Part Eleven
A/N: Warning, this chapter will have some references to rape, not graphic, but just a caution.
Shaman Koushiro of the k'Tora clan smiled briefly from beneath the shadow of his plain brown cowl. His apprentice shaman, Iori, looked up, his face also covered by a rough hood of his own. The two Hsu Mai silently got up and slipped out the door of the inn. Hurrying through the now mostly dark streets, both were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Going through a maze of streets, Koushiro tapped a door softly, murmuring something in code. The door silently slid open, revealing a young woman clad in deep purple, the hue so dark that it seemed almost black. She wore a loose burnoose colored the same shade to cover her head as a makeshift hood. A few strands of red- gold hair peeked out of the hood however as she observed them with unblinking cool violet eyes.
Iori blinked, looking at the woman. She reminded him vaguely of a high priestess-warrior of the Hsu Mai, though they of that order typically only wore plain, earth tones in their clothing. Red or black was only for certain rituals and in times of vengeance.
"I was expecting you, Shaman," she said softly and beckoned them in.
After they stepped in, she shut the door silently behind them. Leading them into a room comfortably furnished with cushions and rugs, she gestured to a low table in the center, with three flat sitting cushions by it. Three porcelain teacups were set upside down on the table as well as a ceramic teapot, with a black iron kettle on a brass brazier by the table. They sat down as she poured tea for all of them.
Dictating polite etiquette in the occasion, they bowed to one another before drinking a long draught from their handless cups. Setting down his own cup, Koushiro nodded to the woman, inhaling the sweet, spicy scent of the tea.
"Thank you, Ruki," he said quietly.
"It is my pleasure, Koushiro," she responded, pouring more into his cup. She nodded toward Iori. "And who may this be?"
"My apprentice Iori. Iori, this is Ruki, High Priestess of the Avenger Goddess."
"It is an honor to meet you," the boy said gravely, bowing politely to her.
She graced him with a faint trace of a smile. "A prodigy of yours, Koushiro?"
The Shaman chuckled. "I suppose you may say that, Ruki."
He took off his cloak, revealing breeches and a vest colored in shades of forest green and embroidered in saffron yellows, as well as a loose, long- sleeved shirt of light green, with bands of embroidery on the cuffs. The only sign of his title was a necklace consisting of a silver claw set with a single emerald on the top hung on a fine silver chain. Beneath the cowl, there was a young man with a shock of red hair and sparkling, knowledgeable jet black eyes.
Iori followed his example, revealing similar clothing as his master only colored in soft purples and grays. His emerald green eyes looked around, solemn and holding wisdom from below bangs of light brown hair.
"Now, I know that this isn't a visit for pleasantries," Ruki glanced at the both of them. "Have you sensed certain strangers? One with hair the color of mahogany wood and the other with hair the hue of the sky right after sunset?"
"We saw them, they are staying at the inn," Koushiro said evenly. "Apparently one of them is a thief and the other was a former, long ago. The one with blue locks is rather arrogant, but good at heart. They are both on a quest for the Eye of the Dragon."
The woman's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "And shall we let them pass through?"
"That I thought you should determine."
"No, no, I am not doing divination," she stated flatly, glaring.
"I wasn't asking you to, Ruki."
"Then what do you want?"
Koushiro took a long sip of his tea, musing. "Can you pull out some of those old scrolls? The ones on the prophecies?"
Ruki chuckled darkly. "And I expected something difficult. A moment." She got up and disappeared before reappearing with a stack of papers and scrolls.
Iori stared at the mass as she gently set them down on a table that had not been there before. "That many?"
"Listen and learn, young one," she scolded him gently before rummaging around and handing Koushiro a particular scroll. "This may be the one you're looking for."
He accepted it and unrolled it, muttering odd fragments of information. "One of the night and one of the flame… they will… Destined for Eye of the Dragon…"
Iori took a cup of tea as he watched, thoughtfulness in his green eyes. Ruki looked at him for a moment before getting up and disappearing again to put the remaining papers away. She returned with a rolled carpet tucked under her arm.
"I found it finally," she informed Koushiro tartly. "I think you may be interested in this."
The priestess unrolled the carpet before them on a clear area of the floor. Iori blinked as he gazed at it. It was simple, with seemingly random patterns woven into it in different colors, mostly in shades of blue, gold, and silver. But as he searched through it, he could see images flitting through the material just out of the corner of his eyes. The apprentice mused and sensed an aura of old magic about it.
"You found it?" Koushiro asked, sounding half incredulous, half relieved.
Ruki nodded. "I had to search around for it for some time, mind. You know what to do, but I am not sure about your apprentice." She nodded toward Iori.
"I am ready to learn, if it is alright," the boy said carefully, in his usual quiet voice.
"It is quite simple," Koushiro said, amused. "Concentrate on the carpet and touch it, lightly, this is an old weaving."
