Tainted Souls, Tainted Swords

Chapter Fourteen: Distant Travelers

Two hundred miles from the Italian-Austrian border, Sophitia slept on her side, wrapped up tightly in thick blanket to protect her from the cold mountain air. She used the saddle bag with her gear as a makeshift pillow. Between the saddle bag and the ground lay her sword and shield, which her hands never left and they never quite relaxed. Not entirely.

Her white stallion, likewise, slept with a blanket across its form after the exhaustive run, which would be repeated again tomorrow and the following day. Already she had raced north several days through the mountains, and would continue to race with as few stops and pauses as her and her animal could afford. By tomorrow afternoon, she expected to clear the mountains and then it was a matter of tracking her old ally.

"Hephaestus will guide me to her," she told herself over and over, knowing Taki only as a vague blur in her memory from seven years ago – when hurt as badly as she was from the shattering of Cervantes' sword, one doesn't have the luxury of proper introductions or conscious dedication to memory. "He has to - why else would he show me these things . . . unless?" No, the visions came from Haphaestus. Who or what else would send them to her? And Sophitia had convinced herself, "Then the Gods will lead me to Cassy." And finally, to Soul Edge.

A wave of chills passed down her spine and rippled through the rest of her slender body. Not from the temperature nor the winds at this altitude, rather from the visions that haunted her subconscious. Every night – she saw hundreds upon hundreds of bodies hung helplessly in an immense spider web, all struggling against their sticky bindings to get free; however, they made no progress. And yet, there was one who did not fight. One with her head lowered, bloodshot eyes and damp cheeks with tear tracks . . . and Sophitia's heart always sank at this point in the dream, for Taki had given up.

"I'm coming!" Sophitia heard herself crying out, and in her mind she desperately sought out the answer to an overwhelming question – what could bring this hardened warrior to such a hopeless end? And could she, herself, face down this same monstrosity? After all, wasn't it this Japanese woman who saved her from Cervantes seven years ago? Wasn't the ninja stronger? And if so, what did this Greek ex-warrior hope she could do—

'Nevermind! Don't think that way, Sophitia! You're strong too. You'll come through . . . you owe it to her.'

Laughter echoed through the dark abyss of the dream, and a monstrous spider descended from the black infinite emptiness of oblivion. The laughter took on the form of a deep voice that taunted, insulted, and belittled the helpless and hopeless ninja. And as it spoke, the spider devoured the other victims in the web. One by one, slowly so their screams echoed to eternity and back again.

"Take me!" The ninja would cry out, "Leave them alone! Spare them! Take me instead!"

But the monster would not.

And the dream would cut short here. Most nights, it would continue as Sophitia sprinted towards the scene, but getting to Taki meant climbing the web. This dream world had no alternative – there was the web and there was emptiness. She'd hold her breath and start climbing the sticky strands, but it didn't take long before the inevitable. She was trapped too, completely immobilized in the spider's domain. And sensing a new presence, the monster moved to her, drowning Sophitia in the darkness of its shadow. It glared down through its arachnid eyes, and somehow she sensed a smile from it.

"Soul Edge has told me about you as well!" the words boomed forth with enough volume to echo endlessly in the nothingness. However, the part that truly disturbed Sophitia was the faint laughter she heard beneath . . . the laughter of a woman whose voice sounded distantly familiar.

But something was different tonight – she awoke prematurely for some reason. She felt a divine impulse to roll onto her back and bring her sword and shield up and just as she did she blocked the oversized circular blade. Instinctively, Sophitia kicked upward and felt her foot connect with her attacker's midsection. A second later, the Greek woman rolled to the side and hopped to her feet – sword and shield ready for battle as she uttered a quiet, "Thank you, Haphaestus."

And now she had a good look at her attacker, a woman in tight green patched clothes with bluish-green hair. The eyes were of a killer, but the voice belonged to a child. "Hi."

The contrast caught Sophitia off guard, causing her to visibly hesitate. "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Tira. What's your name?" but the woman would follow up her friendly and cheerful introduction with an onslaught of deadly attacks, twirling the oversized chakram with ballet grace and assassin's precision. And indeed, the contradiction of ice-breaker conversation juxtapose to killer intentions made Sophitia hesitate, she barely had time to block with her shield and forgot about the bag full of supplies on the ground behind her.

Retreating into them, Sophitia tripped and to her horror fell backwards. And Tira did not let up. The ring blade came around time and time again with more force than she would have thought this little girl was capable of dishing out; were it not for her shield Sophitia would have been reduced to ribbons in a flash. The shield was her salvation, and Sophitia held to it with a death grip. On pure defense as she struggled to once again rise to her feet.

"What do you want?" Sophitia challenged, "Who sent you?"

