Author's Note: It's been––let's see––about two months since BlueTrillium beta-ed this chapter for me, and I promptly forgot to upload it. Oops ('^_^,).
Anyway, thanks to BlueTrillium.
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Chapter 2: Westward Bound
Autumn, Fourth Year of the Awakened Age
It was about four years since the Awakening had come to this world in the form of a seventeen-year-old girl. A ship swayed gently as it cut through the brisk water, propelled by a stiff wind on its course from Mouzk to Guzena. Now a young woman, Tachiki Noriko stood on the bow, legs braced as she watched the setting sun. It drifted slowly down to touch the horizon, setting the water ablaze with glimmers: some rose, some vermilion, some violet. When she had first fallen into this version of reality, she had clung to the fact that the sun still rose and set everyday––albeit in a west-east passage rather than an east-west one––and that most of the laws of physics with which she was familiar still applied. Westerly situation notwithstanding, the sunrise that morning had reminded her of the times when her family had taken summer vacations to the Pacific Ocean. There was a reason Japan was called "the Land of the Rising Sun."
Noriko.
His consciousness brushed her drifting mind even as Noriko recognized Izark's characteristic quiet approach. She turned and beamed up at him. Her expression was infectious, and the serious young man couldn't help but smile warmly in return.
At twenty-three, the warrior stood a few inches over six feet (183 cm), head and shoulders taller than Noriko's definitive five-two (155 cm). To her family Noriko had described Izark as Eurasian. In the world she came from his jet black hair, high cheekbones, and the way his deep-set eyes slanted under angled brows would have suggested oriental heritage. His straight nose and defined jaw could have come from anywhere, while the cast of his skin––tanned from a summer chasing around the Western Continent on horseback––was entirely European.
His proportions were almost unnatural in their perfection.
In short, Izark Kia Tarj had the kind of looks that would meet the standards of beauty for every human ethnicity under the suns. As if this were not enough, his eyes refused to be classified. One minute they were so black that they seemed to absorb the light; the next they could be midnight blue, or tornado green, or stormy gray; it all depended on his mood and whether or not his feelings could be hidden. At the moment they were a profound azure, a color that Noriko had seen more and more frequently over the past three years.
After wrapping the shawl he had brought carefully around the young woman's shoulders, Izark added his arm and asked, "What were you thinking?"
Noriko continued to smile as she attempted to retrace webs of gossamer thought. "I'm not sure." Finally catching a thread, she looked back at the sun, now quite low. "Have I told you that Japan is sometimes called the Land of the Rising Sun? Before the Americas were discovered, people in Europe, Africa and Asia believed that the Earth was flat, and that the Japanese Islands were closest to the place where they thought the sun rose every day because they were the farthest east. Our oldest legends say that the great gods of the sea and sky created the Islands, and that the Islands became the kingdom of their daughter, the sun goddess Amaterasu, and her children after her. Of course, all that was disproved by modern science."
"I think the scholars of this world would pay to hear half of what you know about 'modern science'," the warrior chuckled. Noriko's explanation of mirages had made no sense to Izark until he had tried making one, something he was uniquely capable of doing. She had spoken with complete confidence as she informed Dr. Clairgeeta that the world she was born to traveled around its Sun, and that this caused the seasons. The learned man had listened in awe as she explained that the Earth also spun on an axis running through the core perpendicular to the equator, causing day and night as different parts of the globe were exposed to the Sun's light. Furthermore, the Moon of her world was about a quarter of the size of the Earth, which it circled in the same way the Earth circled the Sun. The Sun and the Moon looked about the same size; but that was because the Sun was enormous and very, very far away whereas the moon was, by comparison, very close. Noriko maintained that since day, night, seasons, and moon phases occurred in this world as well, she figured it worked the same here. When Clairgeeta had inquired where Noriko had learned all this (was his head reeling as Izark's had been?), the young woman had had to think before answering, "Where I come from, anyone with a good elementary education learns the basics."
The implications of Noriko's thoughts hit him like an avalanche, suffocating his amusement and freezing his heart. She misses her family; her world, he realized. Has she begun to regret staying with me? If that was true, then Izark desperately needed to convince her that he appreciated her presence– that he needed her. It had been over a year since they were in the Sea of Trees, the place where she had literally fallen into his life as his Awakening. Since then, they had traveled all over the Eastern Continent, accompanying Dr. Clairgeeta and his entourage. Now they were returning to Selena Guzena on the Western Continent after receiving a message that a gathering of their allies was to take place at the home of Zena Il Pisca and her sister, Gaya. They would be less than two months' hard travel away from the Sea of Trees. Would Noriko finally do as he dreaded she would, and ask to be sent home? If she did ask––there was no way he could deny her request, but…
His arm tightened, almost imperceptibly, around her shoulders.
Almost imperceptibly. Noriko felt it, as well as the sudden unease of his mind. Turning yet again, the young woman peered into Izark's face, searching for the cause of his distress.
Izark? she queried silently.
