Author's Note:I will be finding the next few chapters rather difficult to write. Be prepared for us to not only explore names I can never seem to pronounce correctly in my head, but also parts of Kane's character that have never been written or implied before. My goal now is to try and transition Kane into these new character traits smoothly without losing character believability in the process, and that may not always happen. Please read, enjoy, and review. Especially if in the coming chapters you consider something about Kane too artificial. I will do my best but Kane is swiftly becoming the most dynamic character I have ever created.
Licking Wounds
(Following the battle)
Rowan had teleported directly to her bedroom in the old mansion of Marleybone, leg still held to her chest and still bleeding ectoplasm. She looked around her room before whistling loudly. The call was answered by the scurrying sound of rodent paws preceding the arrival of Henry, her butler. He looked appalled by the sight of his mistress, whiskers quivering, but Rowan scowled at him.
"Don't worry about it," she berated him, "I'm not going to lose the limb, and it's ectoplasm, so it won't stain anything. Now get me the leather strips I use in book bindings from the library and a large gauge sewing needle, and some cloth. I've got to stitch myself up." Henry nodded as he glanced at the sight again, before scurrying down the hall to retrieve her materials.
Rowan's eyes began to water after he left and she set her separated leg on the rug in front of her. When she thought about it, Rowan wasn't sure if she was crying because of the pain, or because Kane had actually amputated her intentionally; perhaps both. Rowan certainly understood Kane's reasons for hacking at her limbs – she was trying to kill him after all- and she wasn't incapable of reattachment –she could even still move the leg, if she fancied kicking herself or a far off object- but it was still a dick move. It would take potentially a month or more for her leg to fully reattach, provided she didn't heal herself with a life-stealing spell, and she would be crippled for most of that time. And while her perception of pain was mitigated by her undeath, amputation was a far cry from a paper cut!
Rowan sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes when Henry returned with the necessary items. Setting to work, she had Henry help her position and hold the leg in place –and at the proper angle, lest she end up with a crooked leg- and got to work weaving the thin leather strips across the seam. Leather was the preferred binding material when working with non-living flesh or bone because it was strong, accessible, easy to work with and didn't cut into the flesh when the stitches were tightened.
Rowan focused entirely on her work, not allowing her mind to wander to ensure she attached the leg correctly. These bindings would have to hold for quite a while and she'd hate to find out she'd screwed up after the leg healed. It took some time, but once it was done she wrapped it all in a cloth bandage to control the bleeding, and hide her work in case her sisters stopped by for any reason. I don't want to have to explain this. Hopefully I won't have to.
"Alright, now I need crutches…" Rowan muttered aloud. Henry wouldn't be able to just go to a store and buy some, but what could she use? She had an idea, and she didn't particularly like it because they were a gift from Kane and they were very pretty, but…
"You know what, he cut off my leg so he can't complain. Henry, get the axe and some small wood planks from the basement, bring them here, and then get the naginatas from the hallway, and glue from the study." Henry glanced at the ectoplasm all over the rug. "I told you, don't worry about it. It'll evaporate into the netherworld and leave no trace. Now get that wood, quickly. I feel like I'm growing moss sitting here."
After everything had been gathered, Henry had to cut the naginata shafts down to size with the axe for his mistress, which actually made her chuckle a little as he worked hard to heave the hand axe and bring it down. When he finally had the shafts broken to a good height, Rowan glued some foot long planks of wood to the tops and sat there to watch the glue dry. It was makeshift, they were hardly going to be comfortable or sturdy, but they were a start.
While the glue dried Rowan allowed herself to contemplate her situation. Her leaving the mansion had caused all of this –no surprise there- and she couldn't allow herself to spiral out of control like that again. But at the same time, she couldn't remain cooped up in this now thawed mansion until it froze over again. Her time with Alia had been well spent, something she missed dearly; something she felt would help her overcome this demonic angel within her. Somehow, she had to make the wards on the house that protected the world from her portable.
