"Oh, come now, Moi. No more sour looks." Nata pleaded as he entered his tent and found Keema's murderous glare settled on him once again. "I'm tired." He rolled his shoulders back, causing his heavy coat to slide down his arms and stop in his hands. Folding it in a messy square, he placed it on the small table next to the entrance. Next, he reached for the ties holding back his hair. "I've yet to rest from our travels of yesterday, and I would like nothing more than an enjoyable, calm evening."
Keema made a mocking sound deep in her throat, and returned to staring at her lap. Even she didn't feel like arguing with him, the glare had only become habit. In that moment, she really hadn't felt any sort of hatred towards the man; she hadn't felt much of anything that whole day besides the sadness, the sadness of Haku's death..
She sighed, and a half sob escaped her as she failed to hide her previous crying. She cursed herself when she noticed Nata quickly turn to look at her. A questioning frown had settled on his face as he examined her. "What's wrong, Moi?" The general moved quickly to her side, untying the straps of his sword as he went. When he reached the cushions she had settled upon, he sat, one knee raised, the other pressed flat on the ground, its foot against the other's thigh. He settled his sword across his lap, his grip on it firm. He knew better than to let Keema get her hands on it.
"You miss the boy, don't you?" He asked softly, his voice perhaps even containing some trace of guilt. Her eyes shot to his, disbelieving his tone. His gray eyes looked sincere, but Keema knew better. As she went to turn away again, Nata's hand caught her chin and directed her face back in his direction. When she refused to meet his eyes, he leaned over until he was in her line of vision. "Please, Moi, say something."
"Go to hell."
Nata's eyes widened, then narrowed. He pulled his hand back quickly causing her head to jerk in his direction from the quick, angry movement. "That was not very ladylike." He said, slightly annoyed.
Keema looked over his shoulder, not giving him the satisfaction of looking at him. "I think you've realized by now that I'm far from ladylike."
Nata chuckled deeply. "Yes, very true."
Without another word, the general stood, making sure his sword was firmly in his grasp. He made his way to a heavy, wooden chest that always sat in the corner of the tent. He was going to lock up his weapons for the night. He always slept easier knowing they were safely out of Keema's grasp, he wouldn't wake to his throat cut by his own blade.
The general knelt and reached inside of his shirt, removing a small golden key bound around his neck by a leather strap. Even in unlocking the chest, he did not remove the key from his neck. He knew his captive well enough. At any opportunity she saw, she would pounce. One slip up, and she would have the key. Perhaps even without his knowledge, then she could easily produce a weapon. He couldn't have that.
Leaning over the chest, Nata unlocked the heavy lock, listening intently to the mechanism. He knew every detail of the sounds the lock made. If any piece of metal didn't rub another just right, he would know it.
All sounded right, telling him his captive had made no attempt to tamper with the lock. With a quick glance over his shoulder at the demoness behind him, he rolled his shoulders to rid his upper body of his shirt and began to remove his weapons and place them carefully in the chest.
First, he wrapped his long sword in a thin white cloth, protecting it from being damaged by the rest of the weapons that would be placed upon it shortly. Securing the cloth with a small string to hold it in place, Nata placed his sword diagonally across the bottom of the chest, making sure it would not become lodged within the too small dimensions. He removed his dagger from his belt in the same moment, lining up its hilt with his sword's within the box.
Next, he lifted his pant's leg and began untying the dark, leather harness around his ankle. He withdrew the blade from it gently. It was a small, thin blade that the harness held just within his boot. Such a weapon would only be used for a close, surprise attack, but being so thin and flexible, designed so it could bend with owner's ankle, the weapon would be no good for a frontal stab. The only attack such a weapon would be good for would be slitting an enemy throat.
Keema touched her own throat, remembering her close encounter with another weapon in the same way. Nata had almost slit her throat the night he had discovered her.
He checked the blade against his finger. Not using the weapon often, he did not know of its condition. It seemed sharp enough, and there appeared to be no visible evidence of rust, so he placed it beside his sword within the chest.
Then came his arm guards. They were made of a hard metal, hard over the top of his lower arms, but leather over his forearms. The leather side contained three small pouches, and within each pouch was a very small throwing blade. None were large enough to kill on their own, but Keema knew from stories and from examination of his carefulness when he handled the blades that they were coated in a deadly northern poison. His last resort should a battle go in the wrong direction. He made quick work of the ties that held the guards in place at his wrists and elbows. Pulling another cloth from the chest, Nata wrapped the guards tightly, a precaution should the blades fall from their pockets and contaminate his other weapons.
Last, Nata began untying the wide belt that laid across his lower abdomen, undoing the careful ties on his lower back. The belt contained many viles and pouches. All were knotted tightly to the belt to prevent any sort of movement that would distract the wearer or throw him off balance. None of the pouches or viles had any kind of labeling, the wearer having memorized their every position on the belt.
Keema knew what the belt contained; Mushi wore a similar belt around his own abdomen.
Poisons.
