treated, only then did Eclipse question me.
“She says I am her cousin,” I said tonelessly.
The reply came a moment later. “That is correct.”
I clenched my teeth. “Did you know before you sent me?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you?”
“I thought you might be the son of her aunt, but I did not know.”
“You could have found out.”
“I could have, and I am sorry. We should have been able to save more of your family.”
“My family,” I echoed. It was strange, being able to say those words and finally have them mean something. “How did she know?” I wondered aloud.
“That, you will have to ask her yourself.”
“Is she going to stay?”
“You know the answer. Do you want her to?”
“Yes. She is intelligent. And skilled.”
“Then I am sorry.”
“Why not?”
He looked me sternly in the eye, with no answer and the inability to hear any more questions. I left the room with no idea of what to do with my cousin.
“I say we keep her,” came a familiar voice on my right.
“You heard him, Echomaru.”
“I mean in secret. She’s cute.”
“She’s my cousin.”
“And the poor girl has nowhere to go, no profession to take but that of an assassin taught to her by her daring cousin... and his dashing friend, of course.”
“We can’t.”
“You never like breaking rules, do you?”
“This is too important to.” Echomaru frowned. “I know. That makes all the more reason for us to do it.”
I stopped to face him, unused to seeing him this way. “You’re serious, that’s unusual.”
“Why shouldn’t others get the chance to be assassins? We need to recruit more anyway, as the Daybreakers are still taking most of the newborns. We could use at least one tall person on the team.”
“She’s not taller, she’s the same height, and we don’t work in teams.”
“Can’t we give her a chance? Preventing her from doing this would be just like the Daybreaker way.”
“How so?”
“They don’t let anyone choose.”
I closed my eyes to think. It was a hard choice to make. There weren’t many female assassins as it was, and there had never been a normal child raised as an assassin. Most of the facts were against me, but my feelings played too much into it. I opened my eyes, and nodded. “All right.”
Echomaru grinned triumphantly. “Yes! Finally a cute girl in my squad!”
“This isn’t an army, and if you get anywhere near Tesene I’ll whip you.”
“You’ve never beat me before!”
“I will now,” I assured him, but he only laughed.
We didn’t let Daichi in on the secret, because he had problems keeping them. This was something I would regret later, but at the time it was the logical choice.
He made a dash for the window, abandoning the last of his intended targets. With a push from my mind I made an illusion of the window a foot from where it actually was, covering up the real window with a simple cloak. In his mad dash for escape he did not notice the change and charged right into the wall. As he fell backward I finished the spell that barred him from leaving. I had pursued him as prey, and I had captured him. From the floor he looked up to me, terror in his eyes and in every tense muscle of his body.
“Shædo Darkshad,” he whispered, his mind no doubt rushing through all the terrible things he had heard about me.
“Wævre... Eriiku, wasn’t it?”
His terror froze his voice as his body trembled. My eyes softened at his fear, and I put my kodachi, the traditional weapon of the Nightshades, away. He could not have been more than 16 years old, a year older than I when I became a Shædo.
“Do you know your victims?” I asked softly, waving a hand over the bloody carnage. Surprised by my question he could only shake his head numbly.
“The Kano family,” I stated, keeping my eyes off the corpses. No matter how many times I had killed, no matter how much blood I’d seen, I still detested the sight of slaughter.
He looked at me blankly.
“Kano Faramaru was an only child, married Tesene Nami at age 18; both their parents died, leaving them the last of the Kano and Tesene names. Now they and their son are dead. Their son, Kano Yama, was planning to marry Nite Mara. You have left her alone and heart-broken. Their daughter Kano Tesene just turned 14, and had to watch her family slaughtered before her eyes. Do you know why?”
Eriiku finally composed himself to defend his murdering group. “Tesene Nami’s father was accused of treason 10 years ago, escaping with the help of traitors!”
I waited impatiently for him to continue, though I knew he would not, and finally cooled my frustration. “I used to be one of the Daybreakers,” I told him quietly.
“Impossible!” he blurted.
I knelt down beside him. “Let my submit my consciousness to you, so that you may see for yourself why I became one of the Nightshades.”
Murmuring my technique under my breath, I placed my hand on his clammy brow. His blood-spattered hands clenched, he was unable to react more quickly than that. He was unexperienced, naive, not adept at the skills of the assassins. Just as I had been, when I didn’t understand how similar and yet how very opposite the assassin bands, the Nightshades and the Daybreakers, were. Closing out the world around me, I entered his mind.