Iori nodded and touched the cloth carefully, blinking as he looked out of another's eyes, thinking another's thoughts, and felt another's emotions.
The smith labored on in the forge. Rather unusual was this scene, for one, the building was well stocked as well as with finished and half finished works stored around, the Hsu Mai were strictly weavers, traders, and breeders of dogs and horses as well as nomadic, and two, the smith was a woman. Sweat trickled in her eyes as her brown hair fought the tie and pins that confined it as Raven k'Osarah continued her work, ignoring it stubbornly. Nothing must stop this, she thought sternly slightly weary from the spell weaving and forging she had done over the period of the last few weeks (or was it more like years?).
No matter, she rested her iron will, as hard as the metal she forged, in continuing the work. What she was creating was a master blade, the one single prize creation every artisan creates at the peak of his or her skills. Picking up a fine chisel, she started to scratch protective symbols and spells onto the red hot metal carefully. They flared brightly, and then faded as she thrust the blade into a barrel of a strange liquid that bubbled occasionally, and was colored a rich red, almost like wine, or blood. She whispered the last words to the spell she created specially in the creation of this blade.
Not for one moment did she dare imagine what would happen if it failed. If she was lucky, the magic would escape from the sword and she would have to start again within two years. If she were not lucky, she would be hit by the backlash of spells on her body, which would either kill her or leave only an empty shell of a body. As the last word escaped her dry, cracked lips, the sword flared white, the sacred metal she used to create the blade glowing brightly with the intensity of a star on Earth even through the liquid she dipped the sword in.
Numbly, she stared, although she had known what the results would be if she succeeded. The liquid turned clear, all taints of red gone.
"Goddess," she whispered, making the sacred sign. "Purifying dragon blood water…"
As she pulled the still glowing sword out of the barrel, she could see that one side was darker than the other, starting to darken to jet-black while the other was pure white. Raven held the splendid blade in her hands, perfectly balanced. The hilt was plain, except for empty sockets at the pommel and the top of the hilt.
She murmured softly, as if someone were controlling her words, "I name thee the Eye of the Dragon."
~*~
"A fine blade," the sorcerer looked at her with an approving look. She had cleaned up after she had forged the blade and not a moment after she had finished dressing in fresh clothing; she already had a client who wished for the blade.
"I thank you," she said calmly, modestly. Best not to sound too proud, but she would not let go of this piece easily.
"I will pay you well for this," the man said. He was dressed in simple mage robes of dark burgundy, split for riding and banded in black. Well groomed and with mane of sandy hair flecked with gray, his brown eyes looked at her. For some mysterious reason, he made her skin crawl vaguely.
"That will have to be negotiated," Raven answered smoothly. "But if you wish to see the blade, I have it."
As she pulled it out, she felt an odd singing from the blade, like one of protest. The man examined it in its sheath, pulling out the blade for a moment before returning it. Taking it back quickly, the smith mage nodded curtly to the man before returning to her tent to have some rest.
After a long period of haggling and negotiating, Raven finally refused the man to purchase the blade, deciding it was best if she kept it because that lurking feeling she had around him increased.
His eyes had flashed as he said politely that if it were her wish, he would respect it. Suspicious, she hid the blade carefully from the eyes of magic and physical.
The smith mage strolled along the streets of one of the trading stops her people often went to in trading expeditions. She had already purchased the raw materials that she needed and some gifts for her friends and family. Raven sighed as a stray breeze ruffled her hair, bored out of her skull.
"Ah, Mage Raven, what a pleasant surprise," a voice said and she turned to face the mage who had offered to buy her sword a few weeks ago.
"Yes it is, Mage-" She searched for his name swiftly, recalling she had wished all memory of him gone but still he lingered, and found it. "Drakewind. How unexpected to find you here."
"Of course." He kissed her hand. "May I buy you a drink?"
She hesitated then nodded. "That would be wonderful, thank you."
"And I would like to talk to you about something," the man said, eyes gleaming. "Care to join me in my room here?"
The warrior's instincts that were embedded within Raven were screaming but she shrugged and answered, "Yes."
Later they settled in his room and he offered her a goblet of wine. She took it, swirling it in its vessel. He drank his down and manners dictated she do the same. Swiftly, she gulped it down, feeling the cool sweet liquid pour down her throat and into her stomach.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked politely.
"About your craft, it is so unusual for smiths to practice both magic and smithing at the same time." He smiled at her and poured her another cup of wine. "Much less for a woman to be doing the craft."
She shrugged carelessly. "I have a gift for it and my people believe that if one has a certain talent, they should use it, regardless of gender."
"And yet while being a smith, you retain so much beauty…" His voice trailed off.
Her skin crawled as she got up slowly. "I thank you for the drink and the compliment but I must leave, I will be missed."
"Please, just for one more glass," Drakewind persuaded.
He turned his back as he picked up the forgotten cup she had left. A swift movement she was unable to see him perform before he gave her to cup. She delicately sipped it, smelling a sweet, incense like scent with traces of spices within the liquid as her tongue tasted honey sweet liquor, and set it down. "Now I must leave."