The North was known for it poisons. It's climate allowed for the growth of many different spices and low bushes that, after many, many years, the people of the North had concocted into many different poisons and medicines. Most commoners of the North only knew the recipes for weak poisons and medicines, those that have been passed down from generation to generation. They really are the only potions that are of use to these common people. They need not know the recipes for poisons that can kill a man in an instant.
But those of war know these poisons.
Northern wars always involve deadly poisons. The soldiers coat their blades in powerful, deadly powder. This technique allows a soldier to run through a battlefield, only striking enemy soldiers once and moving on to another and another and another, content in knowing that these men who consider themselves lucky to have survived the battle will not see the next morning. This allows for a quick attack by the North, then a retreat, ensuring large casualties on the enemy side and less on the Northern side.
Once being the head of the Northern army, Nata knew every one of the most deadly poisons thus discovered, every antidote as well.
Watching Nata, Keema wondered to herself just how many of the viles on his belt actually contained poisons. Being in a war with the North made his advantage much lower, the other side having just as much knowledge of the poisons as he. Mushi has been very thorough in teaching his soldiers to recognize unusual symptoms, however subtle or slight, and to name the poison or at least list every detail to a medic with a wider knowledge of the poisons. Premade antidotes were made available to the soldiers, and each soldier is required to carry a small pouch tied at their hip, full of the antidotes to all of the most common poisons coating their weapons, should they cut themselves.
It had been a good move on Mushi's part to expose his men to the dangers of the poisons of war, but Keema doubted it had been truly necessary. Most of the viles Nata had on his being were most likely antidotes. The few poisons were probably there lest he stumble across an opportunity to use them or to replenish the poisons on his blades, but they would be useless in the heat of battle, tucked too securely within his clothes.
But, if he were ever struck down by a Northern soldier and he suspected poison, he would have the antidote on his person. He wouldn't have to send one of his officers to find the vile in his belongings nor chance them grabbing the wrong one. No, he would have them all about his waist and be able to grab the right one in an instant.
The lid of the chest closed loudly, startling Keema out of her thoughts. Nata leaned over the chest to lock it again with the key about his neck. He stood and turned to her, not bothering to bring his shirt back around his shoulders. Damn him. His full demon blood ran warmer than her half-blood, and the warmer air of the tent was comfortable for him, while Keema still felt its chill.
"Moi, would you like something to eat?" Nata asked as his eyes focused on the palm of his right hand. He began to undo the small straps at his wrist holding the soft leather across his palm and lower knuckles. It was to protect his hands from being injured when using his weapons. The glove came off in his hand, and he tossed it onto the lid of the trunk.
"Well, would you like something?" He motioned to the dishes placed on the low table to Keema's right.
She shook her head. "I do not wish to eat." And made no move to even look at the delicious foods placed upon the table.
Earlier, Kirkra had brought in the food, glaring at her the whole time, but not speaking, though she visibly wished to. Her eyes said enough. Nata's order must have been the only thing that had kept the cat from unleashing her fury on Keema's weak form.
Suddenly, the owl was kneeling beside her, his palm on her cheek. His bare chest brushed her arm. His warmth burned, and she pulled her arm closer to her body to break the contact.
"Please, Moi. You haven't eaten since"—He paused for a moment, careful of his words— "the army moved out two days ago." His unspoken mention of Haku's execution made Keema's heart ache painfully again, her stomach churned.
"I am not hungry."
His eyes darkened, his voice became deeper. "Moi, if you refuse again, I am not against force feeding you. I will not have my enemies claim I do not take care of my captives." Nata warned.
"So, what of Nasuku?" Keema suddenly demanded. "You do not take care of that captive!"
Nata tensed, and Keema bit her tongue. She'd said too much.
His eyes were narrowed on her; his body pressed closer to hers in an attempt to intimidate her. "What concern is it of yours?" His voice was low. "The general should be the last thing on your mind, Moichuri."
Fighting instinct to back down, Keema looked him in the eye, defiant. Nata's eyes widened at her boldness. "Isn't his well-being an insight on what mine may become?" She said, her voice low. "Tell me, Nata, will I find myself one morning tied to a post like that, my shoulder broken, my ribs cracked?"
Standing, Nata moved to the table with long strides. He sat carefully, smoothly. "He is a prisoner of war, Moi." The general replied calmly. "You are a guest."
A snort came from Keema. Gray eyes glared at her.
"As for being tied to a support," pouring himself a disk of sake, his voice became playful; he took a sip, "that can be arranged, but only for our enjoyment, I assure you." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. With her look, he added, his voice sour with disappointment, "Though, from what I see, that probably will not be anytime soon."
"Ever."
A warm chuckle filled the air. "We shall see, my little Moi." Another sip of the warming sake. He raised his hand to her, beckoning her. "Now, come here and dine with me before you starve."
Keema, knowing he would not let her rest until she did as he said, pushed slowly to her feet. Her legs ached from remaining in the same position all day.
