The clouds were moving East.
Kith-sei Ra narrowed his eyes and looked as far as he could into the scene laid out below him. There were some peasants walking across the rice paddies below, and beyond that a field, a small creek, and further on another field. Then a line of trees, and a thin line of smoke rising up from behind them. That was where they were camped, no doubt. The clear wind swept across the blue, opaque sky and the scent of autumn was in the air. It would make better weather to fight in, anyway—he thought to himself sardonically.
He patted his horse’s neck and grimaced at the sudden pain in his arm. Beneath the hemp cloth of his sleeve he could feel the sweat mingling with his wound. He had already spent some time in the morning trying to heal it, and it had worked a little but not improved it. It was as if a poison had entered his blood, and now it had gone too far into his body to draw out. It had been five days now.
“Let’s go back,” he said to his horse. “I must talk to Mayu-kira.”
He swung her around and galloped down the hill back towards camp. Below, the men were lounging in front of their tents, smoking pipes and playing dice. They noticed him as he passed but only a few stood up to bow. No matter, he would not let it get to him. In any case, they must have been shaken after the other day’s battle. It had been a victory in any sense of the word, but far more were killed or wounded than should have been. He flew by the soldiers, not wanting to meet their eyes.
At his tent he left his horse to a soldier and entered to see Mayu-kira standing by the lamp.
“Prince,” the old man said with a slow bow. Mayu-kira was never one to fawn. He always gave the impression he did not try too hard at anything, but Ra knew it was only a facade.
“Mayu, I must talk.”
“I thought that might be the case.”
Ra sat on his mat, removing his sword and laying it on the swordrest. He undid the strings on his sleeve, loosening the strain on his arm. A cold sweat was starting to form on his brow.
“The arm still bothers you, Prince?”
Mayu-kira had a way of saying the word “Prince” as if in jest. Perhaps to show that he did not really believe in the idea of royalty. It would have bothered most but Ra did not care. He despised the title as well.
“They do not like me, Mayu—the soldiers. They think I am a foreigner.”
“It is true your mother is of foreign birth, but your father is of Taran, and you have every right to the throne. You are every bit a Taranian as any of them. You are their prince—they follow you loyally.”
“If you say so. But I hear that they call me a foreigner.”
“Do not think so much,
Prince,” said Mayu-kira in his soothing voice. “There are greater matters at
hand. Lord Guar is well on his way to Ko-Karam. If we do not pursue him—if we
do not leave this very minute, in fact—he will be long gone.”
“I know, I saw his encampment. Maybe two,
three li. I do not care.”
“Your father has commanded you to drive him east.”
Ra sighed and did not answer. A servant brought him hot tea and he took the cup in his hands.
“Ah, well,” said Mayu-kira as if he did not care either. “Another would replace him anyway. There is war all around.”
“This wound--it has been five days now. The pain does not go away. I know it would hurt more if I did not spend each morning healing it.”
“Very unusual,” said Mayu-kira, as if he did not care so much. “So let me see it.” Ra rolled up his sleeve and revealed the wound. It was a gash that ran across the inside of his forearm. The color was a pale brown mixed with dashes of maroon, and the skin itself was welted.
Mayu-kira furrowed his heavy eyebrows and ran his hand down it. “Sara-kri must see this.”
“The Sage of Bar-kar?” Ra was incredulous. “I do not want to go through all the formalities of seeing her. They say it takes weeks. Also, I do not want to waste her time. This is nothing, it will heal in a week. I should be able to heal it, in any case” he said in frustration. He put his right arm to the wound and applied his energy to it, but now it felt more useless than ever.
“There is a power that is blocking your Ii. It is no use trying to heal it unless you remove this element. The sword that cut you must have been tampered with. Let me see your armor.” He moved swiftly over to Ra’s suit, which was hung on the wall, and ran his hand down the breast. “See, rust.” He rubbed his fingers together and a soft powder trickled to the floor. “I will keep a sample of this in a glass and find out what it is. But it is clear that it was no ordinary sword.”
“Well, I don’t care anymore. I am tired.” Ra threw his cloak off and lay down on the straw mat.
“Prince, you make hawks out of sparrows. This can be solved, and it will be solved with Sara-kri’s help. Meanwhile, do not worry so much about Guar. He is already on the run and if the army moves after him he will flee East on his own. I am sure one of your generals can lead the army and then reconnect with Lord Kei. Your health is most important. But do not be too worried . . I have had injuries much worse than this. When I was an accountant for a merchant ship in the South seas, an anchor fell on my little toe, and it did not heal for months. It became infected with that godforsaken humid weather down there, and after the pain stopped, the itching began. I tell you, it was horrible. I wanted to kill myself.”
Ra smiled. He was always amused by Mayu-kira’s old tales of travel to different parts of the world. Sometimes he could not believe the number of different jobs he had had before become a cleric for his father. The man could have written five books. But then again, he would never have thought to do so.
“Well, then, Mayu, we will not follow Guar today. I think you are right that I must see Sara-kri. We will encamp here again today and tomorrow General Kwai will lead them.”
“Yes, Prince,” said Mayu-kira,.
That night Ra lay in anguish. The pain in his left arm grew every hour, as if the poisonous element within his body grew more confident with each weakened breath he took. His arm felt as if it weighed as much as a slab of stone, and the sweat continued to pour out of his brow and trickle through his hair. But he knew he had to get through this night. There was no choice but to go and see the Sage now, he knew. He had never wanted to see her, to waste her time like this and show his weakness.
Eventually sleep took him. It came suddenly and with a jarring shift in his senses, as if he had been physically shoved from reality into a dreamlike state. He could see his room around him, the same four walls of the tent and the shadow of his armor. But it was if the light had been completed sucked out of the space around him, and he suddenly knew that there was some spirit present. His arm was now shackled to the floor, and he could see the straps, leather and tightened against his skin has his blood pumped furiously in his veins. The wound raged and swirled, and an eye appeared in the middle, to his horror.
He heard a voice howl through the space above him, but it said nothing. Just a sound that was mixed with low and high screams, pushing his head back even as he tried to rise. A sudden rage filled him.
“Who is this?” he tried to shout. But his mouth would not open. If he could wake up, then he could find the spirit and destroy it. “Whoever you are, I will destroy you.”
Suddenly, as quickly as it had started, the howling stopped, and the strain on his arm was released. He could still not wake up, but the spirit seemed to have disappeared. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he could see the streams of light on the tent walls and a relief filled as quickly as a water filling a cup, even as his heart beat wildly inside him.