But she felt suddenly disoriented and oddly sleepy. He gently took her arm and led her back into the room. "You look odd, perhaps you should rest."
"No, I must, my family…" she struggled, but a gray fog was clouding her mind and his voice soothed her.
"Just relax, that's a good mage, Raven. You just need some rest."
"No, my…" But a dim blurriness filled her vision and she saw him bending over her with a wicked smile before she sunk into a dim world that was then suddenly filled with pain.
She woke up later with a dull pain in her abdomen and her arms restrained. Coughing, she tasted blood on her lips. Somehow she felt unclean. Then she saw the remains of her clothes and silently wept. He had raped her. Raven then shoved aside the fear and anxiety as murderous thoughts ran through her mind. Muttering a quick spell, she burned through the ropes, fire magic being part of her gift of smith magic. She whipped around as a mocking laugh came nearby.
"You are so easy to fool, nomad," the mage laughed.
"I'm not your whore," Raven hissed, anger burning any fear in her mind. "And you were cowardly enough to drug me then rape me, you son of a bitch."
She was angry, no, this emotion was deeper than anger. This man had the indecency to rape her and the cowardice to drug her before doing so. She faced him as her lips moved in a spell that only few of her generation ever did in their lifetimes… and survived.
Calling on powers ones more powerful had failed to master, she fueled it with her anger, her grief, and her fear, forcing herself to recall dim memories of what had happened to her. A sword of fire appeared in her hands and in a single movement she leapt forward and impaled him through with it. His blood dripped onto the floor in a crimson stream and as he died, his face was filled with disbelief and fear as his eyes continued to look toward her. Disgusted, she then watched dimly as the sword disappeared. In a daze, she snatched up a cloak and stormed out. Later was the time to weep and to mourn the loss of her virginity, but it was more imperative for her to find her kin. The last bit of rage stayed in her heart for all men like him, embedded in her heart forever.
~*~
Raven sighed. She was old, and getting no younger by the day. Smiling at one of her granddaughters, she then trudged off to the forge to do some more work. The Healers and her relatives complained but she wouldn't listen. She bound back her silver hair neatly as she snatched up a piece of metal. On some impulse, she sang the rudimentary phrases of the same spell she used to forge the Eye of the Dragon. The metal seemed to form itself as she sang on, her voice, harsh with age and from breathing smoke, sounded as pure as it had when she was an apprentice smith. It formed into a handsome blade, not quite a short sword and a little too long to be a long knife. Surprisingly, it was similar in design as her finest work. Searching for her water barrel, she cursed to herself and swiftly opened a cask that was left unattended and plunged it in.
She coughed as steam rose in the air and stared as she saw for a moment what was exactly in the cask. It held the last of the dragon's blood water she had used so long ago. As she held the blade in the liquid, the red was purified like before and turned clear.
"What in the world?" she croaked and held the dripping blade out. She could see vague runes on the silver surface before one half turned black and the other white. "A companion, eh? I'll have to find an owner for you." Weary but so elated, she then fainted.
Waking up in her tent, she smiled at the one who kept watch, her eldest granddaughter and the firstborn among all her cousins and siblings.
"Grandmother," she said breathlessly, leaning toward Raven.
"Hush, child, it is my time to go, the gods are calling to me," Raven whispered, stroking the girl's hair. "But I leave you two things."
The girl nodded, though a trace of tears were in her eyes. "What are they?"
"Open my chest over there, the big one," she instructed.
Her granddaughter's eyes widened. "But, we aren't supposed to touch it…"
"Never mind that, open it and pull out whatever is inside." The girl did so and pulled out the Eye of the Dragon.
Raven smiled faintly. She had gotten a proper sheath and belt for the thing as well as setting gems in the sockets of the hilt.
"Grandmother, this is beautiful," the girl breathed.
"Isn't it? Now go to my forge and pick up the short sword on the ground, you can't miss it. Hurry."
The girl nodded and hurried off, soon returning with Raven's latest work. "Why do you want this?"
"Children need to listen, not question. I want you to have the both of these, you deserve them. Make sure that they never go into the wrong hands, do you understand?"
"I do, Grandmother."
"Sweet child," Raven chuckled. "Just like the flower you were named after… The gods call me, Lily, I must bid farewell to this life soon."
"Grandmother Raven," Lily whispered.
"Ah, child, life and death is a cycle, do not worry, I live on in your heart. Now help me get over to my loom, I need to finish the weaving upon it."
"Alright." The girl helped her to the instrument, the rug upon it almost finished. Sitting down, Raven chose a few threads in her fine boned, rough hands and started to weave, calling the magic of her memories and binding them into the fabric.
"Yes, whoever bears both blades will be destined for greatness," she murmured, chuckling to herself as she finished the last knot…
Iori blinked, brought back to reality and feeling a trace of tears in his eyes.