She thought about sending Henry off with a letter, but Marleybone's postal service was agonizingly slow across the Spiral. She knew there was a faster way, and one that the person she sought to reach would find uniquely normal. Drawing a Death symbol she summoned a simple soul, its robed visage materializing before her. Despite the transparency of the specter, the hooded face was cast in total shadow.
"Find Dworgyn in Ravenwood. Tell him Rowan Skulldreamer requests him at her manor in Marleybone, as soon as he has the time. The matter is urgent and private." The hood nodded, or seemed to, before the ghastly robes rippled through her walls and out into the Marleybonian morning sky.
"This wizard has been more trouble, than he's likely to be worth," Tiberius growled, sitting at his map-reading desk in his Captain's lounge, the beautiful skyway glistening in the windows behind him.
"You don't know that for certain," Spark interjected, standing against the right wall with his arms crossed. "He never gave us a final price."
"Look. Look out there…" Tiberius gestured a thick paw towards the door. "Do you see what he did, to my beloved ship?! And I've lost two fine crewmen, for him!"
"It stands to reason we would never have had this encounter, had we not taken him aboard," Spark commented, "however we shouldn't ignore that he fought the wraith on our behalf, ultimately saving the ship."
"Aye," Tiberius sighed.
"And he did promise to pay for repairs, alongside his fee of passage. We will be able to recover from this at no cost beyond crewmen."
"You say that, as if that makes their death acceptable," Tiberius growled. "I'm honestly considering killing that wizard now, while the doctor's got him, forgetting his damned gold, and pretending this never happened."
The door opened before Spark could reply, a bloody bandaged Kane walking in carefully, holding himself up against the wall with his good right arm. He looked over to the Captain apologetically, and Tiberius just looked stunned.
"I would advise against that," he dead-panned.
"How did you-"
"Your voice carries, sir," Kane cut him off.
"Get. Away. From. The doctor," Tiberius finished through his teeth, suppressing outward anger.
"Oh, that… right. Blinding spell again. He'll be fine soon." Kane grinned, and then held up a small bronze pendant strung around his neck. "As to why you shouldn't kill me, this is it."
"Oh my, a bronze bauble," Captain Tiberius rolled his eyes, "I'm quaking in my boots."
"You should be," Kane got serious, "because this is a tracking amulet, enchanted by a friend of mine who happens to be a wizard of high ranking in the Royal Expeditionary Force. Since the incident in Krokotopia, every researcher has been given one." The Captain and Spark looked at Kane incredulously.
"Wait a' second!" Tiberius snarled, leaping from his desk to draw his sword. Spark already had his rapier drawn and pointed at the injured Conjurer.
"You're a spy from the R.E.F.!"
"Again, killing me is a bad idea…" Kane hoisted the bauble. "Allow me to finish explaining why."
"You already did!" Captain Tiberius moved around his desk to get threateningly closer. "You've been giving them our whereabo-"
"No I haven't!" Kane interrupted sternly. "I boarded this vessel to avoid being found by the lot of them, and I can choose to activate the amulet at a whim. I am only revealing this to you so you don't destroy yourselves, because if you harm me I will call them." Kane didn't look nervous, like a man trying to use his ace card to save his life. He looked resolute, like a man determined to prevent disaster. "I don't want this ship in the Expeditionary Force's possession any more than you do."
"That's a load of cat crap!" Tiberius sneered. "You're one of their wizards, probably high ranking and honor bound to serve the Queen."
"I serve Her Majesty when it serves me," Kane icily replied, glaring at the Rottweiler. "I joined the Force for the opportunity to pursue my archeological interests. I am bound by honor to no one but myself, especially when I am endangered. Political ties just get in the way in a case like this."
"So you expect the wraith to make an attempt on your life again?" Spark asked, lowering his sword only slightly.
"Without doubt," Kane looked over to the Doberman. "But I have a plan to make that more difficult for her, and it will also have the benefit of making it harder for the Royal Expeditionary Force to find the Enterprise. Interested?"
Captain Tiberius took off his captain's cap to set it beside him on the desk and scratch his head. He had a contemplative expression; Kane could tell his proposal was not beyond consideration for the Captain and had potential. A low rumbling hum came from the captain as he considered his options and walked behind his desk.