When she sat on the opposite side of the table from Nata, her eyes remained in her lap. She did not even look up when he placed a full plate of food in front of her. "Eat." He said simply. When she did not look from her lap to the food, Nata was instantly alarmed. He reached across the table and gently tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "Please, eat, Moichuri." His voice was soft, pleading, his eyes gentle. "You need to eat."
Keema held his gaze for a moment, startled by the softness of his eyes, but recovered shortly. Her hand closed around his wrist and calmly pushed his hand away, her head turning away from him, chin raised. "Do not touch me, Nata." She responded, meeting his slightly wide eyes through the corners of her own as she folded her hands in her lap again. "I do not long for the touch or concern of a killer."
The low table that had separated her from the enemy general was instantly gone, slamming into the wall of the tent, ceramics smashing on the floor, the thick cloth of the walls waving in all directions from the impact.
Nata's gray eyes blazed above her. Keema felt fear run through her. She had gone to far again.
He grabbed her arm with a strong hand, ensuring bruises, and pulled her off of the ground in a quick, fast motion. She cried out as her arm was nearly pulled from the socket. Her feet didn't touch the ground. "I'm kind to you." He shouted, as his other hand found her chin and turned her face to his. "You are not chained or injured. You are kept safe from my men's desires. You are fed, and you are dressed." Pulling her face closer to his, his eyes narrowed dangerously as his voice lowered. "This hatred that you show me, this resistance, if I have to, I will force it from you." He released her with an angry flick of the wrist, and she found herself upon the cushions of the tent. She hadn't even noticed his movement from the remnants of the table to the bed. "You will remain here with me." Suddenly, he was over her, his weight on his elbows over her head, nose touching hers.
His voice was low, but not angry. "One day, you'll come to find you need my attention, Moi. You'll yearn for the moment I enter this tent and give you my company. I swear it." Keema met his eyes with a glare, but Nata only smiled, moving even closer. "One day," He continued, his voice soft, "You'll beg for my kiss,"--a hand ran through her hair gently as his lips brushed her neck-- "you'll beg for my touch." His lips found her ear. "One day, my little Moi, you'll beg for me to have you under me like this." Leaving one hand in her hair, Nata moved the other down her side and over her hip to the fold of her kimono. "One day," --he began to push the fold apart, a knee settling between her thighs-- "you'll beg me for this." His breath was hot against her ear.
Keema locked her leg around his remaining outstretched one, rendering it useless, and pushed off with the other, flipping him onto his back. The wind was knocked out of him as she slammed her elbow into his stomach then pressed her other forearm to his throat, putting her weight into it so he could not draw in the breath he desperately needed.
"I will never beg for your touch, Nata." Keema said slowly, her voice low. "I will never enjoy your company, nor anything that may occur in your presence. The very thought of you is enough to repulse me. I pray you do not return to this tent every night."
His eyes flashed, and Keema found an arm around her waist and a hand at her throat, pushing her up and away to remove her arm from his throat. "That may have been a good move"--he coughed--"if you had restrained my arms in some way, Moi." His voice was hoarse, and Keema, overcome with the shock and embarrassment of her ill-thought plan, did not react fast enough to prevent another change of position.
Nata settled above her once again: waist between her thighs and her hands pinned above her head in one of his. "I sometimes play with the idea that you are a spy, my little Moi," He ran his fingers through her hair, his eyes distant. Panic surged through her momentarily. Then his eyes fell upon her, laughing, "but then I realize just how farfetched that really is. You know nothing of fighting, of spying. You're sly, that I must admit, and quick tongued, but your battle skills are far from those of any spy or even a normal demon. You truly are a demoness that needs to be protected." He pressed a kiss to her collarbone. "Allow me to be that protection..."
Jerking violently under him, Keema shouted, "Have you not heard anything I have said? I'm repulsed by you, you bastard! Get off--!"
She was silenced.
Her eyes became wide; her movements ceased.
No.
She jerked her head away, shouting again. "No--!" But his hand found her chin and held it in place; her lips were silenced again. She closed her eyes tight as his lips settled on hers again, trying to force them into submission. The general forced her lips open...
"Sir?"
Nata's lips left her being instantly as he jerked around to see who had disrupted him. Keema didn't open her eyes or move, not wanting to encourage him in any way. She prayed whoever stood within the tent would take Nata away. Maybe there was some business within camp he had overlooked that day?
"What is it, Gshiro?" Nata demanded, venom in his voice, very irritated by the interruption. He did not move from Keema.
Gshiro acted as though he had not noticed Nata's obvious command to leave. His deep green eyes were set and hard. "I have news, General." His voice was strong, sure. He would not be leaving anytime soon.
Nata gave his spy a glare than looked down at the shaking demoness beneath him "Moi, open your eyes." His voice was hard, like when she had been a soldier. It no longer contained any trace of the smooth and warm voice he had taken up since entering the tent. Honey-gold eyes slowly appeared from beneath tightly sudden eyelids to look up at him, not daring to disobey him when he used such a tone. She knew what could happen when he was angered. Their eyes locked momentarily, and Keema's heart sank when she saw the promise in them.
