Chapter 98

As the village burned, Sasaki and Kuroyuki explored the mine, which was surprisingly straightforward and also deserted, except for a handful of squeaking rats that ran from them as they passed. There were a couple of mine carts composed of rotting wood, but no indication that Sasaki could tell as to what was being mined. Such a thing had never been a point of interest for her, so she simply let it go.

The fire in the village had spread when they exited the mine; the pine forest was roaring with the intensity of the blaze, and the air was thick with smoke, sharp and acrid. Ash and embers swirled like snow. Sasaki and Kuroyuki exchanged glances; the fire was beyond any sort of attempt at containment, and it stood as a barrier between them and their horses.

With streaming eyes and burning throats they retreated back inside the mine. The air itself became thin as the fire rapidly consumed the air, but Sasaki and Kuroyuki were from a collection of mountainous islands and were used to rarified air. Still, their chests ached and their eyes stung and their senses overwhelmed with the smell of burning pine, the taste of ash, the grit of it in their eyes.

"I’m guessing our horses didn’t make it." Sasaki remarked wryly as she peeked out at the raging inferno.

The larger pine trees simply roared like an inferno; the smaller pines, struggling for a foothold in the forest, simply exploded in the heat, the superheated sap splashing in syrupy jets of fire.

"They’re not likely to, no." Kuroyuki agreed. "I tied them to that tree trunk we climbed over on the way into the village. It seems I have doomed us." Kuroyuki added apologetically.

"It’s only a few days’ walk back to Aston from here." Sasaki replied. "We’ll be hungry, but we’ll make it." She paused, "If the forest fire doesn’t kill us, first."

Kuroyuki stepped out of the mine a short ways, delicately covering her nose and mouth with the sleeve of her kimono. She looked east, then west, and then eyed the sky, and retreated back to the mine and gasped for breath.

"The village is gone of course, but there’s nothing left there to burn." She reported. "The fire’s spreading quickly, but because it’s burning so hot, all the things that can be burned will be consumed fairly quickly. Mother, it’s possible we can survive and escape this, but only if we move quickly."

"The smoke, Kuro." Sasaki pointed out: "We’ll choke to death long before we reach the road to Aston."

Kuro produced a handkerchief from her sleeve, and suddenly, Sasaki understood: They could wet down the handkerchiefs with water from Sasaki’s canteen, rush down the slope from the mine, through the village, and to the road. It wouldn’t be easy, but as Kuro pointed out, it wouldn’t be impossible, either.

Concentrate on the path from the mine to the village, she reminded herself. It was roughly a quarter-mile trip, and at least it was downhill in this direction. Head south, then west to the village proper, and then south through the village to the road that ran east-west from Higgenfal to Aston. Easy. All she had to do was hold her breath for as long as possible, and breathe as little as possible, while moving as quickly as possible. Easy. Katarina would have laughed at Sasaki’s sarcasm, but agreed.

"All right. Let’s go." Sasaki affirmed, and took Kuroyuki’s hand.

The air was thick with acrid smoke that stung the eyes, everything was wrapped in a thick white haze. Smoldering trees appeared from out of the gloom dripping embers from smoking branches, charred and fallen branches threatened to upset them at every step. Sasaki froze at one point, her sense of direction completely lost, but Kuroyuki stepped up beside her, eyed bloodshot, and pointed. Sasaki nodded, and they set off again, dodging lingering fires, brushing embers from their clothes, and struggling to breathe through the handkerchiefs, which seemed to work less with each passing moment.

Their lungs strained and heaved and burned, sweat gushed from every pore, their eyes constantly streamed tears, nearly blinding them as they half-stumbled, half ran through the smoke and cinders.

Sasaki stopped to wet her handkerchief, completely blind in the thick smoke, when she felt something cold splash against her hand. She glanced at it, stupidly thinking that somehow the canteen was leaking through her hand, when she felt another drop of water hit her head and trickle down her neck, followed by another, and then another.

"It’s raining." Kuroyuki observed, her voice muffled through her handkerchief.