"Why must there always be reasons and people in charge?" Like a school girl, Tira giggled, and she never ceased her attack. "It's not like I have the company of like minded people in this world. Too full of morals and good."

Still playing defensive, still blocking the ever-moving ring blade, Sophitia watched Tira's movements and got a feel for her timing. One more question – "Why are you attacking me?"

"Because . . ." and suddenly the cheerfulness, the hyperactive little girl seemed to vanish and in her place was a hardened killer. Her whole body spun to put extra power into this blow, to get that damn shield out of the way – that thing was making this way harder than it should have been. The ring blade struck the shield with enough force to throw Sophitia momentarily off balance, and knock the shield to the side. " . . . I can!"

Then with intentions of finishing off the Greek, Tira instantly reversed directions of her ring blade to take Sophitia's head off. And though the shield was in no position to block, Sophitia's sword did just fine and deflected the ring blade into the dirt.

"Damnit!" Tira swore, "You are really—"

And then Sophitia gave Tira even more reason to hate the shield by smashing the assassin's face with it. She immediately followed it up with a vertical swipe as the stunned Tira stepped back. The sword made a shallow cut that did more damage to Tira's top than her flesh, but it served its purpose. Sophi didn't want to kill this girl if she didn't have to . . . she was disturbed, no doubt, and dangerous, but maybe death wasn't the answer. Maybe the Gods could help her . . .

"Yield," Sophitia commanded, "You're hurt and you don't have a chance now. I don't want to kill you, but if you force me to strike again it will be fatal."

Tira turned her back to Sophitia, cradling the shallow cut across her torso with the ring blade still in hand. Stillness except for their heavy breathing, stillness for several minutes, and then the young assassin looked over her shoulder with hatred in her eyes. The hatred of a creature deeply offended, a creature that had sworn vengeance – but for what? Sophitia had never seen her before in her life!

"I'll get you," Tira's tone was dark, brooding, and venomous, as she probed for an achilles heel. Something to provoke her into attacking blindly, something had to set her off, "You and your friends . . . your family—"

Stepping forward, sword pointed at her opponent, Sophitia demanded, "Who are you!"

Tira sensed she had touched a nerve on the word "family." She smiled, the wicked smile of a villainess, and made a jump in logic (hoping it would pay off), ". . . your children."

On that word, "children", Sophitia lost control. No one had threatened her family directly before . . . not quite like this anyway. Her sword plunged for Tira's heart, riding the protective nature of maternal instinct. Right into Tira's trap – the assassin easily deflected the rage-induced attack, and twirled the Ring blade into position to once again slice Sophitia's throat . . . but the shield intervened.

A stream of profanity's entered Tira's head as she pushed Sophitia away and retreated. She pointed her weapon at Sophitia and vowed, "But first I'm going to get rid of that frickin' shield!" And then immediately Tira turned and ran into the night, calling out the finale of her threat, "Then you're mine!"

Sophitia stopped herself from following, and just stood there watching the assassin disappear into the distance. Fire ran through her veins. She could have killed that girl without mercy, without remorse, not out of duty or a sense of destiny (even if Hephaestus said "Thou shalt not kill!"). That girl threatened everything dear to her – everything – and it sent her into a frenzy. Only minutes ago she considered trying to help this misguided creature however she could, merely subdue her and try to reach her. No one was beyond hope.

But now those thoughts were completely forgotten. Now, Sophitia found herself whispering to no one, "The next time we see each other will also be the last." Full of adrenaline, with the raging emotions after that girl who threatened her family, Sophitia knew returning to sleep was futile. She broke camp, gathered her things, woke her weary animal, and started down the trail again whispering a vow that Tira couldn't hear, "As long as I'm alive, I won't let you hurt those close to me . . ."

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The problem with being thrown overboard, the Koreans discovered, in addition to the obvious set back was the fact they once again had to raise money and gather supplies for the long trip back to Korea. This time, in a country where they might conceivably have a price on their heads.

Fortunately, no one seemed to give them any trouble. Unfortunately, apparently a disaster struck North and to the West, and some entrepreneur had taken all the spare animals to profit on some city-wide exodus, leaving Mina and Yunsung to continue their journey on foot (much to their dismay.)

Sueng Mina walked side by side with Yunsung, using Scarlet Thunder as her walking stick and the boy as her pack mule. White Storm still slung across her back, and she happily told anecdotes about her previous journey to find Soul Edge and how Hwang had dragged her back kicking, screaming, and pouting.

Yunsung laughed at her story, then commented, "And you say I'm bad?"

"You are bad." Mina countered, her voice holding no spite. Rather, just playfully teasing him, "You're way worse than I ever was. Trust me."