Once this meeting had ended, his advances would continue.
Nata pushed himself into a kneeling position between Keema's legs, still holding her gaze. With one more intense look, he stood to face his younger spy. "Now," He said, moving to relax on another set of cushions to Keema left, "What do you have to report?" Nata crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the cushions, letting his spy know that even though he was listening, he was still not pleased by his interruption.
Keema sat up slowly, pulling her kimono closed at the throat, wishing she could hide her skin from view, but the size of her kimono promised the opposite. When Gshiro did not answer Nata quickly, Keema raised her eyes from her lap to see what was going on. The spy had not moved from his spot just within the tent. His eyes were on her, his mask making his face expressionless.
"I do hope you did not come here to admire my prisoner, Gshiro." Nata said coldly, his hands fisting against his upper arms.
Gshiro eyes snapped to Nata. "No, General, of course not. I've come to inform you of the progress within the enemy camp."
"Well," Nata said quickly, his tone suddenly lighter. He lounged back on a rather large pile of cushions, hands folding under his head. "Have you been successful?"
Keema became suddenly worried. What were they doing to the Western Army? Without being able to report to the Western army and with Nata never speaking of any plans around her, she was now completely ignorant of any new plans that were taking place. During the few times she had been allowed to leave Nata's tent, she had listened intently for any word of the war, but the soldiers around her had always seemed unusually silent about the subject. She suspected Nata had ordered his men to be such.
That hadn't stopped Keema from keep some sort of idea as to what was going on in the war. She hoped that with her past knowledge, she could keep some kind of idea as to what was going on. With all of the recent traveling, she knew that Nata planned to attack the Northern palace, but she had never heard of any plan that had to do directly with the Western and Northern armies.
Gshiro's eyes scanned Keema's expression quickly, taking note of the worry on her face, before his gaze settled on Nata again. He answered his general. "Just this morning, another fight broke out between two soldiers, a Northerner and a Westerner. It almost ended in the death of the Western soldier. But the Northern general," the spy's eyes once again moved to Keema, "Mushi, stepped in just in time to save the soldier."
At the sound of her lover's name, Keema's heart suddenly ached, and she pressed the hand holding her kimono up hard against her chest. She would have given anything to see him and be in his arms. Then the past weeks came back to her all at once, and she lowered her eyes, doubt filling her. Would he still be mad at her for running from him, or would he just hold her tightly, glad to have her in his arms again? Would he ever find out about her night with Haku? Would she be able to live with knowing she had been loved by another?
Was she pregnant?
The last thought caught her off guard. She hadn't even thought of that. Pressing a hand to her abdomen, she pondered the possibility. Could it be true?
She shook her head.
No. It hadn't been the right time in her cycle.
Even so, she still found herself fidgeting.
Nata stared at a spot on the floor, rubbing the lower half of his face, pondering the report. Then he said slowly, thinking aloud, "If the Western soldier had been killed, the fury between the armies would have increased ten-fold." His eyes met his spy's. "I want you to ensure the death of a soldier, it does not matter which side. Ensue a fight while the remaining officers are distracted. Make it very large, perhaps then there would be multiple deaths, which would only add to the fire. But do it before that annoying Captain Rook and Lord Yugi return. Once they are there, a fight will be hard to cause. The senior soldiers respect Rook too much to go against his wishes."
Gshiro pressed a hand to his mask and pressed his other forearm to his waist in a bow. "Yes, sir."
"Also," now Nata stared at Keema, "Mugen reported that one of our coats was discovered in General Mushi's tent not too long ago when the general disappeared." His eyes told Keema he was still suspicious of her. He thought the coat was hers. Which he was correct in assuming, but she couldn't let him know that. But why hadn't he confronted her about it? She hadn't even known he had come to find out about the coat. That was fairly odd of him. "Play on that." Nata continued, his cold eyes meeting the dark green ones of his spy. "Make the other officers turn on him. Make his soldiers distrust him. Turn Rook against him. He is in charge at the moment, isn't he?"
Gshiro shrugged, wincing as the movement made his wound throb. That human, Hazari, had a good arm. "I believe Sessho is the head one in change at the moment, but as you said, Rook is greatly respected by the senior soldiers, so he does have a great influence."
"Then use that." Nata replied, his voice sure. "And you are sure that the army has no idea where we are?"
Gshiro smiled beneath the shadow of his mask. "I'm absolutely positive, General."
Mushi raised his head to look at Sessho. "Are you sure?" He asked again.
Sessho nodded shortly, drawing back from the maps and stretching. The two had been leaning over the low table for a long while now, going over the many maps spread about. The commander's back was beginning to ache. "I'm completely sure."
"And these maps are accurate?"
"Drawn by my own father many years ago." Sessho reassured him, running his finger once again to the mountain range in the northern portion of the map. "The only place an army that large could hide and move through undetected is through this pass just as the letter said."