I was born 8 months after conception, like all assassin children are. Do you know why? It’s not being an assassin that makes the mother die from giving birth at 8 months, it is that event which makes a child fit to be an assassin. Born early, I was frail and weak like we all are. My father was not the kind that clings to the child as a memory of his wife, instead kind that curses the child and leaves him alone. I was brought up by the Eclipse assassins, the neutral ones who performed very little work themselves. They spent their time instead creating new techniques and raising assassin children to test them. Despite their motives, they were not unkind people, and I was treated the same as most other children aside from the training. I trained hard to become an assassin; not because I particularly wanted to, but that was that they told me, all I knew, so that was what I did. The Eclipse guild had pacts with the Nightshades and Daybreakers, giving them each an equal amount of assassins each year, keeping few for themselves. It was thought by many then there was only one difference between the Nightshades and Daybreakers, that one group worked by night, the other solely during the day.
When I was 10, that all changed.
The Eclipse guild was destroyed during an eclipse, when it was neither night nor day and the blame would not easily fall on either group of assassins. I was taken by the Daybreakers at that point to be one of them. They told me, and the world, that the Nightshades had done the horrid deed and were a group born from evil. The Daybreakders also told most of the children that it was the Nightshades who killed our mothers. Frantic for a reason for this madness, no one doubted them, and the Nightshades became horrors in bedtime tales. I trained harder than ever before to become a skilled assassin now that I had a purpose: I was going to kill all Shædos for my mother’s death.
I was sent on my first mission at 14; like you, I asked no questions and doubted naught of what they told me. I killed. I killed so many, I can not even remember them all. I was a killing machine taking orders from a group everyone believed in. But people tend to believe in things they can not prove, because they want the easy way of it all.
I was not terribly skilled for my age, but I was ahead of most of my classmates. Thus I was not surprised when I was ordered to go almost alone on an extremely important mission. If I succeeded in this mission, I would be ready to go against the Nightshades. But something happened that day, something I saw and did not like. My partner was a much older assassin, sent mostly to observe my actions, and to step in if things got out of hand.
They got out of hand.
When I reached the estate in the afternoon, the family who was my target had gone out. I was ordered to search for them, and I did. By the time I found them it was nightfall, and I expected to be pulled out. I was not. I reasoned that, since the Nightshades weren’t doing only night work anymore, the Daybreakers must clean up after them. Part of me doubted this, but I went ahead anyway.
The family had hired guards to protect them, and I got careless. I managed to finish off the primary target, the father, but swooned from loss of blood and fell to the ground. My partner jumped in, then, finishing the guards. I was ready to continue, but he stared me down with a sneer. I had never had any friends, and known none who did, but I felt a chill down my spine at what my partner thought of me. While I sat there, trying to heal myself, he slaughtered the rest of the targets until all who were left was a young boy holding his infant sister. The boy was frightened but held his ground, trying with all his might to protect his sister. Against trained assassins he had no chance, but my partner didn’t kill him. Instead he grabbed the infant from his arms and slit her throat before his eyes. The boy went mad and charged at the assassin, who slit his gut but did not finish him.
“He’ll die in a few minutes,” he said, grabbing my arm and jumping out of there with me. Nothing was said of this, but I never forgot that boy’s mad eyes as he wriggled in agony on the floor, soaked in his own blood, spending the last moments of his life in a pool of moonlight. He never screamed, not even once.
I was an assassin, expected to forget my experience and move on. Part of me did, training with new vigor. Part of me did not.
Finally the day of my 15th birthday arrived, and I was promoted to a 2nd class Wævre. I was so proud, so full of myself, so ready to take on the whole population of Shædos. I requested a Nightshade mission, and my request was granted. I was going to infiltrate the Nightshade hideout and kill all members of a ‘meeting’ they told me was being held in an inner room of the complex. I asked no questions, and left at daybreak. The Nightshades, struggling to get by since their reputation was ruined, were in a sorry state. I snuck into their hideout with relative ease and found the room in under an hour. That’s when everything changed. This room, this special room with cherry-wood doors and a silver handle, this room was not a meeting room. It was not a family apartment. It was not a kitchen, an eating room, a bathing room, or a gameroom. No., this room was a nursery. More than 30 Nigthshade children were playing harmless assassin games with each other. The eldest was maybe 6, the youngest not even crawling. It would only have taken me a few minutes to finish this ‘meeting’, I could’ve returned in no time and been promoted to 1st class. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I remembered the baby girl killed before her brother, and I could not do it. I might’ve come around in a minute or two, but I stalled long enough. Six Shædows caught me with my claw half out of my pocket, the children still played happily. I was drugged immediately.
When regained consciousness I was not where I could’ve expected to be. All stories of the Nigthshades go on and on about small dark rooms with spiders or snakes and hot irons. Instead, I was in a run-down wooden room, with dust floating freely and sunshine pouring in through cracks in the walls. In front of me stood a tired-looking old man with sideburns who folded his fingers around each other and asked me, “Why didn’t you kill them?”
I was as shocked as you were a moment ago, and could not answer.