The young man hesitated, then drew his beloved into a true embrace. He had to explain. It was absolutely necessary that she understand, and fully, what he was feeling. Bending his head, he pressed his lips lightly to hers and made his voiceless plea. Thoughts are more complex than words, involving more kinds of emotion and imagery than speech can express. Thus, this narrative is a poor translation.
I love you. I will do anything in my power and knowledge for the sake of your happiness. If you must leave, I will send you. But don't ask me to be happy. Please don't ask me to be happy, because I can't be happy without you.
Izark! Her response was a scolding, like one given to a forgetful child. A memory flashed between them, and Izark had the most peculiar sensation of looking up into his own astonished face, but the words he heard were the same as Noriko's that day some three years ago. "No! Of course, I want to go home. I want to see my family. But… I couldn't stand being separated from you. I want to stay with you, Izark. I want to be with you forever."
Relief flooded him. She did understand.
This exchange took place in a manner of seconds, as thoughts do. Its transience, however, did not guarantee their complete privacy. When they parted, Noriko discovered that Wei was leaning against the mast and watching the pair of them with great interest. Noticing the young woman's blush, Izark turned to face in the direction of her gaze and glared, his own face coloring. Wei was one of the few people capable of sneaking up on the swordsman––he'd spent countless hours over the last year getting the knack of it.
"When Katarina mentioned that it was getting cold," Wei informed Izark, a wicked grin playing across his delicate features, "you left before she could finish. It's almost dinnertime, and she was going to suggest that you tell Noriko. She had me hunt you both down." With that, the slight man turned and bounded to a stairwell leading below deck. "Move it," he called over his shoulder. "Dr. Clairgeeta will insist that we wait for you, and table service is slow as it is. Personally, I'm starving."
"He didn't have to look so amused," Izark grumbled as he escorted Noriko to the narrow stair.
Noriko giggled. She knew that Izark's comment was only meant to cover his embarrassment at having walked out before Katarina had finished speaking. She also knew that he would be subjected to much teasing for being 'overprotective', though considering their situation when they met the term wasn't really pertinent. His somewhat parental attitude was simply an integral part of their relationship.
As they descended the short flight of steps, the young woman that was the Awakening sent the man that was the Sky Demon one more thought, a combination of memory and new concept.
"I will stay with you…for all my life…" Especially… "If you want me to."
II II II II II
They make an odd family, Noriko decided over supper that night.
Danjel, the grandfather, was a veteran warrior of the former Gray Bird Tribe and a walking contradiction. He was practical, yet––as a white-haired eighty-nine-year-old who routinely climbed houses––extraordinary. He was traditional, yet surprisingly tolerant–of his grandson's eccentricities, for instance. In general, he treated both of his grandchildren as equals to himself, though on occasion he had used his authority with Wei. His face was lined and drawn with a wide flat nose, bushy brows, and a gentle expression; his back was beginning to stoop. Nevertheless, he was still the equal of nearly every swordsman he encountered.
Katarina, the elder sister, was pretty and plump, cheerful, prim, and kind (usually). With her cherubic face and soft, wavy blond hair, she had an air of innocence and docility that she used to full advantage when necessary—it was only skin deep. Noriko often found Katarina's words to be at odds with the attitude in which she voiced them. The female warrior treated threats of bodily harm with smiling nonchalance. Then again, it was common knowledge that accosting a woman of the Gray Bird Tribe could be damaging to one's health. At thirty, Katarina had proved the accuracy of that knowledge time after time, using pain to make the lesson stick.
Wei was Katarina's twenty-one-year-old brother, a mischievous young man who delighted in trying to rile Izark. He was short by the standards of his people, with slender shoulders and the build of a dancer; he reminded Noriko of nothing more than a young cheetah. His eyes– a dark brown that matched his elder sister's perfectly– were large with long, defined lashes, and his oval face was framed by tapering layers of fine white-blonde hair that emphasized the cheetah cub effect. If he wore a dress––and he frequently did––Wei could not easily be recognized as a male. Quite on the contrary, most people assumed that he was a very attractive female. Despite his looks and his (normally) mild temperament, he was a deadly martial artist with an affinity for sharp objects. He was also a bottomless pit.
"Are you quite finished, Brother Dear?" Katarina asked in a poisonously sweet voice as Wei polished off a third plateful. She only called him "Brother" or, more particularly, "Dear" when she was teasing. That, or raging.
"Nearly." Wei dabbed his mouth elegantly with his napkin. "There's still room for more, but… Yes, I will live." He said this with a straight face, though his eyes sparkled with mirth.
"We'll be at port by noon tomorrow," Lori son of Arikowa––formerly a peacekeeper of Stenny in the country of Aibisk, now a member of Dr. Clairgeeta's retinue––commented without batting an eye. Noriko had never asked his age, and he'd never volunteered it. Ever meticulous, Lori kept his thick, tight brown curls cropped to his shoulders and not a whit longer; he could make a travel-stained tunic look like a starched military uniform. He had no sense of humor, and was unlikely to ever acquire one.