At the mention of the letter, Mushi glanced to his side where the parchment now sat, knocked from the table sometime while the maps were being thrown about the table. Sessho had discovered the letter on his desk that morning. It had been written as though from Keema, but something about the handwriting wasn't right to him. It appeared to be Keema's handwriting, but yet, there were inconsistencies within it. The letter's characters weren't quite as beautiful as Keema's usually were, almost masculine in comparison. Normally, Keema's letters could almost be considered art, her characters were so beautiful and detailed, but this letter was similar the result of an amateur artist attempting to copy a famous artwork. Those who don't know the artwork believe it for the real thing, but those who know the original instantly know it is a fake.
"What is it, Mushi?" Sessho asked, noticing his troubled look.
Mushi didn't hear his commander as he picked up the letter, examining it closer. The way it was written didn't seem right either. It lacked Keema's almost poetic sentences. These were just so blunt and to the point, cold not sweet. Perhaps she had been in a rush to write the letter and thus, had abandoned her normal perfection.
But even that was implausible. Keema, having had teachers starting from a very young age, was a fast writer, though her letters still contained the same elegance as her slowly written letters.
Another large problem; there was no mention of how Keema's plan had gone. It obviously had failed if the army had already moved as far as the letter said, but that was not mentioned anywhere in the letter, nor was Nasuku's condition mentioned. In every letter thus received from Keema, there had been some mention of Nasuku or an explanation as to why she had nothing to report about him. But the letter had neither. No mention of him. Not even an "I apologize, but I'm being so closely watched, I have not had the opportunity to check up on Nasuku." Nothing of that sort.
"I do not think this is our spy's handwriting." Mushi said slowly, eyes still on the letter. He turned it over in his hands, looking for any other clues as to who really wrote the letter.
Sessho nodded as he carefully began rolling up the maps on the table, mindful of the old, weathered parchment. "I suspect the same thing as well."
The Northern general looked at his commander quickly. "Then how can you trust what the letter says is true? It could very well be a trap." He tossed the letter down on the table. "Perhaps they have climbed the mountain and plan to push rocks down the sides to crush as we search for them. Our armies could be lost, I hope you understand that."
Sessho smiled slightly, standing to return the maps to the chest behind him. "The rebel army is racing to the Northern palace; they are not going to waste their time ambushing a larger army in a pass. Why would they risk that kind of attack when they could be at the northern palace not long after and have an even larger advantage." The chest shut loudly. "I know I have said this before," Sessho said as he turned back to Mushi, his arms crossed, "Nata is not an idiot. He knows what he's doing."
Mushi nodded, still not liking the situation. "Then who do you think sent the letter?" He asked slowly, meeting Sessho eyes as he turned back from the chest.
Sessho shook his head. "There's no way for us to know. They seem to have no intention of letting us know their identity, that's proven with the absence of a signature at the bottom of that letter, but I still suspect someone on our side."
"How can you assume that?" Mushi asked, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. "It could very well be someone trying to trick us. So, perhaps they aren't trying to ambush us, alright, but they could be leading us in the wrong direction. What if the rebel army has found another way through the mountain range, a faster one. We could be delayed even further by this information. Then how could we possibly beat Nata to the Northern palace?"
Sessho remained standing. "You saw the maps, General. Did you see any other paths through the mountain range? The only other one lay nearly a hundred miles to the east. Nata would never take one so out of the way. This is the path the Northern army will take."
"But this pass was thrown out when we were discussing Nata's possible moves at the palace." Mushi stood as well, one of his hands resting on his sword hilt. "The pass is very narrow, and the mountains are very steep around it. If an avalanche were caused, the whole army would perish. The army would have to move very slowly through. Would Nata really waste so much time?"
"Better than going around the mountains or taking that distant pass. Much faster." Sessho replied, crossing his arms and looking down in thought. "Even going at a snail's pace through the pass, he would still beat us to the Northern palace if we attempted to go around or take that pass to the east."
Mushi sighed, still not wanting to trust the letter, but seeing Sessho's logic. "So, what's the plan then, Commander?"
Sessho pressed his lips together, unsure. "Without Reeka, Yugi, and Hazari, we are the only officers at the moment, and two is not enough for an army this size. An attack would fall apart. We can't meet the rebel army until the other officers return."
"There are soldiers in this camp who can be our replacements for just his battle. Shinsai is a—!"
Sessho's hard eyes set on Mushi. "That's my decision. The army doesn't move until the others return. We'll send a messenger now to bring them the message. The storm has passed now; their travel here will be short, especially when we inform them of situation." He moved to leave the tent, intending to do exactly as he said.
"What about our spy, Commander?" The general's voice was broken.
Sessho turned slowly back. Mushi had settled back down onto the cushions about the low table, head down. "What do you mean?"
"What do you think has happened to our spy? If another demon is sending the letters in his place, what has happened to our spy that prevents him from sending his own letters?" Mushi asked slowly, softly. "Do you think he's been hurt, killed?"
Sessho sighed sadly. "I fear that as well, but we have no way of knowing at this point."
Mushi buried his face in his hands, and let out a slow, shaky breath. This was exactly what he feared. Something had happened to Keema. Was she hurt? Was she still alive? Had she been found out? Was she a captive?