Sasaki rolled her stinging eyes. If they’d waited a bit longer in the mine, the rainstorm would have cleared away most of the smoke and at least dampened the ground, maybe even put out some of the remaining fires, as well. She recalled the torrential downpours the last time she was in this particular area, and it occurred to her that it was around this exact time a year prior that she met Katarina. Apparently, the rainy season had come. Sasaki breathed a sigh of relief, and then broke off into a coughing fit that left her choking.

As the rain steadily increased, the smoke and ash dispersed slowly, which allowed them to head down the hill to the village, though the ground became slippery mud and footing became treacherous. By the time they reached the village proper, their clothing was sodden and their feet were caked in cold, sooty mud.

Exiting the village, they found that the fire had missed their horses completely, but they were panting heavily from smoke inhalation, exhaustion, and dehydration. Sasaki and Kuroyuki helped them climb over the tree, gave them what water they could from their depleting reserves, and began the long walk back to Aston and civilization.

In Aston they learned that their horses were practically dead on their feet, and had to be put down. Kuroyuki was interested in watching the process, but Sasaki was frustrated and kicking herself with disappointment. Katarina wouldn’t have done something so stupid. Katarina had wintered in the wilds with no help from anyone, and managed to not only keep herself alive, but also her horse. And she was able to track a runaway mage on top of that feat.

Katarina was too perfect; Sasaki too prone to making mistakes, costly mistakes. Literally, the horses had cost her a good amount of money, and all she had to show for it were a couple of half-dead horses and some perfectly fine travelling silks that were completely ruined with ash, cinder scorches, and at least a gallon of mud.

"Tell me it gets better, please." She complained to herself as she used the last of her coin to check into the inn. The innkeeper and the patrons whiling away their time in the common room gave them curious stares, but said nothing as she took Kuroyuki to the baths, stripped down, and washed herself.

"There’s got to be a way, something I can do so that I don’t have to dress like an Anglish." Sasaki complained more to herself than anyone else, but Kuroyuki took up the thread of the conversation.

"In what way?"

Sasaki pointed out the heap of crusted mud that reeked of smoke and cinder scorches that was their clothing.

"I don’t want to wear Anglish clothing. Have you seen what they wear?" She asked Kuroyuki. "Have you seen it? It’s hideous. So plain and ..." She shook her head.

"True, the dress of the Anglish I’ve seen would not suit you, mother." Kuroyuki agreed. "It lacks the elegance and freedom of movement that you require as a warrior."

"No shit." Sasaki agreed, eyeing her arms. Was there still soot on them, even after a third scrubbing, or was she perhaps seeing things?

"It should be no small feat to replace our clothing, mother." Kuroyuki offered, and Sasaki swung a hot gaze at her.

"How? You might not be aware of this, but we’re in something of a financial pinch." Sasaki argued.

"Forgive my impertinence, mother. I was thinking that perhaps we might try speaking with the Yamato guards- their clothing seems to be made from Anglish fabrics, but cut in the Yamato style."

Sasaki grimaced. It was impossible to argue with Kuroyuki. She was the quintessential perfect Yamato daughter; polite and deferential, and unfailingly incapable of responding to friction. At least Sasaki could argue with Katarina. They could verbally spar all day and never think less of each other for it.

Of course what aggravated her was that it was a perfectly serviceable idea. They might even have some form of shoe or boot that wasn’t the stereotypical heavy and ugly Anglish boots.

She let out a long sigh. "It’s a good idea, Kuroyuki." She finally agreed.

After washing, they re-dressed, and retired to their room, where Sasaki and Kuroyuki immediately removed their clothing and set to brushing and cleaning the silks as best as they could, after which Sasaki immediately climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

Kuroyuki eyed her mother’s form for some time. The woman was tempestuous, quick to action, quick to argue, quick to fight, quick to speak without regards to the consequences.

Kuroyuki wanted to go down to the common room and observe the Anglish, but she sensed that it might upset Sasaki in some indefinable way; so instead she repaired the damages to her kimono. No matter what land or what circumstances she found herself in, she wouldn’t dishonor her mother by wearing filthy clothing.

She eyed Sasaki’s garb. Hers was different from Kuroyuki’s formal kimono: She wore a duelist’s yukata with the hakama pants of a warrior, as befit Sasaki’s style.