"That memory rug is rather depressing at times," Koushiro sighed, stretching out stiff muscles.
"But it is important," Ruki pointed out candidly as she rolled it up and leaned it against a wall. "Raven was a strong willed and very wise woman, as well as a talented mage."
"I feel so sorry for her," Iori said softly.
"Don't, she survived through the rape much better than one could imagine," Ruki said, adjusting her burnoose.
Iori blinked again and nodded. Koushiro chuckled. "How was your first experience in using a memory weaving, my apprentice?"
"It was very… inspiring, master," Iori chose his words carefully.
"Inspiring, yes, true, I remember when I first saw this memory," Koushiro mused.
"Yes, you nearly became infatuated with Raven before I reminded you that she lived over several thousand centuries ago," Ruki snorted, something much like amusement in her eyes.
Iori raised an eyebrow as the red haired shaman blushed. "I was much younger then…"
"Off the subject," Ruki said crisply. "We need to decide whether or not to allow them to approach the temple and to take the sword."
"I say we allow them," Koushiro said mildly. "But the blue haired one needs a lesson in manners."
Ruki had an evil grin. "I know who to send then to deliver the message. If only I could go myself." She laughed.
"Who are you going to send?" Koushiro smiled, his hands steepled.
"Most likely Estelle, she's competent and can be very frightening if you don't know her. You know where they rest?"
Koushiro nodded. "At the inn and tavern that we usually deal with, the White Rose."
"Ah, Estelle knows that place like the back of her hand, she'll get the job done."
"Are you sure about this, master?" Iori asked softly.
"Yes, Iori, both of them, they have a scent about them, and I saw the one with the brown hair with a long knife that had a familiar aura to it."
"Surely you do not mean?" Ruki got up quickly.
"Yes, the sister sword of the Eye of the Dragon is back again, along with the one of the night and the one of flame." Koushiro paused for a moment.
Iori took a deep breath. Already were prophecies and legends coming true! What else?
Ruki shrugged. "I will organize everything for them. You talk to some of the tribes in the areas they are going to pass through and make sure they are watched, but not attacked."
"Yes," Koushiro bowed elegantly as Ruki snorted.
Iori stifled a yawn. Ruki saw him and said, "It is getting late. You and your apprentice may stay here for the night, Shaman, and leave for the plains in the morning."
"I thank you," Koushiro nodded. "But I will take liberty of your library for now, if it is alright with you…"
She lightly slapped him on the shoulder. "Go on, you devourer of parchment and ink. Direct your apprentice to one of the guest dormitories though before you get too lost among the glory of the written word."
Koushiro chuckled and walked off, Iori in tow.
Davis woke up to find a brief light burning in the room and a figure hovering over Ken's bed. His instincts flared and he would have rushed over if the figure didn't turn to him and motion to him that he, she, or it did not mean any harm. Then the figure walked to him and slipped a pouch into his hands, and then winked at him gravely with a bright blue eye above a face masked with a veil. Going over to Ken's bed one last time, the figure then disappeared, the light gone.
"What, in hell, was that?" Ken demanded, sitting up and looking shaken.
"I have no clue," Davis replied truthfully and lit a candle.
He shook the contents of the pouch onto a table and examined them. A slim roll of parchment, a brass key, and two medallions lay upon the wooden surface. Ken picked up one of the medallions, seeing it was engraved with an image of a dragon.
"Interesting," he commented mildly. "So why does an intruder come here, threaten me with a knife, then just gives you these?"
"I'm not sure, but it's most likely a good omen." Davis unrolled the parchment and found a map of the plains they were to go through, with marks for water and shelter on it, as well as a marked area. "Good gods."
Ken picked up the other medallion and stared. "Davis, we've just been given invitation to roam the plains freely, under the protection of the Hsu Mai."
"You're kidding me," the other boy's jaw dropped in surprise.
"Be damned if I am. It appears Lady Fortune is on our side." Ken was referring to the goddess many thieves worshiped, a light-fingered woman with a fickle mind.
Davis snorted. "I'd thank whatever gods the Hsu Mai worship."
Ken ran a hand through his blue locks and sighed deeply. "We need to get some sleep, put out the candle, Davis."
Davis shrugged, shoving back the contents of the pouch into it again and blowing out the light.
~*~
"Hello?"
"Is it really you?"
"Yes, it is me, please, it's time to go home. We all missed you."
"I must stay here, I am the prophetess. It is my duty to stay here."
"No, I left you once and I will never do it again."
"Please, danger fast approaches, leave while you still have the chance."
"I will never leave you."
A laugh interrupted the hushed conversation. "How touching…"
"Run! I'll hold them off. Get out of here now."
"It's useless and you know it, come along peacefully and she will not be hurt."
A sword clattered to the ground. "Alright." Then there was a hoarse grunt and the sound of a body falling to the ground.
"Get the both of them back to the fortress. There are only a few left to go."
