A thousand apologies for a rather talkie chapter. A small quiet moment after the squall. Should pick up in the next. Pinkie promise! ^_^
THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE
Book One : From the Earth | Chapter 9 : River of Stars
Practice swords clacked softly in the night air in consideration of the rest of the crew, now asleep. Master and student faced each other on the deck, the anchored boat bobbing on occasion with the river's gentle currents.
"That was awfully quick back there. I thought for sure you two would have to duke it out until the morning; the way she was hankering for it. Couldn't you at least made her think she had a chance?"
"To what end? It may be necessary to deceive a stronger opponent if it would mean your survival though not in this instance. Ill-tempered she may be, but the woman is no fool. To do so with the aim of toying needlessly with your foe is to disrespect them."
"Hmmm, so no matter if you're fighting someone better or worse than you, you still give it your best?"
"Be constant. Slacken not your hold on the sword, not for anyone."
A strike, a block. A shift in stance.
"Just as well, if you hadn't ended it so soon, who knows we might have gone to bed hungry, no thanks to Dotie. But you should see the Watchers at home when they spar. Swords smashing on and on… and on against each other, nobody really hitting anybody, forever circling each other like a pair of puffed up peacocks. I'd yell - When are you guys gonna stop staring into each other's eyes and start kissing! They'd give me the evil eye but I'd point at someone else. Gods, no wonder they call it dancing."
Okami raised a brow at her. "Dancing?"
"Dancing. When they want to sound tough, they'll size you up, waggle their sword and say - " the elf replied, lowering her pitch in an imitation of a manly voice. "Let's dance."
"I suppose an interesting reference to sword fighting commonly used by Faerunians. But can you dance? And by that I meant the art."
Irse shook her head. "Nah! To hear Ulraunt's favorite pet, Brother Nador, say it –" she said, frowning at the memory of the monk, the greatest of them all at kissing the Master of Tomes' posterior.
"He said I was born with two left hooves."
"And I was born a bamboo trunk that cannot even sway with the wind."
Ah, another thing he's not. "If we both can't dance, it can't be a dance; then what is it to you?"
Okami paused and arched the bokken over his head, his eyes tracing the air. "Not a dance. But a flow."
"A flow?"
"A flow. A cycle. A path. As all things may flow to their due course. The breeze to a full gale, a current to the tidal wave, a spark to the blazing flame. Even the earth, its blood a river of fire gushing beneath our feet until it surges from the crater and cools to become part of the hardened ground."
"And the sword - from its sheathe to the enemy!" Irse exclaimed with sudden insight, then blinked, surprised at her own words.
Her Teacher leveled a gaze at her, quiet and thoughtful. "Yes, you understand."
The elf nodded in return and raised her training sword once more. They resumed their practice drills, each swing and parry a measured movement, repeated and redone to help her retain. After what seemed like hours, Okami called for a stop so that he may proceed with the rest of his watch.
"Aren't we forgetting something?" Irse ventured, bokken sawing idly on her shoulder.
The blacksmith rubbed his chin, eyes evading her. A casual shrug and he replied, "I am quite certain we have gone over all of the drills for tonight."
Impatient, she stomped a foot on the deck planks but the girl shushed herself right away at the louder-than-expected clump, looking around to see if any of the crewmates had been disturbed from their rest. No angry head popped out of any door and the elf exhaled in relief.
"I want to learn how you did that. How you pulled the sword so fast to hit."
"Ah. That." Okami smiled, almost teasing. "For your own welfare, it is not yet time for you to learn to hold a true sword."
"Aw! Please, Teacher!" she begged, eyes mooning, but the blacksmith merely held up a hand and made to walk away.
Standard badgering isn't going to work. Maybe a different tactic. She sighed then called after him as her eyes fell in pretend defeat, one foot slack and shuffling back and forth.
"You're right. You don't have to teach me now. After all, it is dangerous for me to mess around with sharp and pointy things on my own when I don't even know what I'm doing. I'll forget about it. Never bring it up again. Nope. No, Sir. Will certainly not even think about it. Yep. Trrrust me!"