"You just said Hwang had to carry you—"

"As if I could pick you up!" From venomous arguments, to sibling-like bickering. It felt good, actually. And deep down in her thoughts, Mina quietly entertained the idea of hunting up the Sword of Salvation together with Yunsung – not so much to take back to Korea for the war, rather so they could see for themselves if the sword was indeed, the blade of darkness known as Soul Edge. Even though Taki had warned them against it, Mina's curiosity tugged at her.

"Weird," she commented.

"What's that?"

Quietly she gulped, just now realizing that she spoke aloud. "Oh nothing." The thought remained though – it's strange how her feelings on pursuing Soul Edge fluctuated with her level of frustration with Yunsung. 'Am I really that immature that I argued with him just because he irritated me?' she silently asked, then sighed. 'I really haven't grown up, much.'

Yunsung looked over at his traveling companions, their eyes met. And even though Seung Mina smiled, Yunsung sensed a sadness there. Her gaze then returned to the road ahead where she cocked her head to the side and squinted to see something far off in the distance. Without stopping, he turned his head to look too and saw a band of dozen soldiers (give or take a few) in full plate armor, riding on horseback in formation around a carriage heading for them.

"Think we should hide?" Yunsung casually asked, wanting to get out of this country so his heart could stop racing at every passing stranger.

Mina shook her head, "Nah. They look like escorts, not bounty hunters." Besides, they couldn't exactly go anywhere without attracting more attention. Spontaneously diving into a bush tends to look suspicious. Between all the armored soldiers, one was bound to have spotted them already. "Just act casual."

'What if they're escorting that noble from the River Arena?' Yunsung asked in his mind, but didn't bother to say it. He just continued walking, chatting with Mina. And he noticed a subtle tension in her voice, in her body language, that she shared the same concern.

Several minutes passed, and the sound of the hooves falling upon the earth, of heavy wheels grinding a rut into the path, grew louder and louder until it drowned out their conversation. Rather than shouting, both just fell silent and moved off the road so the soldier's could pass. The Koreans held their breath . . .

And to their horror, the symphony of noise from a carriage and entourage of guards came to a quiet conclusion as they stopped. Likewise, the Koreans stopped, Mina turned so Yunsung could draw the sword from her back while she gripped Scarlet Thunder tightly enough to turn her knuckles white.

"Is that her?" One of the guards asked, drawing his sword. Another guard – apparently the leader, judging by his armor – eyed Mina closely before shaking his head.

"Where are you two headed?" he said.

Yunsung was compelled to answer "None of your business," but he quietly congratulated himself for refraining, answering with a statement less likely to start a fight: "East."

"Back home," Mina added.

To both Korean's surprise, he nodded and gestured for his fellow soldiers to put their swords away. "You might consider another route," he stated, "or at the very least a cloak or something to hide your faces. There's a witch hunt under way in the direction you're headed."

"Witch hunt?" Mina and Yunsung said in unison, not quite sure how this connects to them.

"Soul Edge is loose in these parts, but the locals would rather call it the work of a devil worshipper. She's been identified as a Japanese woman wearing red," and the captain of the guard glared up the road, "which, unfortunately, translates to everything that doesn't look European will be arrested, tried, and executed assuming you're not killed outright."

Ah, the joys of paranoia and outrage – the thought of being burned at the stake because masses believed justice meant killing hundreds of suspects just to execute one criminal. Mina nodded appreciatively, "Thanks for the warning."

Then the escorts and the carriage started to move again, and Mina and Yunsung couldn't help but feel the icy glare and unfounded hatred of the rear guards who looked as though they'd be content to leave these foreigners dead at the side of the road.

As they walked in the other direction, Yunsung couldn't help but ask, "What do you think?" Something about the soldier's words didn't set well with him.

"I dunno. Last I heard Soul Edge was North of here." But based on her experience in the past, this information was unverifiable and virtually useless. "What he said could be true – Soul Edge is hard to track because its destruction is never a straight line. It just seems to hit random places across the continent." Or in other words, even if the sword was responsible it's probably long gone already.

"I meant about the Japanese woman. Do you think it's that ninja?"

Something in Seung Mina's soul confirmed it was, but she didn't want to believe it. "Don't be ridiculous, Yunsung – there's more than one Japanese woman in Europe, and I'll bet every one of them has at least one red outfit." They, themselves, might be part of the minority in this land and they very well may stick out in a crowd of Europeans, but there were other Koreans around.

They walked in silence. Mina's voice clearly resonated with her own doubts, but Yunsung didn't push that tangent. He did, however, have one last question on his mind, "So where are we heading?"

A sigh escaped Mina's lungs, a frustrated sigh, but the frustration wasn't directed at her traveling companion. Rather, it came from her own conflicting thoughts.

"Mina?"

"We're going home, Yunsung." She answered, forcing the words out of her mouth, but her curiosity would ultimately win a compromise. "But, if Soul Edge or the Sword of Salvation or whatever happens to be between here and home . . ."

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Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback.