Dare Along the Kindled Path

[Kiriko Hanshu]

"return to the village" by Jason Scheier​

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Dark was the sky, and cold were the winds that howled across the Red valley of Songi, kicking up the white snows that had blanketed the earth.

Two straw-cloaked figures cut across a lantern-lit road, into the village of Sagwa. A wide brimmed hat made of woven reeds. One with a staff in hand, that chimed gentle with each step. Its six brass rings, divided in equal parts by an ornate finial.

Those villagers outside watched as the two strangers made their way in. The air about them gentle.

They stopped before an inn, the taller of the two openned the sliding door, and motioned the staffed one in.

"Hello!" came a warm voice from within the warm inn. The fire glow and lantern lights painted all inside in feint gold.

The two travelers but nod, and the taller one shut the door behind them.

Snow fell anew, and the winds howled the louder.

 

[Nokoribi]

Nokoribi drew her cloak close around her. Could they not just put a closed sign up and let the guests already here simply revel in their drinks? It would save them all from the chilling gusts that startled them all at every opening.

She lamented the pair that entered, with a scowl unseen from her stool at the bar. Noko flicked the ashes of her cigar and took a gulp of her rice wine as she watched the duo find a place to sit.

“Another,” she pushed the wooden cup as respectfully as she could toward the man behind the bar. Two that do not speak, at this hour, there was certainly something interesting about them. Her leg shifted as she almost stood, but stopped herself.

No, for now, she resigned herself to watching, and waiting, to see if anything interesting came of this. She thumbed her wooden sword, the cold of open doors ever her warning.

 

[Kiriko Hanshu]

"Right this way, miss, right this way," the squat frog of an inkeepr said. His eyes squint with practiced glee, and his wide winged mustache bounced with his measured bow-step-bow. He showed the pair to a secluded booth, not too far from the warmth of the cookfire that crackled gentle beneath the raised floor, and let white smoke rise up in gentle billows and curls unto the thatched roof.

The pair shift out of their hats and straw cloaks, and set aside their things. The brass rings that headed the staff chimed their sweet sound.

"Thank you," came the quite ring of a woman's voice.

"Of course," One last bow, and he made away.

The pair in the booth waited for the man to put distance between them.The big swordsman rolled his neck, let his head weigh one way, then the other, as his legs tucked in all the closer to himself, his sword slipped from where it rest upon his hip, and he let it stand beside him, as if a friend come to keep him company.

"We are still some days away from the shrines," he said in a low voice.

The woman gave a nod. "This was not lost upon me, Buru," her face a calm pool of reflection.

Buru gave a nod. "It will only get more dangerous as we approach,"

She nod.

"It may do us well to hire-"

"You do not think I will be enough?" her eyes showed her age then. Fierce as wildfire as she stared the old warrior down.

"No, I do not think I am enough, Kiriko," he closed his head and bowed to the young woman. "My Priestess of Ash, if we-"

Footsteps approached. "Tea?" the innkeeper asked as he came nearer. A pot, with steam trailing from its spout there upon a tray accompanied by two cups of old porcelain.

Buru rose up. Kiriko gave a polite bow to welcome.

 

[Nokoribi]

Noko watched the pair for a time after the amphibious innkeeper left them. He was a judge of one’s worth, she had learned after days of frequenting this inn. And they were not burnt yet to a scorch, for everyone with any head about them knew that frogs could breathe fire… if they chose. She trusted his judgment.

The Deva rose to her feet, throwing up two fingers to the barkeep, for two more wooden cups, and with them in one hand and her jug of sake in the other, she approached the pair.

“Pardon my insolence.” Noko bowed to the pair, deeply, but ever present that her horns did not dip below their own eyes. “But I have overheard,” she took a moment to gather how she would say what was next. “You have concerns about visiting the shrines in this region?” Yes?” And she wasted no moment placing the empty cups between them, and pouring from the jug of sake.

“May I sit with you?” She was standing still, looking between them both. All of her disdain and affront from the cold vanished, this one was looking for the shrines high in the cold. It was her solemn duty to help her find them. And so she stood, with her silly wooden sword hanging from her hip, awaiting their acceptance.

 

[Kiriko Hanshu]

A hard stare flit toward the woman who approached. Young and horned as she was. Kiriko's eyes found themselves falling upon the wooden sword that hung at her hip.