A/N: Warning, this chapter will have some references to rape, not graphic, but just a caution.
Shaman Koushiro of the k'Tora clan smiled briefly from beneath the shadow of his plain brown cowl. His apprentice shaman, Iori, looked up, his face also covered by a rough hood of his own. The two Hsu Mai silently got up and slipped out the door of the inn. Hurrying through the now mostly dark streets, both were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Going through a maze of streets, Koushiro tapped a door softly, murmuring something in code. The door silently slid open, revealing a young woman clad in deep purple, the hue so dark that it seemed almost black. She wore a loose burnoose colored the same shade to cover her head as a makeshift hood. A few strands of red- gold hair peeked out of the hood however as she observed them with unblinking cool violet eyes.
Iori blinked, looking at the woman. She reminded him vaguely of a high priestess-warrior of the Hsu Mai, though they of that order typically only wore plain, earth tones in their clothing. Red or black was only for certain rituals and in times of vengeance.
"I was expecting you, Shaman," she said softly and beckoned them in.
After they stepped in, she shut the door silently behind them. Leading them into a room comfortably furnished with cushions and rugs, she gestured to a low table in the center, with three flat sitting cushions by it. Three porcelain teacups were set upside down on the table as well as a ceramic teapot, with a black iron kettle on a brass brazier by the table. They sat down as she poured tea for all of them.
Dictating polite etiquette in the occasion, they bowed to one another before drinking a long draught from their handless cups. Setting down his own cup, Koushiro nodded to the woman, inhaling the sweet, spicy scent of the tea.
"Thank you, Ruki," he said quietly.
"It is my pleasure, Koushiro," she responded, pouring more into his cup. She nodded toward Iori. "And who may this be?"
"My apprentice Iori. Iori, this is Ruki, High Priestess of the Avenger Goddess."
"It is an honor to meet you," the boy said gravely, bowing politely to her.
She graced him with a faint trace of a smile. "A prodigy of yours, Koushiro?"
The Shaman chuckled. "I suppose you may say that, Ruki."
He took off his cloak, revealing breeches and a vest colored in shades of forest green and embroidered in saffron yellows, as well as a loose, long- sleeved shirt of light green, with bands of embroidery on the cuffs. The only sign of his title was a necklace consisting of a silver claw set with a single emerald on the top hung on a fine silver chain. Beneath the cowl, there was a young man with a shock of red hair and sparkling, knowledgeable jet black eyes.
Iori followed his example, revealing similar clothing as his master only colored in soft purples and grays. His emerald green eyes looked around, solemn and holding wisdom from below bangs of light brown hair.
"Now, I know that this isn't a visit for pleasantries," Ruki glanced at the both of them. "Have you sensed certain strangers? One with hair the color of mahogany wood and the other with hair the hue of the sky right after sunset?"
"We saw them, they are staying at the inn," Koushiro said evenly. "Apparently one of them is a thief and the other was a former, long ago. The one with blue locks is rather arrogant, but good at heart. They are both on a quest for the Eye of the Dragon."
The woman's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "And shall we let them pass through?"
"That I thought you should determine."
"No, no, I am not doing divination," she stated flatly, glaring.
"I wasn't asking you to, Ruki."
"Then what do you want?"
Koushiro took a long sip of his tea, musing. "Can you pull out some of those old scrolls? The ones on the prophecies?"
Ruki chuckled darkly. "And I expected something difficult. A moment." She got up and disappeared before reappearing with a stack of papers and scrolls.
Iori stared at the mass as she gently set them down on a table that had not been there before. "That many?"
"Listen and learn, young one," she scolded him gently before rummaging around and handing Koushiro a particular scroll. "This may be the one you're looking for."
He accepted it and unrolled it, muttering odd fragments of information. "One of the night and one of the flame… they will… Destined for Eye of the Dragon…"
Iori took a cup of tea as he watched, thoughtfulness in his green eyes. Ruki looked at him for a moment before getting up and disappearing again to put the remaining papers away. She returned with a rolled carpet tucked under her arm.
"I found it finally," she informed Koushiro tartly. "I think you may be interested in this."
The priestess unrolled the carpet before them on a clear area of the floor. Iori blinked as he gazed at it. It was simple, with seemingly random patterns woven into it in different colors, mostly in shades of blue, gold, and silver. But as he searched through it, he could see images flitting through the material just out of the corner of his eyes. The apprentice mused and sensed an aura of old magic about it.
"You found it?" Koushiro asked, sounding half incredulous, half relieved.
Ruki nodded. "I had to search around for it for some time, mind. You know what to do, but I am not sure about your apprentice." She nodded toward Iori.
"I am ready to learn, if it is alright," the boy said carefully, in his usual quiet voice.
"It is quite simple," Koushiro said, amused. "Concentrate on the carpet and touch it, lightly, this is an old weaving."
Iori nodded and touched the cloth carefully, blinking as he looked out of another's eyes, thinking another's thoughts, and felt another's emotions.