Someone behind me tapped me with the blade of their kodachi and I jumped a foot in the air, landing hard on my behind. Someone snickered, but the old man did not move. He still expected an answer, and I couldn’t give one.
“Are you a Wævre or a Shædo?” he said after some time had passed.
I swallowed, finding my mouth very dry. “May I ask one question?”
“You may ask.”
I swallowed again, about to express in words what I had always been too afraid to find out. “Where are the surviving members of the Eclipse guild?” It was a question many of the Daybreaker students had discussed, but never dared ask the teachers, who always looked stern whenever the name of the Eclipse came up, and a stern assassin is not a friendly assassin.
The old Shædo regarded me thoughtfully, finally answering in his dry tone, “I am one, Echomaru is another, and another two were spared by you.”
I could not doubt his words, for I saw the moon mark on his neck and had seen it on the two little ones who had been practicing advanced illusion spells in the corner of the nursery. That meant one thing to me right then: if the Nightshades had slaughtered the Eclipses, why would the survivors seek refuge here? It meant the ones who destroyed the Eclipse was not the Nightshades, but the Daybreakers. No, do not argue. You only believe what the Daybreakers always told you, but you never bothered to find out if it was the truth. You are angry, but you can not deny it. No normal assassin can show false memories in a mind link. But wait, there’s more. That’s not all the Daybreakders did. Do you want to hear more? Silence. All right, I’ll continue then.
I thought about what I had heard for many long minutes, but nobody moved a muscle. I realized I was in the presence of the most skilled assassins in the country, and they were all Shædos. I was in awe of their power, and wanted it too. But more than that, I wanted to stop the sick crusade of the Daybreakers. I didn’t know why they had done those thing, but it seemed to me the Shædos did. I made up my mind, and lifted my head to look squarely at the Eclipse leader of the Nightshades.
“I am not a Wævre anymore.”
His stern look softened, and then he smiled a little bit. “You stopped being one the moment that ugly claw of yours froze. No true Wævre would ever hesitate in killing anyone, especially the defenseless.”
I knew he was right.
As a member of the Nightshades, my training was very different. In the bad years the Nightshades experienced they had perfected what skills they could, including those of teaching. I learned much, more efficiently than ever, and I’d never had so much fun. Echomaru, the Eclipse survivor, was only a few years older than I. Despite the cruel prank he’d played with his kodachi my first day, we became friends, sparring with each other every day. He was a practical joker, and though I preferred training to being in on one of his games, I never ceased finding them amusing. I also befriended Daichi, one of the many friends Echomaru had. Yes, friends. The color and the feeling you are getting from me are unknown to you, I’m sorry for that, but that is how the Daybreakers work. The Nightshades are different We are more like one big family constantly growing and losing members. I’ve grieved for many since I joined 2 years ago, but I’ve never been so happy. I rose quickly, until my level was the highest (10) and I had earned the name of Darkshad amongst the Daybreakers. I learned what I wanted soon after my arrival, before I learned the real hideout of the Nightshades. I won’t tell you the location of our hidden base, but I will tell you why I hate the Daybreakers more than ever.
Their atrocities started some years, 3 or 4, before the end of the Eclipse. The Daybreakers had been getting increasingly lax in their skills, lazy in their training, and snub-nosed in their missions. They got so bad that they were forced to carry out missions at night so they wouldn’t be detected. This led to anger against the Nightshades for owning the night, making it ‘easier for them’ in the eyes of the Daybreakers. They started killing off Nightshade assassins randomly. Then a new leader was elected after bringing forth the idea of getting rid of the Eclipse ‘nuisance’ and at the same time framing the Nightshades. It took some time to work that plan out, but your leader is a genius, and the plan was executed exactly how he wanted it.
Since then the Daybreakers have dominated the assassins’ market, taking all and any jobs. From anyone as long as the price is high. Ethics? The Daybreakers chew the very concept and spit it in the mud to trample. Assassins used to have codes and rules. The Nightshades still do.
This girl’s grandfather was never arrested for treason. The truth is far simpler, a fact of human greed; a neighbor was extremely jealous of the family. This neighbor, consequently, would inherit the Kano fortune. The Daybreakers knew all this, you are responsible for your own ignorance. The government doesn’t have the funds or backing to afford many assassins. Do you still think ‘treason’ is why you kill so many people? Even the government is loath to part with yen for ‘treason’ no one remembers. The Daybreakers train mass-murderers, not assassins. The Wævres are killing for nothing but money, and they don’t only stick to specific targets... they enjoy it. Decide for yourself if you think that is right.
I broke the connection, knowing that if I went on any longer I would become dangerously emotional. Assassins must be stable on a mission, and right now my mission was to kill this young Wævre. Really, though, I wouldn’t if the boy said the right words. His fate was in his own hands, he would decide if he lived or died. I waited for him, giving him five minutes. Then I drew my kodachi and held it before him.