Okami halted in his steps, pausing for a good moment before turning to her, eyes narrowed. "Perhaps a reconsideration is in order. I shall demonstrate to you how it is done. But only for tonight and after this you will wait until I deem you capable. Agreed?"
Well, well! Had only been counting on him letting his guard down, but a victory is a victory. She clenched a triumphant fist behind her but refrained from showing too much joy.
"Agreed! But what made you change your mind?" The elf smirked. "And so suddenly?"
"Likewise for your own good, I realized it is more prudent to satisfy your curiosity in the meantime. Do you think it is hidden from me that you feign disinterest now, only for you to steal the sword in my sleep so that you may attempt the technique on your own when I am unaware?" Okami answered back.
"Ohhh!" Irse pursed her lip, guilty eyes drooping to the side. "Why would you think I'd do something like that?"
"I remember not too long ago a cautionary tale about a capering fox cub and an unfortunate smith who was very nearly deprived of the chance to sire future descendants. "
"All right! All right! I'd probably…," she admitted, wagging an indignant finger. "Just probably would do something like that. And if I did, I would've practiced some place far from any window where people won't get hurt. And besides, I'll bring it back without a scratch."
"Of the sword I have no doubt of its durability. But what of your fingers?"
Yikes. Of course. Irse gulped at the realization.
Okami approached her as he fished something out of a pouch in his sash. "Give me your left hand," he said.
She reached out her hand, and the blacksmith proceeded to wrap it with a thin strip of leather, layered a few times, enough to let her somewhat flex both wrist and fingers.
"What for?"
Okami replied, "A precaution." He held out his own, the lantern light on deck revealing a small yet deep scar on the back of the palm between thumb and index finger. She gaped at it and hoped that didn't hurt too much.
"First we learn iaijutsu and noto – respectively the art of drawing and sheathing the sword." With the katana at his left hip, cutting side up, he showed her how to push at the guard with the left thumb, adding a stern reminder not to put the thumb right on the edge of the blade lest she cut herself, then holding the scabbard with the left hand and drawing the sword fully from the sheathe with the right, ending at the beginning stance.
Unsheathing seemed simple enough, but returning the blade was another thing. Holding the mouth of the scabbard, he rested the dull edge right at the guard between the webbing of his left thumb and forefinger, and slid down the entire length until the point aligned with the opening.
Lifting the sword parallel to the ground, he twisted his left hip backward, giving him greater reach to allow him to guide the tip of the sword into the mouth. Rather than sliding in the sword directly, he lined both point and mouth and moved the sheathe over the blade deliberately, bringing the scabbard up to the metal fitting between the guard. A quick jerk of the thumb and the sword was locked into the scabbard.
Several repeated demonstrations after which the katana was turned over to her, Okami himself tucked it into her belt and secured with a silk cord through a knob on the scabbard.
It's her turn now. Right hand quivering over the hilt, she jerked the guard out.
"Slowly, there is no need for haste. Acquire a feel for where the blade makes its path from sheathe to stance," he instructed.
The elf drew the blade, unhurried, observing how the cutting edge traced an arch facing the sky before abruptly righting itself upon being fully drawn.
At times with the first attempts to re-sheathe, the tip missed the mouth and poked at the webbing between her fingers, the prick felt but the skin protected by the leather wrapped around her hand. Silently the elf thanked her Teacher for having thought of everything beforehand.
Not too long, with each repeated motion, the confidence gained served to steady her hand. When he appeared satisfied at the demonstrations, her Teacher had her untie the string in the knob and took back his sword.
"Now that you know how to properly unsheathe and sheathe the blade, we will proceed with battojutsu – the rapid draw of the sword to enable you to perform both the unsheathing and the cut in a single movement as I did in the duel."
"Warriors must be ready to fight at any time, to be first to strike even when your foe is the one to launch an attack. In my homeland, it is a shame to be caught unawares and cut down without having unsheathed your weapon. You cannot beg for your life; thus, you should not beg for time to draw your sword," he explained.