He cursed himself for not marking her when he'd had the chance. But it was pointless to regret. She had never given him any reason to believe that she wanted him as her life mate. They were only lovers, and perhaps that was all she wanted. She was still young, and a mark was a life decision. Maybe she wasn't ready for such a decision. But a mark would have really helped him calm his nerves. He would be aware of her condition if she bore his mark.
"Mushi." Sessho was standing next to him.
He removed his hands from his face, not knowing how Sessho would respond to his obviously deep concern for their spy. "Yes, Commander?"
"Do not make yourself sick with worry. My sister is strong." Sessho said in a low voice, sitting next to him. Mushi's wide eyes settled on him, not realizing he knew their spy's identity. Sessho smiled, reassuring. "Keema is alive. I know she is. I can feel it." He placed a hand on Mushi's shoulder and squeezed. "She hasn't been found out either. If she had, we would have received a ransom letter boasting about her capture."
"You can't be sure of that." Mushi said, his voice growing cold. He shook off Sessho's hand and stood, quickly, pulling on his coat. "You can't be sure of anything! Nata is unpredictable. For all we know, he could be sending us her head in a box at this moment! I wouldn't put it above him. Make us angry, and we become an easy opponent!" The young general scooped his sword from the table and placed it in his belt. "This is your sister, Sessho. This isn't just some spy, but your sister! And you are calm. How?" Sessho stood, hands fisted at his sides, seeing a personal attack coming.
"How could you let her go?" Mushi demanded, taking a step closer to his commander, putting them nose to nose, challenging. "You knew it was your sweet, little, untrained sister. And you let her go! My lover could be dead, Commander, because you did not grab her when you had the chance. She was an untrained spy, Sessho! Spies are killed upon discovery, and Keema hardly knew how to remain undercover! I, at least, tried to stop her from going back to Nata's camp, but you? Ha! You knew it was her the last time she reported, and you let her go right on back! And because of that, she could be hurt, or worse, dead!"
Sessho's eyes resembled his father's, furious. His powerful energy whipped through the tent. "How dare you accuse me of that!" He shouted. "How dare you say I do not care for my sister! My sister means the world to me, but if I had grabbed her and sent her home, she would not have stayed there long. She was determined to do her part, and her reports were unmeasurably helpful to us. Without her, we would not be--!"
"We have won wars before without spies, Commander." Mushi replied coldly. "This war is no exception. We would have done just fine without Keema's help. The information she has brought us is not worth the risk of losing her."
Mushi took a step closer to his Commander, standing nose to nose with him. "If she is hurt, I do believe you will pay the price."
Sessho's emotionless eyes met Mushi's. "Is that a threat, General?"
"No, it's a promise, Commander."
"Well, if that is all you have to report, Gshiro, you are dismissed." Nata said, standing as though to return to Keema.
"Wait, General." Gshiro said suddenly, taking another step deeper into the tent. Nata paused, his eyes growing more and more irritated with every passing moment. "I passed Kirkra on my way here." He went on. "She told me to send you to her once I had given my report."
Nata snorted, turning to look down at Keema. "It is probably something unimportant. I'll see her about it in the morning. Now, Gshiro, you are dismissed." His voice didn't not allow for question, but that didn't stop Gshiro.
"She said it's about Nasuku, and it's something you must attend to immediately."
Nata cursed. "Fine! I'll see what is wrong with that damned woman!" He shouted as he grabbed his coat and pulled it on angrily. "It better be damn important!" He said, pushing past Gshiro and out of the tent. The spy followed him out, as though leaving, but when the general disappeared from sight, he turned back and quickly reentered the tent.
His eyes landed instantly on Keema, examining her. She diverted her eyes, pulling the shoulders of her kimono up as high as she could to hide the marks she knew were beginning to form on her neck from Nata.
"Why are you here?" She demanded, praying his intentions were good, but deep inside doubting that this spy could have any good intentions towards her. "Please, leave."
Gshiro approached her slowly, removing his mask as he went and securing it to his hip with the ties. Keema examined his dark complexion, his dark green eyes. She came to the conclusion that he was younger than she.
He knelt in front of her, and began shrugging off his coat, letting it slide down his arms slowly. Keema noticed this and went to move away quickly, fearing he wished to finish what he'd seen Nata start.
Gshiro's hand quickly closed around her wrist, stopping her backward movement. His touch was soft. "Please, my Lady, calm yourself." He whispered. "I haven't come here to harm you."
Keema met his eyes when her title left his lips. His dark eyes were sincere. "How did you know...?" She was scared even with his reassurance. What did he plan to do with this information?
Gshiro released her wrist and brought around to his front a shoulder bag that had been hidden beneath his coat. Keema recognized the bag. "That's Haku's." She whispered more to herself than Gshiro. She could pick up his scent from the bag, and it brought tears to her eyes.