"Just what did you have in mind?"
(One Week, Six Days Post-Incident)
Kane stood on the deck of the Enterprise and let Mooshu's gentle sunlight shine upon his back, which was only concealed by a simple tunic. He'd considered getting his armor on as usual, but wasn't comfortable asking any of the current company for assistance, which would be necessary considering his left arm was currently immobilized by a sling. The armor was instead in a sack slung over his right shoulder, which he set down as Captain Tiberius briskly approached and extended a paw.
Kane smiled and placed a fist-sized pouch of gold coins in the waiting paw. Captain Tiberius cocked an eyebrow and hefted the bag, bouncing it in his hand to hear the clink of metal. Smiling, he handed it off to Spark to inspect further.
"And the repairs?"
"Seek out a ship builder by the name of Nakasirto." Kane answered, "and tell him that Kanukata Darksword sent you to him and that I will be meeting with him soon to discuss the costs. He will understand and get to work, and it will be work befitting such a finely crafted ship."
"Aye, that she is," Tiberius nodded, looking over his wrecked home. "It will be nice, to have her like new again."
"It will be wonderful to see her in such fine condition," Kane complimented, also looking over the ship. "Try to keep her as new as Nakasirto makes her until we meet again."
"No guarantees, with this crew," Tiberius sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Then he broke into a grin. "But we'll try our best. Do you need one of my men, to help you carrying your things?"
"Nope," Kane hoisted the sack over his shoulder again, "I'll manage. Until next time."
"Just try to stay outta trouble, ya hear?" Tiberius told him. "Your gold's no good to me, if you ain't around to pay it."
"I'll keep that in mind," Kane responded as he walked down the ship ramp into the docks of Mooshu. He didn't look back, and the pirates didn't watch him go; their business was through, no further politeness or sentiment was necessary. Kane strutted down the docks like an injured man on a mission, ignoring the looks passerby gave him.
There was a monk he needed to see, a goat monk in the village at the foot of the Jade Palace, and he was roughly a day's walk from there. He left the docks and entered the port village proper, walking through the clay streets towards the village wall gate that led to the Jade Palace.
After so many years of Wizard City, Kane had forgotten the appeal of the small village environment Mooshu provided. He wasn't surrounded by people as he walked the streets; most of the village inhabitants were either working the docks or working the households. There was calmness in the air that was lacking in Wizard City's atmosphere. It brought a peace to his heart he hadn't felt in years, a peace that told him that now everything would be fine. He would return to his old Master, and learn more of the discipline he'd failed to maintain. He would become strong again, like he was before he'd left this ironically calm environment.
When Kane reached the gate leading to the road, he stopped to call upon his gryphon. With the morning sun already halfway towards noon, Kane wished to waste no time in getting to the monk he sought. And his gryphon would definitely halve his travel time.
When Kane arrived at the gates of the Jade Palace village the sky was awash with bright orange and streaked by reddened clouds as the setting sun announced the end of day. He dismounted from his gryphon under the watchful eye of a palace guardsman, who smiled at Kane after the conjurer brushed aside his wind-disheveled hair. With a flourish the guard drew his katana and held it up before him, bowing in recognition of a champion of the Emperor. Kane held his right palm vertically before him as if it were meeting his crippled left and returned the bow.
Such a greeting was not uncommon for Wizard City tourists to Mooshu since the cleansing of the Emperor during Malistaire's escapades. While Kane and his comrades received most of the prestige, the people of Mooshu generally regarded Wizard City as a Clan, like any other Clan of Mooshu. This meant that the entire school of Ravenwood was honored for their deeds, and wizards who came to visit Mooshu occasionally got discounts from the merchants of the square. With exams a few weeks away though no one had the free time to visit Mooshu, leaving the village square empty of anyone not bovine, porcine, or a goat. Kane enjoyed the quiet briefly, thankful he wouldn't get discovered by a gossipy witch after getting so far, and walked calmly towards the Jade Palace's courtyard.