"Port––as in land? Or at least wooden docks anchored in solid ground?" Dr. Clairgeeta only half joked. With a solid build common to northern Aibisk and a direct, clear-sighted gaze, the prematurely gray philosopher gave the impression of great vitality and athleticism. Vitality he had; athleticism he had not. One did not put Dr. Clairgeeta on a horse's back and expect him to not fall off––better to hire a carriage or, if none was to be found, to walk. Even the Lady Niana, wife of Grand Duke Jeida de Gilenee of Zago, was not so ungainly. It was quite plain that he detested all aspects of travel by sea, especially the close quarters and the constant challenge to his limited sense of balance.
Izark was fighting a losing battle as he attempted to smother his own laughter by pressing one fist over his mouth. He was partly successful: no sound escaped him, but his handsome face was flushed with the effort. When he caught Noriko's look of concern, he moved his hand just enough for her to see a brazen grin before hiding it from the others. She saw it, then immediately clapped her hands to her mouth in delighted surprise. Izark's smile would never cease to be a miracle. Not for Noriko.
II II II II II
"Wei, I absolutely forbid you to wear a dress," Danjel growled abruptly upon their entry into Selena Guzena, a month after their landing at Chugui Port on the coast of Guzena.
"Grandpa, I'm already wearing a dress," Wei said meekly, doing his best to sound reasonable. "Where do you expect me to change?"
"Find an abandoned alley for all I care, just do it! Shirt, leggings, belt, sandals, and lose the lip paint." The old man's usually mild tenor was strained. "I was able to justify certain of your behaviors while we were working underground against the Bonya clan. In civilized company, I expect you to dress as the man you are."
Wei heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well, if I must…" Suddenly his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Then Izark has to tie his hair back."
"Drop dead." Izark's voice was bored. Despite the odd rhythm of the dialogue, he hadn't missed a beat. Scenes like this had happened just inside the walls of every peaceful city their group had visited in the last year or so. Izark could understand Danjel's urgency. There was a big mess whenever people, particularly men and older boys, mistook Wei for a female. It caused an incredible display of Wei's fighting ability when said men and boys were of the bad sort. As a rule, the young tribesman could and would beat the snot out of anyone who acted on the presumption that his strength and temperament matched his looks. What Izark couldn't account for was what caused Wei to dress as he did––in drag. Traveling in the company of close acquaintances, Wei was quite comfortable in typical men's costume. Mention imminent contact with strangers, and he would immediately be digging in his bag for a high collared shift and cheap glass jewelry.
In any event, Izark wished Wei would stop bothering him about his hair. He saw no reason to change the hairstyle he had worn since childhood, and even less reason to oblige Wei's pointless demands. Besides, on the one occasion in which he had complied out of a desire to settle the matter, the shift had caused him a headache.
"Deal," Noriko's voice brought Izark out of his short reverie. She reached up to finger-comb his hair, skillfully pulling it into a low ponytail and securing it with one of the thin ties she had recently taken to wearing in her own waist length tresses. The feeling of her hands on his scalp gave the young man goose bumps, but he was collected enough to comprehend when she whispered, "Just till we reach Auntie's." When he turned around to look at her, Noriko correctly interpreted the why? in his raised eyebrow. She grinned.
He'll just change back as soon as we get there.
II II II II II
"Ah! There it is! Everyone, I found it!" Noriko, having grown up in a Japanese city of over one million, was well practiced at finding her way back to places she had visited, provided that her first trip took place during the day. As the group made their way down the wide lane which led to the Seer Zena's townhouse, Izark realized just how much he would appreciate seeing Gaya, Barago, Agol and Geena again. He expected that Grand Duke Jeida would be there with his family. Much as he would have liked to deny it, Izark would enjoy Alef's company, despite the man's coercive tendencies. Donya was further away than Zago, therefore he could only hope that Doros had been able to come. He doubted that Mardwoog, as mayor of Ennamarna, would have been allowed to set aside his duties long enough to make the journey. He even felt glad that he would soon be meeting Banadam again, though he had no intention whatsoever of giving the young guard even a moment alone with Noriko.
These pleasant thoughts were cut short as a small figure lurched to its feet from where it had been sitting on Zena's front step. There was a shriek.
"Noriko-neechan!"
Had he been anyone else, Izark would not have had time to catch Noriko, who was nearly bowled over by the enthusiasm of the dark haired child's greeting. The little girl had her arms wrapped around Noriko's waist as she babbled joyfully, speaking so quickly that at first Izark could not absorb the fact that she was talking in another language entirely.
Noriko's head had snapped up at the Japanese honorific. Now her eyes widened as she stared down at the child's oriental features.
"Akane-chan!" Finally regaining the power of speech, Noriko switched languages without realizing it. "[Little cousin! Why––how––What are you doing here, Akane?]"
Nine-year-old Akane rattled something off, and Noriko looked up to stare at Izark. Izark stared back. That the little girl was from Noriko's world, and that she knew Noriko well…it was impossible… wasn't it?
Immediately he set the young woman back on her feet, gently but firmly prying her from the child's grip. His hand was in hers as they hurried forward to fling open the door, even as the sheer improbability of this miracle dragged at his mind.
Could it be…?
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Author's Note: This is the four-times edited version of Chapter 2. Please review. : )
~Muse