If Kuroyuki cleaned and repaired her mother’s garments in the same way as she had her own, would Sasaki abandon the idea of seeking more robust clothing? Would she simply thank Kuroyuki and then assume that since the clothes were cleaned and restored, that they did not need to appropriate better? Would it be inappropriate to leave her mother’s gear untended? Kuroyuki’s own kimono was a deep, lustrous black that looked freshly made, perfectly cleaned and ready to be put on; a result of her abilities.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Kuroyuki. Sasaki was sleeping. A dutiful daughter would take care of all the necessary preparations herself. If she was lucky she could get Sasaki an appropriate set of replacement gear before Sasaki even woke up. She rose to her feet, and slipped out of the room and headed downstairs to the common room to ask for directions.

Aston was technically and officially owned and operated by the Anglish Church; however its primary purpose ws a port for the Yamato, and so the Yamato had a very strong controlling interest in the affairs of the city. Kuroyuki moved through the crowds of people, listening, touching, paying attention, learning. The whole city was a smorgasbord of experience and Kuroyuki reveled in it, drinking in the slightest detail. The different sights and smells, the snatched bit of conversations here and there, shopkeepers shouting wares, children running and chasing each other, sometimes stopping to scoop handfuls of mud and flinging them at each other. The rough voices of the laborers, the catcalls of whores, the curses of dockworkers, the gasping, muffled cries as someone bled their life out in a cramped alley, unremarked and alone, stripped naked of his belongings and possessions.

Different languages, different lives, different attitudes and emotions and expressions and gestures; Kuroyuki absorbed them all.

A few pointed but polite questions led her to the garrison of Yamato soldiers that patrolled the city; specifically and mostly the docks region and the markets there, because that was the area they were most concerned with.

Yamato was a collection of volcanic islands and atolls; the land was minerally poor and the Yamato were starved for all sorts of resources previously unavailable on their lands. In return for a massive trade buyout, the Yamato gave the Anglish something they’d forgotten: the secret to forging steel. Strange, that an empire could forget the forging of steel, but it had happened. Still, steel was rare, valuable, and precious as a commodity. Red Steel was poor quality, easy to break and rust, something the Yamato would perhaps use for cookpans, (or return to the forge) while properly forged steel was known as "true" steel.

Kuroyuki explained the situation to a Yamato guard, and after he ran an appraising eye over her immaculate kimono, and noted the poise and gravitas she exuded, he concluded she was a noblewoman of no small influence. He was just short of obsequious, but he helpfully acknowledged that the more robust cottons would likely suit Sasaki a lot better than attempting to adventure in brushed silks. He also offered stitched leather wrappings for feet and legs and arms, which she accepted with alacrity and grace. Hopefully her mother would forgive the expenditure of money.

"By the way, my lady, forgive me, but I did not catch your name." He remarked as he carefully bundled the clothing and armor into a waterproofed leather pack for her.

"Forgive my hastiness." Kuroyuki replied, stalling for time. Kuroyuki flicked through the possibilities. If she revealed she was born from a woman exiled, he might treat her differently. He could suddenly demand an increase in price. His reaction could even become hostile, or even violent. If she fabricated a house name, it was possible he might recognize it as false, and again be suspicious, which might cause problems for her mother later. There was the possibility she might use the name her mother had cast off; there was likely little chance of the name reaching her mother or her family across the ocean.

"My name is Kojirou. Kojirou Kuroyuki." She finally replied, and he bowed formally.

"Truly well met." He remarked gravely. "A cousin of mine works for the Kojirou clan." Kuroyuki nearly bit her tongue with frustration. She’d apparently stepped into a pit of vipers without expecting it.

"It’s truly an honor for me to have the opportunity to offer service to the family that has taken such great care of my cousin." He offered gratefully, and passed back a portion of the coin Kuroyuki had given him earlier.

"I only took the amount charged by the barracks, Lady Kojirou. It would shame me to charge you the amount I intended. Please forgive my inexcusable impropriety." Kuroyuki bowed back and accepted the surplus of coin.

"Lady Kojirou, I have a question for you," He paused; and changed his mind. "A request, really."

Kuroyuki inclined her head. "Indeed. Please, share your worries with me." She encouraged.