The smith labored on in the forge. Rather unusual was this scene, for one, the building was well stocked as well as with finished and half finished works stored around, the Hsu Mai were strictly weavers, traders, and breeders of dogs and horses as well as nomadic, and two, the smith was a woman. Sweat trickled in her eyes as her brown hair fought the tie and pins that confined it as Raven k'Osarah continued her work, ignoring it stubbornly. Nothing must stop this, she thought sternly slightly weary from the spell weaving and forging she had done over the period of the last few weeks (or was it more like years?).
No matter, she rested her iron will, as hard as the metal she forged, in continuing the work. What she was creating was a master blade, the one single prize creation every artisan creates at the peak of his or her skills. Picking up a fine chisel, she started to scratch protective symbols and spells onto the red hot metal carefully. They flared brightly, and then faded as she thrust the blade into a barrel of a strange liquid that bubbled occasionally, and was colored a rich red, almost like wine, or blood. She whispered the last words to the spell she created specially in the creation of this blade.
Not for one moment did she dare imagine what would happen if it failed. If she was lucky, the magic would escape from the sword and she would have to start again within two years. If she were not lucky, she would be hit by the backlash of spells on her body, which would either kill her or leave only an empty shell of a body. As the last word escaped her dry, cracked lips, the sword flared white, the sacred metal she used to create the blade glowing brightly with the intensity of a star on Earth even through the liquid she dipped the sword in.
Numbly, she stared, although she had known what the results would be if she succeeded. The liquid turned clear, all taints of red gone.
"Goddess," she whispered, making the sacred sign. "Purifying dragon blood water…"
As she pulled the still glowing sword out of the barrel, she could see that one side was darker than the other, starting to darken to jet-black while the other was pure white. Raven held the splendid blade in her hands, perfectly balanced. The hilt was plain, except for empty sockets at the pommel and the top of the hilt.
She murmured softly, as if someone were controlling her words, "I name thee the Eye of the Dragon."
~*~
"A fine blade," the sorcerer looked at her with an approving look. She had cleaned up after she had forged the blade and not a moment after she had finished dressing in fresh clothing; she already had a client who wished for the blade.
"I thank you," she said calmly, modestly. Best not to sound too proud, but she would not let go of this piece easily.
"I will pay you well for this," the man said. He was dressed in simple mage robes of dark burgundy, split for riding and banded in black. Well groomed and with mane of sandy hair flecked with gray, his brown eyes looked at her. For some mysterious reason, he made her skin crawl vaguely.
"That will have to be negotiated," Raven answered smoothly. "But if you wish to see the blade, I have it."
As she pulled it out, she felt an odd singing from the blade, like one of protest. The man examined it in its sheath, pulling out the blade for a moment before returning it. Taking it back quickly, the smith mage nodded curtly to the man before returning to her tent to have some rest.
After a long period of haggling and negotiating, Raven finally refused the man to purchase the blade, deciding it was best if she kept it because that lurking feeling she had around him increased.
His eyes had flashed as he said politely that if it were her wish, he would respect it. Suspicious, she hid the blade carefully from the eyes of magic and physical.
The smith mage strolled along the streets of one of the trading stops her people often went to in trading expeditions. She had already purchased the raw materials that she needed and some gifts for her friends and family. Raven sighed as a stray breeze ruffled her hair, bored out of her skull.
"Ah, Mage Raven, what a pleasant surprise," a voice said and she turned to face the mage who had offered to buy her sword a few weeks ago.
"Yes it is, Mage-" She searched for his name swiftly, recalling she had wished all memory of him gone but still he lingered, and found it. "Drakewind. How unexpected to find you here."
"Of course." He kissed her hand. "May I buy you a drink?"
She hesitated then nodded. "That would be wonderful, thank you."
"And I would like to talk to you about something," the man said, eyes gleaming. "Care to join me in my room here?"
The warrior's instincts that were embedded within Raven were screaming but she shrugged and answered, "Yes."
Later they settled in his room and he offered her a goblet of wine. She took it, swirling it in its vessel. He drank his down and manners dictated she do the same. Swiftly, she gulped it down, feeling the cool sweet liquid pour down her throat and into her stomach.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked politely.
"About your craft, it is so unusual for smiths to practice both magic and smithing at the same time." He smiled at her and poured her another cup of wine. "Much less for a woman to be doing the craft."
She shrugged carelessly. "I have a gift for it and my people believe that if one has a certain talent, they should use it, regardless of gender."
"And yet while being a smith, you retain so much beauty…" His voice trailed off.
Her skin crawled as she got up slowly. "I thank you for the drink and the compliment but I must leave, I will be missed."
"Please, just for one more glass," Drakewind persuaded.
He turned his back as he picked up the forgotten cup she had left. A swift movement she was unable to see him perform before he gave her to cup. She delicately sipped it, smelling a sweet, incense like scent with traces of spices within the liquid as her tongue tasted honey sweet liquor, and set it down. "Now I must leave."