Once more, Okami demonstrated the technique several times, with slow deliberate motions at first to let her see. Posture stable, with the sword at the hip, he took hold of the scabbard but this time he also pulled back the sheathe with the left hand while simultaneously stepping with the forefoot and drawing the blade to end at a frontal strike.
"Due to the curvature of the sheathe, the blade meets no resistance as it is drawn while the backward pull of the scabbard is harnessed to propel the blade with greater quickness, as well as sufficient momentum and force to deflect an incoming strike, or to cut at the enemy," her Teacher described. He repeated a few more times unhurried, following with executions at the proper speed.
It was her turn once again. Clutching at the scabbard, Irse inhaled deeply.
Stillness.
A click, a grinding slide of iron against wood. In a flicker of an eye, steel glinted in the lamplight.
"I didn't do that!" she blurted, wide-eyed.
Okami beamed, amused at her disbelief. "Perhaps another attempt might convince you otherwise."
And she did, countless times more, not always perfect, but enough to assure herself.
"I promised I won't try this again until you let me," she said. "But I'll forget how, by then."
"There is another means to continue your learning for when you cannot train as frequently as you wish. It is to practice in your mind what the body must do."
"Only in the mind? That's just daydreaming and imagining."
"More than that. Not a wandering of the mind, but a focus of thought with intent. Is it not true that the mind controls the body? For how else could the greatest among us exceed their limits if they had not set the intention in their thoughts long before the body stirs. Now, close your eyes."
Irse followed, breathing in deeply, expectantly.
"See yourself in your mind's eye, standing as you are now, sword at your hip. Recall each detail, the feel of the floor beneath your feet, the weight of the katana at your side."
"All right…?"
"Without moving a muscle, execute the motions in your mind. But not watching yourself from a distance, rather as if you are performing them yourself. Imagine the pressure of your fingers on the sheathe, your palm around the hilt, the effort in your body. Envision completing the act perfectly, a thousand times."
Unconvinced yet trusting, she furrowed her brows and imagined herself sheathing, unsheathing, drawing to strike. Fuzzy at first, the picture in her mind, the imagined act too fast, too smooth, unreal. But she remembered what he said - feel as if.
Left fingers twitched as if touched by the smooth lacquered surface of the scabbard, right wrist tensing as if at the ready on the hilt. Drawing the blade and returning it, only in thought but truly feeling steel slightly sliding against the inner wall of the wooden sheathe.
Again and again in silence, she in concentration and he in patience.
"Uh-oh."
"What is it?" he asked, voice puzzled yet tinged with alarm.
"I was doing fine. But now the imagined sword just flew right out of my imagined hand and is now sticking up in the imagined butt of an imagined Master Ulraunt. "
"This little fox," Okami sighed.
The elf opened her eyes and snickered. "I'll make us some tea," she offered, untying the string of the scabbard and handing back the sword, resting upon both palms which the blacksmith received in same manner.
Opening the door to the galley, Irse cast one more glance at her Teacher tying the silk cord in his sheathe under the lamplight, and then she went inside.
"I thank you for the tea."
"I could make more if you like."
Sitting on a bench and leaning against a crate on the deck, her Teacher casually waved a hand. Across him, Irse sat upon the floor, practice sword laid at her side.
Though dawn wasn't far off, the buzz from the practice session kept drowsiness at bay. And besides, hanging around at their quarters at this time no longer seemed like the best idea. Only the thinnest of planks which didn't even closed up to the ceiling separated their section from that of the dwarf's. Sleep only came in the first night as a result of exhaustion from lying awake, unable to drown out Dotie's thunderous snores rumbling over the gap between ceiling and wall - if it could be called as such.
No wonder the crabby dwarf had her own place - it was not a privilege, but a mercy for the rest of the crew.
Irse poured for herself before lowering the kettle on the wooden floor. With a start she realized she had forgotten to bring a potholder. Ah well, a ring of soot wouldn't be so out of place on any surface of this boat.
She sipped her drink and scrunched her nose. Forgot the milk and sugar again. She glanced at her Teacher drinking from his own cup – how does he manage to take it all straight?