A soft touch brought her face up to meet Gshiro's guilty eyes. "Shh, my Lady, I know it hurts, and I'm so sorry I was not here to talk the general out of it." He brushed a thumb over her cheek to catch a tear. "But I'll be here from now on to help you."
Before Keema could question him, Gshiro reached inside the bag and pulled out a journal, Haku's loved journal. He handed it to her gently. "This is how I found out who you were." He whispered very gently.
Taking the book from him, Keema held it tightly to her chest. She set very accusing eyes on him. "You read Haku's personal journal?" She demanded, angry.
"I only read the last page, my Lady. I swear." He replied, his voice calm. "I suspected you were Lady Keema with all of the talk around the Western camp about your disappearance and your relationship with the Northern general, Mushi. And when the Northern general went missing the same night you eluded General Nata, I had a feeling it was you. From what I picked up, you were the only one who could put the childish general in such an enraged state." Gshiro smiled softly as Keema nodded sadly at what he'd said. "By the time I heard of your companion's discovery, he had already been put to death. But I knew his personal belongings were to be burned when they were found, so I grabbed them to see if I could confirm or disprove my assumption. I only needed to read the last page to confirm who you were. So, that's all I read."
Keema gave him a look that told him she did not believe him. Gshiro sighed, but he did not try to press his case any longer. Whether she believed him or not did not matter, and with the limited time they had, he needed to move on.
"I've also brought you some things from your own pack." Gshiro went on. Digging further into the pack, he removed a glass bottle containing a clear liquid and one containing a tan, thicker liquid, almost a paste.
Keema's eyes widened, and she took the bottles from him, her eyes thankful. "Does this mean you are not going to expose me?" She asked hesitantly. Why would he give her the scent mask and the makeup for her crest if he wished to expose her?
"I never planned on exposing you, my Lady." Gshiro said as he stood. He peeked his head out of the tent flap again, looking to see if anyone was around. "I'm going to help you." He finished when he came to the conclusion he was safe to speak.
Eyes wide, Keema stood clutching the things he'd given her to her chest. "Help me?" She stuttered. "Why would you help me? I'm the daughter of your enemy!"
Gshiro turned to her suddenly. Something burned passionately in his eyes. "But you are not my enemy, my Lady. Lord Sesshomaru is my enemy, not his children nor his grandchildren; he is." He paused and said softly, his head turned to the side, "And I do not even truly believe your father to be my enemy any longer." His eyes returned to her. "I've realized who the real enemy in this war is."
Shocked by his words, Keema didn't speak, only stared at him, her mouth still agape. "Now," Gshiro moved the bag to the front of him again, "replace the scent mask and recover your mark, then please return them to me. I also need the journal back."
Keema suddenly took a step away from him, clutching the journal to her chest. It was all she had left of her Haku.
Gshiro approached her slowly, making her understand he was not going to snatch the book or take it from her by force. He slowing extended his hand. "My Lady, I will return it to you tomorrow morning when Nata leaves for the day, but we cannot risk him finding it. No matter where you hide it, there is the chance he will find it."
"Aren't you leaving tonight?" Keema questioned, still clutching the book. "How will you return it to me?"
Gshiro outstretched his hand, asking silently for the journal. "I will not be leaving until tomorrow morning. I some things around camp to complete before I return to the Western campsite."
"And your absence won't be noticed?"
Gshiro smiled, an odd, almost sad smile, his hand dropping slightly. "Hiding my absences is the only thing my brother is good for." His voice was low as he said this. Then it returned to the deep, full voice he normally used. "Now, please, my Lady, the journal?" His hand was extended again.
She held it tighter for a moment, almost refusing, then she pushed aside her childish behavior and handed him the book. "Thank you." He said, placing it very gently in Haku's shoulder bag. "Now, quickly, replace your scent mask and makeup. I don't know how much longer Nata will be."
Keema uncorked the scent masker. She placed two fingers flat over the top and gave the bottle a quick flip, covering the pads of her fingers. A quick dab on her forehead, neck, and a couple on her clothes did the trick. She handed the bottle back and uncorked the makeup for her crest. She rubbed off the makeup that remained on her forehead, and recovered it, rubbing it in to her hairline to hide the transition. She handed that bottle back as well.
"Is that good?" She asked. "Is it covered?"
"Yes." Gshiro replied, pulling the bag back onto his shoulder. "I can't see the crest at all." He paused, almost pondering his next words. "Lady Keema, you need to know. I sent a letter to the officers of the Western army in your name this morning. I told them exactly where we are. So, within the next couple of days, expect an ambush. I will warn you if I am able, but I doubt I will be able to. So, take this." He reached to his hip and removed a small, sheathed dagger. He offered it to her, but when she placed her hand over it to take it, his other hand covered hers, holding it in place. Her eyes met his, questioning. His eyes were very serious. "You must promise me, my Lady," His voice was sure, strong, "that you will not use this any time before the attack. You cannot use it on Nata during his advances, nor to escape before the attack. Promise me, my Lady."
Keema nodded. "I promise, friend." She said softly, meaning it.