"A young woman appeared in town; she resembles Yamato nobility, but her skin tone is most unusual. We’ve been trying to speak with her, but she does not seem to be capable of speech. She..." He paused, and moved his hands, "seems to communicate with her hands in some fashion. It’s a bit of a reach, but perhaps you could..?" he trailed off.

"I will try." She decided on the spur of the moment. "I cannot promise anything, however."

The guardsman bowed again, and offered to lead her to the woman in question, which Kuroyuki gratefully accepted.

The girl certainly was a beauty, Kuroyuki decided the moment she laid eyes on her. Her skin was the color of jet, her eyes an arresting purple, her hair a shimmering white. What looked to be golden paint covered her face and arms in curlicues and symbols.

Kuroyuki addressed the woman in Yamato; the woman stared at her. Kuroyuki switched to Anglish, and finally tried to speak the bits of Lyonesse she’d heard earlier in the day. The woman didn’t seem to recognize or respond to any of them.

Kuroyuki frowned delicately. How could she communicate with someone who couldn’t speak?

The woman raised her arms, and made a series of flowing gestures, fingers writhing like snakes. Something lurched in Kuroyuki’s heart. Across the city, the gem Sasaki wore around her neck flashed.

Kuroyuki held her hand up, fingers together, palm towards the young woman. She didn’t understand why she should do it, it came to her as a reflex, or perhaps instinct.

The woman’s eyes flicked to Kuroyuki’s hand, and then to her face; Kuroyuki’s golden eyes glowed with expectation and an as-yet inexplicable sense of excitement.

The woman pressed her hand against Kuroyuki’s, palm to palm, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. Kuroyuki’s eyes glowed brighter; her heart lurched in her chest, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widened in surprise, shock, and sudden, dawning comprehension.

"I understand so much more, now." she whispered.

She gestured at the other woman, fingers flashing in an unspoken language that had not been used since before what the Yamato and the Anglish both referred to as both the Long Cold Night and the Terror of the Void.

The woman’s eyes softened in gratitude, and removing her hand from Kuroyuki’s own, began to explain her predicament. Kuroyuki absorbed it all, asking the young woman with hand signs several specific and pointed questions for clarification.

After her questions had been answered to her satisfaction, Kuroyuki carefully knelt on the cell’s floor, and placed her hands on the stone.

Ah. The Bann Sidhe was not wrong. What she wanted was nearby, but it was damaged, broken.

She rose to her feet. Well, broken things could be repaired.

She turned to the guard that hovered just outside of the woman’s cell.

"You were correct in bringing me to her." Kuroyuki announced, and the guard sighed with relief.

"You could communicate with her? I saw you moving your hands like her. Is- was it wrong-" He paused, and clearly wrestling with himself, asked a question that normally would never be asked. "Have we dishonored ourselves by imprisoning her?"

Kuroyuki shook her head. "Not at all. As I said, you’ve done well. She is no harm and poses no threat to anyone. I’d like to request a favor; would it be possible to release her into my custody?" She asked curiously. "It seems she was born without the ability to speak, and it will make her ability to deal with others difficult. I will take on the responsibility of communicator for her needs."

He rubbed his chin. "She hasn’t broken any rules or laws." He admitted. "Her appearance stands out, which brought her to our attention." After a moment’s thought, he shrugged. "I see no reason to oppose you. I’ll provide you a cloak for her, so she stands out less."

Kuroyuki nodded, and as he left, she relayed her plan to the smaller woman, who nodded vigorously.

Kuroyuki and her companion slipped out of Aston without incident of observation, and into the ancient ruins just outside of the city. The woman had no name that Kuroyuki could speak aloud; the woman’s language was spoken entirely with hand signs and gestures. The two carried on an animated conversation of basic pleasantries; neither woman wanted to delve too deeply into each other’s origins.

Still, the woman had let things slip she probably should have kept to herself; she’d awoken from a sleep that had been intended to last only a short while her race worked to reactivate a tool used by the race that had come before her own, the Seelie.

The relic had been co-opted while she slept; an Urthan mage seeking to utilize its capabilities to extend his own lifespan had instead perverted it; the device was now damaged in some way, broken.

Kuroyuki examined the chamber of standing crystals and pillars. Something indeed had destroyed the functionality of the place. Several crystals were blackened and shattered. Kuroyuki lifted one of the crystals and eyed it critically. The intact crystals were warped by the Urthan Mages’ influence.