Just one of the many mysteries of life. The elf shrugged and looked down at her mug. As the moon's reflection wavered on the surface of the dark liquid, Dotie's warning echoed in her mind.
She really didn't care if the captain and her crew traded in illegal goods or skipped on their dues to the harbormasters. And she wasn't even too worried of Dotie's threat anymore - as long as she kept her head down and her Teacher knew nothing of it then it should be smooth sailing all the way to Iriaebor.
Shar-Teel may be a hard-nut, even dealing with some shady types but she didn't seem the kind to be mixing with the extra wrong crowd; the caring and friendly Nells even less so. Yet for some reason, the incident at the cargo hold filled her with a sense of disquiet she couldn't shake off.
"What is the matter?" Okami inquired at her silence. He must have noticed the withdrawn expression on her face as she stared down in her tea.
"Nothing, Teacher." A shrug. "Just thinking… about things."
"Ah."
She hunched forward, fighting to dismiss the thoughts from her mind. Forget the dwarf. Think about something else. Someone else.
Flanked by the woods on either side of the river, the elf strained her eyes if perhaps possible to use her sight to pierce through the darkness, imagining seeing just beyond the trees over there - Candlekeep and the flicker of its lighted windows. Perhaps a glimpse of her foster father at his desk, a pile of parchments and books before him and maybe, she dared to hope, the note she had left for him. What could he have thought then, what would he be thinking if he could see now just how far she was from everything and everyone she had ever known? Here in some rundown ship sailing to what could already be another world, trusting a stranger with her life when she could have trusted her father with her future.
Even worse. What would he say when she comes back? When the road was still beneath her feet to turn back on, it was easy to daydream of that knock on the gates and at Gorion's door. So easy to think of it just the other day, but suddenly now...
"It is well to ruminate on what has been and we think ourselves wise to presume on what will be," the blacksmith said, a seeming acknowledgement of her worries even though she kept them to herself.
"But only in being here in the present are we truly alive," he added.
Irse scowled. "Well, that's rather obvious isn't it?"
"And yet it is something most of us fail to perceive. Dwelling on the past that cannot be changed, fretting on the future that is yet and may not even come. Too late, one realizes that today has slipped from their grasp, the chance to experience the infinite, gone."
"The infinite? I don't understand. How can you experience the infinite in the present when this moment is happening only right now?"
"For it is not in the past that has gone, nor in the future yet to come can you do anything. But only in the now can you act and be what an infinite number of possibilities are yet to be chosen by you."
A sip of his tea, then he continued, "And more so because you can make the present last for as long as you hold on to it."
Hold on to the present? The elf furrowed her brows in deep thought. Perhaps her Teacher was right – nothing can be done with what has happened and who knew what tomorrow may bring. Enjoy the moment while it lasts – this wasn't the first time she had heard of the saying.
Irse leaned back, finally allowing her gaze to wander among the stars in the firmament above them, holding their own light as Selune appeared no more than a pale sliver in the night sky.
As the mind cleared and eyes fixed only upon the stars, somehow her spirit began to ease - worries borne away by the cool night breeze.
Clouds, like gray mountains drifted across the moon, lingering to cloak the dimly lit crescent in totality. In that moment, the sky became a sudden veil of diamonds and fireflies, innumerable pinpricks of cold starlight; some as if mere lamps in the horizon, others deeply far, beckoning to the immeasurable expanse of the void.
Irse felt her own breath stand still as the immense starlit sky filled her sight. An unknowable ache pricked her heart. In one moment, she saw herself small and insignificant against the heavens above them, at the same time feeling as vast, as limitless as the horizon.
"Lanterns in the sky,
By day shadowed in the sun,
Yet each night, eternal."
Okami had suddenly recited the verses, his voice soft and low as if lost in a dream.
Irse turned to look at him. His eyes darted to her, then turned back to the stars.
"Please forgive the excess syllable when the final verse only requires five. I am a blacksmith, and no poet."
"It's all right," the elf chuckled. What else could he not be, after all?
They sat in comfortable silence, content to gaze at the night sky as the world glided along the gentle currents of the present.