Bubbles

Bubbles are a girl's best friend. Smudges prefers this way, I prefer mine bottled and French.

Either way there is fun to be had.

Stickwork

An amazimg scuplture at Federation Square, Melbourne.

Stickwork by Patrick Dougherty

Flight of the Warrior Chapter 14 - The last adventure

The old lady lived in the castle complex of Tsurugajo near the port. It was her duty to go down to the shore well before sunrise to give the fishermen her predictions.

It was common for the area to be cloaked in a blanket of snow this time of year and this morning was no different. She woke and covered her aging joints in layers before climbing slowly up the staircase of the west tower. From here she could listen and feel the coming of the day's weather. She also received other messages that were unrelated to weather but she kept those to herself. They were meant for her. They were private.

She had been excited for some days prior as she expected the arrival of a red headed girl. This girl would want to speak with her, perhaps learn her skills. The thought of a visitor, one she could talk to about the old ways lifted her spirits. In fact, for a while there she had thought about picking up her swords and running through some basic motions. But she was in her seventies and the bones were more fragile than she hoped, the muscles hung loosely on her frame and she limped badly from an old injury. Adventure seemed a thing of the past.

This morning she was anxious. Arriving at the top of the tower staircase she took a moment to catch her breath before opening the crude door. She could feel bad news before she went outside, it seemed to be seeping through every small opening in the door frame.

Being centred and alert was important. The wind would deliver much to her particularly in the first few moments atop the turret. She had to be ready and focus on what she needed. It was very much, she imagined, like a mother who walks into a room full of her children, all yelling at her, pulling at her kimono, demanding that she listen to them and not their brother or sister. Except she had no children of her own.
Once she reached the centre of the small turret, the wind whirling around her head, she closed her eyes to draw her concentration to the fore. Opening her eyes they glowed red and she could see the messengers cloaked in smoke racing through the air, some black menacing and wild, others white and joyous. She waited for a moment till she saw it, and opened her arms inviting. Several messengers trailing black smoke made vain attempts to crash into her but she was too quick and she slapped them away with a carefully placed movement of her hand. They held what she did not care to hear, the threat of war, the coming of the Mongols. There would be time to know the details before the invasion. A moment later she welcomed the messenger she was looking for, grey smoke passing through her body.

She retreated inside. The girl was not coming, she was fleeing the man who had attacked her. She was stuck in a place and trying to call a stranger to help her. And the worst news, Nakano was trying to find her, and he had picked up her trail of jasmine on the wind.

She sat on the first step trying to make sense of it all. This was bad indeed. She had only been able to do so much to keep Nakano away from the girl. She had convinced him in a dream that he needed to go South to pick up the fees he was owed. That if he didn't war would come and he may never see the money. He must strengthen his ties to the nobility of the South, too much time had passed since his last visit. He had taken too many women, there had been too much pleasure and not enough work. He would pay for this. The God of War would not be happy.

There was little she knew she could do to stop him once he was hunting the girl. His passion once flamed would not dim till he found her.

But the girl was not ready, not prepared. She was a warrior yes, and she had some natural talents. Like all warrior women she was proud and strong, but she lacked knowledge that would unlock her skills. That is where Tomoe would come in, she would be the girl's teacher. The girl must not perish, there were too little of her kind around anymore. So few were born with the gift.

So perhaps she would have to go to the girl. As old and frail as she was, she would need to travel, and  to teach the girl in less time than she would probably need. The question was how was she going to get to her before Nakano did? Perhaps she should break her silence and send the girl a message to warn her somehow.

The daimyo would never let her leave for an extended period because of the warnings she provided the fishermen were important to the livelihood of all the villagers. But it was not uncommon for her to go out on the boats from time to time. She would use this as her way to escape. She would ask a local fisherman, a trusted member of her family to take her to the island of Sadogashima where she would have the girl meet her. It was further north for her, but according to the messages she had received was west of the girls location, away from Nakano who was coming from the east. No time to waste.

Getting up as quickly as her tired body would let her, she returned to the turret. Standing in the centre again she drew her concentration inward. Her eyes blazed red, and a mist fell around her. She raised her hands to the sky and the mist turned to rainclouds, the wind increasing in speed her garments billowing around her legs. In a swift motion, her hands came together in a soundless clap and the clouds shot off to the Northeast, racing like thoroughbreds through the sky. Every messenger in its path cleared the way.

Returning inside she did not pause to rest, but continued down the stairs. With each step the list of questions grew. She wondered where the stranger fit into all this? She wondered if she had the energy for the voyage? But most of all she wondered if her message would reach the girl before Nakano did.

Where I write...think...

This is my little creation space. Not work space.

It has been a lonely spot since Dash died, but Smudge and I are now back in the habit of sitting here again and pondering our human and canine navels.

Smudge alternates between being close to my chair and out on the small deck when the door is open.

Flight of the Warrior Chapter 13 - Hunting

Once he knew in which direction to find her, he urged the black horse a little faster. The beast seemed to have a reserve of energy that was boundless, in fact like a demon itself. It was well capable of the speeds he demanded of it.

When he first came upon the horse it was wild and crazed, having been shot by a bow through the flank. He was unsure at first if he wanted to catch and treat the animal but somehow he had been drawn to do so.

Following the hapless creature for two days, keeping a short distance, he was able to close the gap slowly. Each time he moved marginally and then sustained the distance for another hour, moving only when the horse was comfortable. Eventually he was able to lay a hand on the nose of the thing and with some coaxing remove the arrow.

He enjoyed riding in preference to flying, even though he made slower progress. Atop this preternatural mount he felt more powerful somehow. He certainly had experience of coming upon a battlefield and men and horse alike fleeing from his charge. The black horse would set back its bat like ears, lower its neck and charge with such force that a tremendous wind tunnel was created, making it hard for enemies to stand steady. This provided him with the opportunity to relieve a man of his head.

He smiled at the memory. It was diabolical splendour.

He knew that war was coming, a new threat from across the seas. This did not displease him, but was simply a potential new source of income. A ronin for hire in times of unrest was never without currency.

He was however, concerned that the advent of war may come sooner than expected. He hoped for at least a week with his little Toraneko, to teach her he was her master. Not only did she provide him with physical delectation, he felt there was more to discover. There was much he wanted to know, and he would make her tell him.  How was it that she could fly, or know how to manage the short sword she had some skill in wielding? And more than that, what else did she know?

There was predictability in his daily life, but with her, there was the unknown. A new type of entertainment awaited him. There for his taking.

The little fool had left a trail. He had picked up the scent playing on the wind without too much difficulty but he was perplexed by the direction it was taking him. First the ravine into which he had to fly, and then to the hilltop where a bare hut sat abandoned. He saw the disturbance in the snow where a body had flailed about, and then the trail went cold. He had spent valuable time absorbed in the patterns in the snow. Could two people have made these marks? If so, who was the second person? The man he had seen at the hut? A mentor who had taught her some of the skill necessary to be a warrior? In any case he needed to be on his guard.

It took some time focussing on countless whispers on the wind before he found the one he sought and recommenced the hunt. He was headed to the coast, maybe two days ride between him and the open sea. One day if he flew. He contemplated his options and decided to ride till nightfall, rest, then fly the remaining distance. By then he would know exactly where she had fled.

And where it was he would capture her a second and final time.