“Any last words?” I asked.
He lifted his head to reveal a tear-stained face and mournful eyes. I knew then what he would say. “Take care of her,” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
“You would join us,” I said softly. I knew he would refuse.
“I want — my father must know I died in battle,” he said, gulping more tears back.
For a moment I regretted forcing the knowledge and emotions on him in such a way he would have no control of himself. “Death is no grand adventure.”
“I know. That is why I deserve it.”
I nodded, and then I killed him.
The girl awoke before I could decide what to do with her. She saw my face, saw my bloody kodachi, and screamed.
“Damnit!” I swore, wiping my weapon and sheathing it in one fluid motion.
“Shut up,” I told her, walking to her. She saw her dead family and screamed some more, unable to do anything else in her state of shock. I walked closer, and saw her tense as if to jump away.
“Shut up or his companions will come for you too,” I ordered, pointing to the claw marks on all the bodies.
She stopped screaming abruptly. “Oh,” she whispered, and her unclenched her fist. A dagger fell to the floor.
“Oh,” I said, realizing that she might have killed me. I was stupid for letting my guard down.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured, putting a hand on the wound in her side. “You are the legendary Nightshade, are you going to kill me?” Her voice was steady and stern, but it didn’t fool me. She was acting rationally because she was in shock: if she came out of it I would be in trouble.
“No. Shædos must have reasons to kill.”
She got to her feet, then gazed at me, her eyes level with mine. “I understand. I listened on. Sort of.”
“Impossible,” I said briskly.
“But so is being skilled as an assassin when I was not born as one and am not short and small.”
I bristled, despite my training. Of course assassins are small, they have to be. “It’s impossible.”
“It’s not. You assassins think you’re so wonderful, but you never look anywhere else for comparison. My family were experts in the assassin arts.”
“You mean magic.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the big-eyed girl, unsure of what to do.
“Take me with you or I’ll die,” she said quietly, her eyebrows curling.
She was about to snap: I had no other choice. “Swear to me, now,” I commanded.
“I swear to you, I will be a true Shædo, I will follow the ways of the Nightshades, I will not endanger them — I swear to you, cousin Kano Jaisukeru.”
I could not tell if her words were truth or not, but right then I had to believe them. More than that, I wanted to. I picked her up, and a split second later we were gone. The Wævres would find the mess, and take care of Eriiku. I regretted killing the boy, it hurt especially after sharing a connection. I would not forget him.
Tesene passed out before we reached Nightshade headquarters, which was just as well, because I should have drugged her anyway. Without fuss her wound was treated, only then did Eclipse question me.
“She says I am her cousin,” I said tonelessly.
The reply came a moment later. “That is correct.”
I clenched my teeth. “Did you know before you sent me?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you?”
“I thought you might be the son of her aunt, but I did not know.”
“You could have found out.”
“I could have, and I am sorry. We should have been able to save more of your family.”
“My family,” I echoed. It was strange, being able to say those words and finally have them mean something. “How did she know?” I wondered aloud.
“That, you will have to ask her yourself.”
“Is she going to stay?”
“You know the answer. Do you want her to?”
“Yes. She is intelligent. And skilled.”
“Then I am sorry.”
“Why not?”
He looked me sternly in the eye, with no answer and the inability to hear any more questions. I left the room with no idea of what to do with my cousin.
“I say we keep her,” came a familiar voice on my right.
“You heard him, Echomaru.”
“I mean in secret. She’s cute.”
“She’s my cousin.”
“And the poor girl has nowhere to go, no profession to take but that of an assassin taught to her by her daring cousin... and his dashing friend, of course.”
“We can’t.”
“You never like breaking rules, do you?”
“This is too important to.” Echomaru frowned. “I know. That makes all the more reason for us to do it.”
I stopped to face him, unused to seeing him this way. “You’re serious, that’s unusual.”
“Why shouldn’t others get the chance to be assassins? We need to recruit more anyway, as the Daybreakers are still taking most of the newborns. We could use at least one tall person on the team.”
“She’s not taller, she’s the same height, and we don’t work in teams.”
“Can’t we give her a chance? Preventing her from doing this would be just like the Daybreaker way.”
“How so?”
“They don’t let anyone choose.”
I closed my eyes to think. It was a hard choice to make. There weren’t many female assassins as it was, and there had never been a normal child raised as an assassin. Most of the facts were against me, but my feelings played too much into it. I opened my eyes, and nodded. “All right.”
Echomaru grinned triumphantly. “Yes! Finally a cute girl in my squad!”
“This isn’t an army, and if you get anywhere near Tesene I’ll whip you.”
“You’ve never beat me before!”
“I will now,” I assured him, but he only laughed.
We didn’t let Daichi in on the secret, because he had problems keeping them. This was something I would regret later, but at the time it was the logical choice.
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