"Well hey there, Mist'r Kane!" A voice decapitated Kane's quiet, and hopes, with the accentuation of a man who had spent an awful lot of his youth out in the untamed wilds. "Long time no see, eh? What be bringin' you to Mooshu this time?" Kane rolled his eyes and turned to look Prospector Zeke in his big eye. Zeke glanced at Kane's arm, concern warping his already strange features. "An' what happen'd to yer arm?"
"Had a run-in with a bad guy, got ugly. Actually going to get it healed now," Kane answered curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me…" Kane turned on Zeke, giving him the bandaged cold shoulder, but a thought occurred to him and he swiveled back. "Oh, by the way, I'm on a special mission for the Royal Expeditionary Force, so don't tell anyone I'm here. Got it?"
"Notta problem, Mist'r Kane! Ya can count on ole Zeke ta keep yer secret safe. Good luck t' ya, sonny!" Zeke gave him a mockery of a salute before sauntering off, leaving behind a doubtful Kane. The wizard regarded the Prospector with an eyebrow cocked for a moment longer before deciding that Zeke would likely spill the proverbial beans sooner or later, which meant he had little time to spare.
Hurriedly, Kane walked into the courtyard of the Jade Palace, looking directly past the giant Moodha statue to a large leafy maple tree on the side of the garden. His violet eyes were set on a particular goat monk, lounging beneath its shady branches. He got no further than ten paces from the monk before he was addressed.
"And to whom do I owe the pleasure of company, on this fine day?" The goat inquired, head turning towards Kane.
"Sensei Tan Keng, it is Kanukata Darksword," Kane stopped and bowed, the goat tilting his head upwards.
"Ah, young Darksword, third child of Su-Ling," Tan Keng smiled. "And my most stubborn, troublesome student. Why do I smell blood?"
"Because I am bleeding," Kane smirked. "I've come for your exemplary healing. The caretaker of my wounds did an acceptable job but I fear I won't heal well, or fast enough." The goat's head tilted.
"And speed matters in your healing?"
"I am afraid so, sensei," Kane admitted. "I was attacked by a Reaper, and a perplexing mention was made of my owing a debt to Death, so I suspect another attack in the coming days." The goat's mouth pulled taut at the mention of indebtedness to Death, and he grabbed his staff, hauling himself onto his hooves.
"In light of such news, we must get you healed. Come to my home, Darksword, and I will heal you," Tan Keng assured the wizard with a pat on Kane's left shoulder –Kane held back a wince- and led the way to his home.
The High Monk of the Moodha's home was not what a foreigner, ignorant of the ways of the Moodha, would have imagined. But for the highest ranking Monk of Mooshu, the spiritual advisor of the Emperor himself, this poorly kept commonplace shack was the most obvious choice of abode. Tan Keng pushed aside the door and Kane followed, entering a foyer with a large and low sitting square table. Tan Keng continued to the room beyond and Kane followed. This room was arranged like a medical examination chamber from Marleybone. In the center of the room was a flat stone slab the width of a thin cow, kept at chest height by wood cabinets. If the room had been smaller, the table would have dominated the space, but the room was of significant size to provide ample space between the island table and the multitude of shelves and cabinets hiding the walls from view.
It was the residents of those shelves that had Tan Keng's attention at present; he proceeded to pick up, tentatively shake next to his ear, then open and sniff the contents of the various jars. In some were preserved plant or animal matter, in others were pastes or creams, and in some minerals and metals. For a few jars Tan Keng would further his investigations by sticking a pinkie within the jar and sampling the contents. Those who met his approval were placed in a line in the center of the table, starting from the end closest to the door and working backward. When he collected what he thought would be necessary, the monk pulled a small wooden bowl and spoon out of the cabinet under the table.
"Describe the wound to me," he requested. Kane stood at the end of the table and worked on removing his shirt. As Tan Keng listened to Kane's explanations of his wounds, the goat monk tapped the lid of the jar closest to him, and then tapped the next closest and subsequently down the line of ingredients until he reached his desired jar. With a deft flick he opened the lid and withdrew a desired amount, placing it in the bowl. He then tapped the line of lids again until he reached the open jar, closed the lid, and started tapping lids at the start of the line again. For the second ingredient however he took the whole jar to pour a thick slime into the bowl. After returning the jar Tan Keng resumed his methodical tapping, grabbing and opening various jars.