Gshiro released her hand with a nod. "Good. Now, I need you to think of a place where you could hide this dagger, but get to it easily. Perhaps bury it somewhere?"
"Couldn't I just put Haku's journal in the same place I put the dagger?" Keema asked, determined to have the journal back.
Gshiro gave her a hard look. "No. Nata finding a dagger in the dirt in an army campsite is very different than him finding a journal with your identity in it." Keema nodded with a sigh, understanding. His eyes softened. "You will have Haku's journal very soon, my Lady, but at this moment, we need to hide this dagger."
"Put it behind the tent." Keema said slowly.
Gshiro raised an eyebrow. "Behind the tent?"
Keema turned slightly and pointed in the direction of the back wall of the tent. "Hide it in the snow in between this tent and the one behind it. Then when I need it, I will be hidden as I retrieve it." She crossed her arms, loosely. "And then I won't be tempted to retrieve it early..."
Gshiro chuckled at her last comment. A very deep chuckle, warm. "Only a few more days, my Lady, and you will be rid of Nata. I promise."
"I hope you are right." Keema lowered her eyes, once again pulling her kimono close to her neck, and diverting his eyes. "I don't know how much more I can stand."
A gentle hand was on her cheek, turning her head back to look at the young, enemy spy before her. He pulled his hand back suddenly, unsure of how she would react to his touch. He hadn't meant it in any way than to give her some form of comfort for the hell he knew she went through every day. "This war will be over very soon, my Lady." He said softly. "Just a little bit longer."
Keema nodded. Then remembered. "You sent Nata to see Kirkra about Nasuku. What has changed?" She was desperate for more information about the war outside.
Gshiro's face was serious. "When General Nasuku heard of your companion's death, he became enraged and attacked Kirkra when she went to tend to him. He was eventually restrained, but not before hurting Kirkra very badly." He closed his eyes. "I don't understand him. He was strong when he first arrived, but then, for no reason that we have discovered, he lost the will to live and taunted Nata until he almost killed him on the spot." Keema gasped, never having heard this. Gshiro nodded to her. "So, it was decided afterwards that since the Western army had made no attempt to free him, he was a useless captive."
"They were going to kill him, weren't they?" Keema asked, having heard of such things before.
Gshiro nodded again. "Before the army moved to the pass, he was to be executed, but your companion's execution took up that time instead."
"So, Nasuku's execution was put off for a later time." Keema stated, understanding.
"Not exactly, my Lady. It was originally called off." Gshiro told her. "After he was freed several days ago and recovered so easily, Nata decided against his execution. It seemed Nasuku no longer even had the will to help his army. They no longer even bothered to restrain him. So, Nata decided if he was so little trouble, they would keep him alive, perhaps he would come in handy later. But now, after Haku's execution, he has become impossible to control." The young spy ran a hand over his face. "I suspect that when Nata finds out about Kirkra, Nasuku's execution will be rescheduled for very soon..."
Keema pressed a hand to her lips. "Please, tell me there is something you can do, Gshiro!" She said, panicked.
Gshiro's eyes moved to the floor. "There is nothing."
"Please," She grabbed his shirt with both of her hands, pleading, "Can you do anything? Delay them? Talk him out of it? Something? Talk to Nasuku! Tell him to calm down just a little longer!"
Gshiro sighed. "Nasuku would never listen to me." He paused for a moment. "The best I can do is perhaps delay the execution."
"Do that then." Keema said, releasing him. "If you can delay them long enough for the Western army to get here, he could be saved!"
The spy nodded. "I will do all I can, my Lady."
"Thank you." She offered him a weak smile.
As though he suddenly realized something, Gshiro bowed to Keema. "I must leave now, before Nata returns, my Lady." He grabbed his coat from the floor and shrugged it on over the pack on his shoulder. "Pass me the dagger so I may hide it where you have asked." She did.
Gshiro stopped his quick movements for a moment and studied Keema's face. "I will try to keep Nata from returning directly here, my Lady. I do not want you to receive his anger. In that time, please, try to get some sleep. You look like you need it."
Keema nodded to him, grateful.
"I will be around." Gshiro turned to the tent opening. He stuck his head out for a moment before turning to face her one last time. "And will try stop in when I can to check on you, but I cannot promise anything except that soon, this camp will be attacked. Be ready."
"Thank you for all you have done, Gshiro." Keema said, bowing low to him, lower than he had for her, so grateful. When she straightened, his eyes were wide, shocked by her action, but slowly a smile spread over his face. Every smile he gave seemed like it was forced, like the action had almost been forgotten once upon a time. Keema felt sorry for him.
"You're welcome, my Lady." Gshiro replied, putting his mask back in place. He took a step out of the tent then turned back suddenly. "And my Lady, do not trust my brother. He knows nothing of this."
Keema nodded to him, and he left.
Keema sat upon the cushions, exhausted from the meeting. So much new information flooded her mind, and she longed for sleep. Her head touched a pillow and her last thought was of a man betraying his kin and his people.
A brave, good man.
The next chapter will be a good one. I'm very excited to write it.
Please review.