But she felt suddenly disoriented and oddly sleepy. He gently took her arm and led her back into the room. "You look odd, perhaps you should rest."
"No, I must, my family…" she struggled, but a gray fog was clouding her mind and his voice soothed her.
"Just relax, that's a good mage, Raven. You just need some rest."
"No, my…" But a dim blurriness filled her vision and she saw him bending over her with a wicked smile before she sunk into a dim world that was then suddenly filled with pain.
She woke up later with a dull pain in her abdomen and her arms restrained. Coughing, she tasted blood on her lips. Somehow she felt unclean. Then she saw the remains of her clothes and silently wept. He had raped her. Raven then shoved aside the fear and anxiety as murderous thoughts ran through her mind. Muttering a quick spell, she burned through the ropes, fire magic being part of her gift of smith magic. She whipped around as a mocking laugh came nearby.
"You are so easy to fool, nomad," the mage laughed.
"I'm not your whore," Raven hissed, anger burning any fear in her mind. "And you were cowardly enough to drug me then rape me, you son of a bitch."
She was angry, no, this emotion was deeper than anger. This man had the indecency to rape her and the cowardice to drug her before doing so. She faced him as her lips moved in a spell that only few of her generation ever did in their lifetimes… and survived.
Calling on powers ones more powerful had failed to master, she fueled it with her anger, her grief, and her fear, forcing herself to recall dim memories of what had happened to her. A sword of fire appeared in her hands and in a single movement she leapt forward and impaled him through with it. His blood dripped onto the floor in a crimson stream and as he died, his face was filled with disbelief and fear as his eyes continued to look toward her. Disgusted, she then watched dimly as the sword disappeared. In a daze, she snatched up a cloak and stormed out. Later was the time to weep and to mourn the loss of her virginity, but it was more imperative for her to find her kin. The last bit of rage stayed in her heart for all men like him, embedded in her heart forever.
~*~
Raven sighed. She was old, and getting no younger by the day. Smiling at one of her granddaughters, she then trudged off to the forge to do some more work. The Healers and her relatives complained but she wouldn't listen. She bound back her silver hair neatly as she snatched up a piece of metal. On some impulse, she sang the rudimentary phrases of the same spell she used to forge the Eye of the Dragon. The metal seemed to form itself as she sang on, her voice, harsh with age and from breathing smoke, sounded as pure as it had when she was an apprentice smith. It formed into a handsome blade, not quite a short sword and a little too long to be a long knife. Surprisingly, it was similar in design as her finest work. Searching for her water barrel, she cursed to herself and swiftly opened a cask that was left unattended and plunged it in.
She coughed as steam rose in the air and stared as she saw for a moment what was exactly in the cask. It held the last of the dragon's blood water she had used so long ago. As she held the blade in the liquid, the red was purified like before and turned clear.
"What in the world?" she croaked and held the dripping blade out. She could see vague runes on the silver surface before one half turned black and the other white. "A companion, eh? I'll have to find an owner for you." Weary but so elated, she then fainted.
Waking up in her tent, she smiled at the one who kept watch, her eldest granddaughter and the firstborn among all her cousins and siblings.
"Grandmother," she said breathlessly, leaning toward Raven.
"Hush, child, it is my time to go, the gods are calling to me," Raven whispered, stroking the girl's hair. "But I leave you two things."
The girl nodded, though a trace of tears were in her eyes. "What are they?"
"Open my chest over there, the big one," she instructed.
Her granddaughter's eyes widened. "But, we aren't supposed to touch it…"
"Never mind that, open it and pull out whatever is inside." The girl did so and pulled out the Eye of the Dragon.
Raven smiled faintly. She had gotten a proper sheath and belt for the thing as well as setting gems in the sockets of the hilt.
"Grandmother, this is beautiful," the girl breathed.
"Isn't it? Now go to my forge and pick up the short sword on the ground, you can't miss it. Hurry."
The girl nodded and hurried off, soon returning with Raven's latest work. "Why do you want this?"
"Children need to listen, not question. I want you to have the both of these, you deserve them. Make sure that they never go into the wrong hands, do you understand?"
"I do, Grandmother."
"Sweet child," Raven chuckled. "Just like the flower you were named after… The gods call me, Lily, I must bid farewell to this life soon."
"Grandmother Raven," Lily whispered.
"Ah, child, life and death is a cycle, do not worry, I live on in your heart. Now help me get over to my loom, I need to finish the weaving upon it."
"Alright." The girl helped her to the instrument, the rug upon it almost finished. Sitting down, Raven chose a few threads in her fine boned, rough hands and started to weave, calling the magic of her memories and binding them into the fabric.
"Yes, whoever bears both blades will be destined for greatness," she murmured, chuckling to herself as she finished the last knot…
Iori blinked, brought back to reality and feeling a trace of tears in his eyes.