Once satisfied by his choices, the High Monk swirled the contents with slow, steady strokes. He remained silent for a time after Kane had finished his exposition, his breathing synchronizing to the rhythm of the spoon. He didn't speak again until he stopped to add some water to the mixture.
"You are certain it was a Reaper that attacked you, young one?"
"Yes," confirmed the conjurer as he worked his bandages loose, "though not one I have had the pleasure of encountering before. This one was… different. Stronger." He didn't want to delve into the specifics; he wasn't sure he was ready to confide that much information in his spiritual mentor. Not just yet.
"It is unusual for Reapers to attack those who are not at the gate of death," stated Tan Keng, mixing the contents of the bowl much faster now. "Are your bandages removed and the wounds cleaned?"
"Cleaning now, sensei," Kane responded, dipping a recently clean rag into the monk's sink. His hair was draped over his right shoulder and water trickled down his bare back.
"Come to me when ready," Tan Keng instructed, putting down the spoon and dipping a finger into the salve he prepared. "The right consistency," he murmured, scrapping the cream off his finger and ambling back to the jars to return them to the shelving. Kane approached the monk a few minutes later, left pant leg soaked with diluted blood runoff.
"Sit down, back to me," Tan Keng motioned to the floor before him. As Kane lowered himself the monk continued, "I apologize for aggravating your wound earlier."
"It is forgiven, Sensei. You did not know," Kane smiled. His former friends would have been astounded to see that smile. It was a soft, childlike, genuine smile, the likes of which had not graced Kane's face since he first left Mooshu as a boy. He smiled this way because of the manner of his mentor; that calm, soothing, authoritatively wise aura always eased Kane's inner turmoil. And yet the goat was likewise stubborn and insistent; to argue that Tan Keng had not been at fault for patting Kane's wounded shoulder would have been an exercise in moving a mountain. It was easier to forgive the old goat.
"It was most definitely a Reaper," Tan Keng affirmed, his short-haired fingers gingerly running over the wound, feeling its energies. "The darkness of death taints the flesh with a severity I have rarely encountered." Kane was certain he heard a waver in the monk's voice, and his smile slipped away.
"But you have encountered it," Kane concluded, looking over his shoulder. "So perhaps you could explain to me how someone living owes Death a debt." The old goat remained silent as he felt both wounds, Kane's blood soiling his fingers. Without cleaning them he dipped his index finger in the salve and firmly massaged it into the cut. "Ooowwww! Do you have to press so hard, sensei?"
"The wound is deep, and the herbs must likewise be deep to ensure a swift, thorough recovery," Tan Keng stated objectively, unconcerned by Kane's pain. "You must also not wash the salve from your wounds, unless you wish to repeat this process more than necessary. Judging by your odor, that should not be difficult for you."
"I wasn't on the most sanitary of ships, I'll admit. Was hoping to bathe at some point," Kane sighed.
"It will just have to wait," chuckled Tan Keng.
"How long?"
"One week," the goat instructed. "After seven days, return here to bathe in a soap I will specially prepare, then you will receive another administration." He moved from the shoulder to the bicep, digging his salve-coated finger into the open muscle. Kane winced and his arm retracted. "Hold still," Tan Keng ordered, grabbing the arm and keeping it in place. Kane grit his teeth while Tan Keng applied the healing cream to his arm. When he was finished, the goat wandered away to wash his hands of Kane's blood.
"You still haven't answered by question, sensei," Kane turned to look over his shoulder at the goat. The High Monk sighed and turned off the facet.
"It is not an easy one to answer," The Monk explained while drying his hands, "and the answer will not be pleasant."
"The more unpleasant the answer, the more important it is to hear," Kane responded with a sagely tone. "Usually," he added. "So do not soften the blow, sensei. Tell me everything." The goat raised his head to look at the wall in front of him with a grim expression.
"Your family was cursed, Kanukata Darksword."