Kuroyuki gestured, and a design,a schematic of light drew itself out of the air. She communicated to the other woman the current effect that the crystals would produce, and requested to know if it was supposed to behave differently. The woman took a breath, and concentrating, drew a similar schematic of the crystal in the air with a slightly different fractal shape.

Kuroyuki nodded, and reached out to the pulse of ancient magic that flowed deep beneath the earth, returned the crystal to its original configuration. She offered the crystal to the woman who gasped audibly,and unexpectedly embraced Kuroyuki in a fierce hug, and then, shocked, she stepped back from the visibly shaken Yamato, who was not used to such overt displays of gratitude and affection.

Kuroyuki gestured at the other crystals, and then at the one she repaired, and then signed a question in the air. The woman nodded, and once again Kuroyuki worked to correct the folly of a mage that should have died two hundred years ago.

Fixing the warped crystals was no small effort in and of itself, but Kuroyuki could not conceive of a power that would cause a crystal to melt, boil, and char in the way that it had. There was no explanation available to her that would cause such a behavior.

There was no way she could rebuild those crystals. They were destroyed in a way that was so fundamentally alien to her she couldn’t apprehend how it could have happened.

However, she had the blueprint for the correct crystals in her mind and power at her fingertips. She used dust, the pulverized stone that had sifted through the cracks, and using magic, compressed and rearranged it, added to it, until an identical crystal stood, balanced upon her palm. The woman gaped at her in astonishment, and Kuroyuki asked how many more were necessary.

After Kuroyuki replicated the other crystals, the Bann Sidhe arranged the crystals to her satisfaction, and wove her magic. Arcane energy spilled forth in electric hues of blue and pink, roiling in strange parodies of fire.

Arcane fire wasn’t like regular fire, or even elemental fire. Arcana held shut the barriers of reality, the fabric of power that divided this world from the thread of other possibilities. Anything touching arcane fire would be consumed beyond ash, beyond dust.

The gateway widened with a scream that could only be heard by things sensitive to such things; the Bann Sidhe stepped through the tear in the fabric of reality without the slightest hesitation, at which point the thing collapsed in upon itself, the spell creating a backblast that pulverized the crystals beyond reconstruction.

After a full minute, Kuroyuki allowed herself to breathe. Such a thing she witnessed was considered a myth a thousand years ago.

She took a long, slow walk about the chamber’s perimeter as she considered what she had seen, done, and witnessed. An old song, an old story that nobody remembered spoke of the Seelie, a race that had explored and and discovered the world, its continents and its magics, and then using a similar gateway, abandoned the world that birthed them to realms unknown, leaving behind their cousins, the Sidhe.

The Sidhe were not as skilled or as proficient with the magics their predecessors wielded, and so again, after having explored, fought, conquered, experimented, philosophised, and examined the world to their satisfaction, they used devices like Kuroyuki had just witnessed to travel between the threads of possibility to other worlds, other horizons, in an effort to reach new heights of knowledge, wisdom, and power, ever chasing after their ancestors.

Those left behind were the primogenitors of the races that were born and lived today. They were the ones to face the terror of the Long Cold Night and the hideous, yawning gulfs of the Void of Oblivion.

Why had she been left behind? Why hadn’t the Sentinel been awakened? Her head came up at that. Sentinel? What Sentinel? What was a sentinel, anyway? It seemed that despite answers to her questions, a thousand more reared their heads, and a thousand more chased each of those.

She turned to leave the empty chamber, and suddenly staggered, the room whirling madly about her. Something was wrong. Something had gone terribly, horribly wrong. She collapsed at the doorway to the room, wracked with convulsions. Her head whipped back and forth; it felt like her blood had been set aflame, no, replaced with acid, corrosive and searing her nerves, eating into her flesh. Her stomach cramped painfully, it felt as though great teeth were trying to chew their way out from her innards.

She tried to draw breath, but the muscles of her chest locked tight and she couldn’t breathe. Mad words whispered foul promises in her ears and finally she did scream, loud, piercing shrieks as her hands, normally clean and immaculate, scraped and scratched and dug at the stone flooring, snapping and tearing fingernails, tearing flesh.