"You carry a blade of the whispering wood," the young woman said plainly, as she felt the traces of old curses which hung about the wood.

Buru raised his brows, and mulled over the newcomer's arrival. "Please," he said, and motioned to the table. "Sit with us,"

Kiriko's eyes flit back toward her guard's, harder for his own insolence. But before her tongue caught fire, she huffed a breath, and closed her eyes. Gave a nod. "Yes, please," she affirmed. "We were simply speaking of the dangers that we may face, as we approach the shrines further into the mountains,"

Buru scoot himself over, and adjusted his legs, as well as his tea. "Are you familiar with the Mountain Shrines of Shun Pass?"

 

[Nokoribi]

"I do." She replied to the woman's plain words. Without thinking she rested her palm on the butt of the hilt, her fingers splayed and open and not in threat, but protecting her precious blade nonetheless. These two, by the woman's words and the man's mulling, were no strangers to hardship. And as kindred souls Noko bowed to their invitation, as the big one shifted to make way. She sat on a pillow at their table, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned forward.

"I am familiar with the Shun Pass," she answered. "Though the shrine itself is one I have meant to visit for some time, I wish to pray there. My... father... told me stories of its beauty, both in sight and in spirit. I wish to see it, for him." Though loss shone on her eyes she left it at that, a small squint to hide her pain and steel her resolve. "But I will say that the dangers are many, people get lost there, consumed by the cold, buried beneath avalanches, it is a treacherous passing. Perhaps that is why we put a shrine at the very top? To proclaim to the gods that we were there?" She sipped her sake as the pair sipped their tea. To sit on those snow-banked cliffs with the clouds like a gentle blanket beneath, she had only imagined such a place in her dreams.

Noko looked stern again, awakened from her daydreaming. "If you truly wish to go there. I want to go with you." The Deva said plainly, with no mention of hiring or compensation. No. This was for her, not them, but she would see them to this place with her.

 

[Kiriko Hanshu]

A moment of stillness descended upon the gathered three. The young Deva's words hung in the air, much like the steam that curled up from the pot of tea.

"Then you will go with us," the priestess spoke with finality.

Buru nod his approval, and the hints of a smile pulled across his wide and whiskered face. All the while the warm sounds of the inn around them came to ear. The crackle of the cook-fire. The beat of the fan which stoked the flames. The sizzle of thinly cut meats, mushrooms, and roots roasting over the coals that smelled of sweet cherry wood.

Kiriko took up one of the cups the young woman had brought with her, and drew it closer to herself. Picked up the teapot, and poured the clear golden colored drink into its new vessel. Steam, all the while, billowed and curled about them.

"What is your name, wielder of the whispering wood?" the pour of tea came to stop, and Kiriko offered the cup to the stranger who had sat at their table.

 

[Nokoribi]

“My name,” she drew in a breath. “Is Nokoribi.” With those words she straightened her back and rested her hands on her knees as if she dared have the pride of the Aetochi clans. “And it would be my honor to see you to you to your shrine, as your sword.” She swallowed and looked away, “as wooden as it may be.”

Noko felt a wailing against her thigh from the blade, silent, yet deafening all the same.. She had grown used to such protests by now. And in her current company she sought only to stifle her blade’s reply. “May we have another round of tea?” She grinned toward Buru before eyeing the kettle. “And set out in the morning after a night well rested? The pass will be an absolute bastard this time of year, so we will want a hearty breakfast in the morning. And if you’ve need of lodging, it is on me, I am on the owner’s tab.” She laughed. There was not a world in which she paid that.

 

[Kiriko Hanshu]

A nod. Easy and calm. Given by the priestess.

Buru, the swordsman across the table, nod the more eager. "Another round of tea, oft helps one learn the secrets of their company's hearts,"

Kiriko looked to the large swordsman. Her trusted bodyguard and attendant. "We will leave in the morning," she assured. Eyes back to this, Nokoribi. "I am Kiriko, Priestess of the Ash Clan," she bowed her head to the wanderer. Motioned toward Buru. "This is Buru, my attendant,"

Buru wore his wisened smile. His eyes, crescent moons that twinkled with a kind curiosity. "Well met, Nokoribi," he grumbled in his low rumble of a voice.