"That memory rug is rather depressing at times," Koushiro sighed, stretching out stiff muscles.
"But it is important," Ruki pointed out candidly as she rolled it up and leaned it against a wall. "Raven was a strong willed and very wise woman, as well as a talented mage."
"I feel so sorry for her," Iori said softly.
"Don't, she survived through the rape much better than one could imagine," Ruki said, adjusting her burnoose.
Iori blinked again and nodded. Koushiro chuckled. "How was your first experience in using a memory weaving, my apprentice?"
"It was very… inspiring, master," Iori chose his words carefully.
"Inspiring, yes, true, I remember when I first saw this memory," Koushiro mused.
"Yes, you nearly became infatuated with Raven before I reminded you that she lived over several thousand centuries ago," Ruki snorted, something much like amusement in her eyes.
Iori raised an eyebrow as the red haired shaman blushed. "I was much younger then…"
"Off the subject," Ruki said crisply. "We need to decide whether or not to allow them to approach the temple and to take the sword."
"I say we allow them," Koushiro said mildly. "But the blue haired one needs a lesson in manners."
Ruki had an evil grin. "I know who to send then to deliver the message. If only I could go myself." She laughed.
"Who are you going to send?" Koushiro smiled, his hands steepled.
"Most likely Estelle, she's competent and can be very frightening if you don't know her. You know where they rest?"
Koushiro nodded. "At the inn and tavern that we usually deal with, the White Rose."
"Ah, Estelle knows that place like the back of her hand, she'll get the job done."
"Are you sure about this, master?" Iori asked softly.
"Yes, Iori, both of them, they have a scent about them, and I saw the one with the brown hair with a long knife that had a familiar aura to it."
"Surely you do not mean?" Ruki got up quickly.
"Yes, the sister sword of the Eye of the Dragon is back again, along with the one of the night and the one of flame." Koushiro paused for a moment.
Iori took a deep breath. Already were prophecies and legends coming true! What else?
Ruki shrugged. "I will organize everything for them. You talk to some of the tribes in the areas they are going to pass through and make sure they are watched, but not attacked."
"Yes," Koushiro bowed elegantly as Ruki snorted.
Iori stifled a yawn. Ruki saw him and said, "It is getting late. You and your apprentice may stay here for the night, Shaman, and leave for the plains in the morning."
"I thank you," Koushiro nodded. "But I will take liberty of your library for now, if it is alright with you…"
She lightly slapped him on the shoulder. "Go on, you devourer of parchment and ink. Direct your apprentice to one of the guest dormitories though before you get too lost among the glory of the written word."
Koushiro chuckled and walked off, Iori in tow.
Davis woke up to find a brief light burning in the room and a figure hovering over Ken's bed. His instincts flared and he would have rushed over if the figure didn't turn to him and motion to him that he, she, or it did not mean any harm. Then the figure walked to him and slipped a pouch into his hands, and then winked at him gravely with a bright blue eye above a face masked with a veil. Going over to Ken's bed one last time, the figure then disappeared, the light gone.
"What, in hell, was that?" Ken demanded, sitting up and looking shaken.
"I have no clue," Davis replied truthfully and lit a candle.
He shook the contents of the pouch onto a table and examined them. A slim roll of parchment, a brass key, and two medallions lay upon the wooden surface. Ken picked up one of the medallions, seeing it was engraved with an image of a dragon.
"Interesting," he commented mildly. "So why does an intruder come here, threaten me with a knife, then just gives you these?"
"I'm not sure, but it's most likely a good omen." Davis unrolled the parchment and found a map of the plains they were to go through, with marks for water and shelter on it, as well as a marked area. "Good gods."
Ken picked up the other medallion and stared. "Davis, we've just been given invitation to roam the plains freely, under the protection of the Hsu Mai."
"You're kidding me," the other boy's jaw dropped in surprise.
"Be damned if I am. It appears Lady Fortune is on our side." Ken was referring to the goddess many thieves worshiped, a light-fingered woman with a fickle mind.
Davis snorted. "I'd thank whatever gods the Hsu Mai worship."
Ken ran a hand through his blue locks and sighed deeply. "We need to get some sleep, put out the candle, Davis."
Davis shrugged, shoving back the contents of the pouch into it again and blowing out the light.
~*~
"Hello?"
"Is it really you?"
"Yes, it is me, please, it's time to go home. We all missed you."
"I must stay here, I am the prophetess. It is my duty to stay here."
"No, I left you once and I will never do it again."
"Please, danger fast approaches, leave while you still have the chance."
"I will never leave you."
A laugh interrupted the hushed conversation. "How touching…"
"Run! I'll hold them off. Get out of here now."
"It's useless and you know it, come along peacefully and she will not be hurt."
A sword clattered to the ground. "Alright." Then there was a hoarse grunt and the sound of a body falling to the ground.
"Get the both of them back to the fortress. There are only a few left to go."