Kiriko poured Buru a cup next, and placed it before him. "Do you make it a habit to help strangers, Nokoribi?" the priestess asked. Her long pale fingers, pressed against the cool sides of the ceramic vessel. "With that sword of yours?" a steady stream of tea was poured into the third cup. Her own cup.

 

[Nokoribi]

Noko could but only nod in agreement. A table that shares tea together should harbor no secrets. She blew on the top of her cup as Kiriko introduced the large man sitting aside her. Buru. He was her bodyguard. She looked him up and down, taking measure of him. He knew. And she knew he knew. And that was simply the way of these things.

She returned to Kiriko, sipping her tea softly, daintily even. Though it still steamed, the heat did not bother her, but she kept up appearances. ‘Do you make it a habit to help strangers, Nokoribi?’ She let her cup fall from her lips. It was in the way she asked. As if it cut her to the very core. But she would swallow, straighten her back and answer. “Yes. Yes I do. My father was the vagrant blade of these lands, but he is gone now, and yet there is still a need for a blade.” She realized then what Kiriko likely meant by ‘that sword of yours.’

She reached down, touching its hilt, that Buru would raise an eyebrow was not lost on her. The wood thrummed through her mind, touching her heart. “I admit, priestess, that it is not the most conventional of implements. But that I still breathe is proof that it serves me well.” She left it at that and returned to her tea. If this woman was truly a priestess she would have likely felt the shiver of essence from the ‘blade’ as it was touched as well.

Nokoribi smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “My father refused me a real blade, one of steel, until he deemed me ready. And so I will not touch one until I am ready.” She explained simply. “So, why this shrine in particular if I may ask?” Noko crossed her legs and pulled a mini cigar from a case, “mind?”

 

[Kiriko Hanshu]

Buru blew a breath across his cup. Taking in the young blade's tale. "Your father showed wisdom, then," the older swordsman allowed. Kindness and understanding there in his voice.

Kiriko went on wearing her placid mask. Until the rolled up smoke was pulled out. Her eyebrow twitched, and her mouth screwed tight. "Yes," she said short as an arrow head. "That one would burn a thing with such a strong and odorous-"

A look from Buru saw a string of insults and curses kept behind clenched teeth. A quick puff of breath, and a snatch up of the tea cup saw the young priestess nursing herself with the aromas of the brew.

A laugh came from the old swordsman. "You'll have to excuse my lady, she has a very sensitive sense of smell,"

Kirko blew another breath across her tea. "We go to the shrine to renew its lunar blessings, restoring its link to the land, and assuring that the Raakguii it honors know that we mortals have not forgotten its blessings, nor its curses," she drank from the tea.

 

[Nokoribi]

Asking to smoke had been but a formality, and one which Noko would have taken severe offense in being denied. Would have. But this was a priestess, of the very same spirits her own father worshipped. She tucked the rolled tobacco back into its case and hid it away within her robes with the smallest of bows.

"A noble purpose," she nodded to Buru, before turning to Kiriko, "and one I am honored to be a part of." She bowed deeper this time, with reverence. The sword at her hip thrummed as she spoke, as if it were wanting, yearning. And it became something she could no longer just ignore. "If I may be excused, I would like to prepare. The mountains at this time of year are treacherous. I am staying at the inn just above this bar, so we will meet here to set out?"

With that she rose with a deep bow, her hand on the hilt of her sword, stilling it to calm its restlessness.

 

[Kiriko Hanshu]

Kiriko watched as the stranger, Nokoribi, walked away without another word. Her cup of tea still steaming upon the table.

Buru closed his eyes, and but sipped from his own cup.

"That one will bring us nothing but ill will," she said sharply to her guard whence the woman was gone.

Buru put the teacup he drank from unto the table. "A darkness hides within her, it is true,"

Kiriko looked unto the tea still within her cup. At the bits of leaf that gathered there at the bottom of the porcelain cup. The whole shop about them stirred with life. Laughs and words shared over meals and tea. Nokoribi's cup, there upon the table. Hardly touched. "But it is my duty as a priestess to cleanse such evils from the land, is it not, Buru?"

The old swordsman clicked his teeth. "The sword she carries, you mean?"

"And the wielder, should the whisper's roots dig into her soul,"

A slow nod. "Or we keep her with us, to make sure,"

"Make sure?"

"That she is not beyond saving, my Priestess,"