'Quest for a hero' chapter one

The old man eased himself off his pony and looked around him. A dense wall of trees tightly ringed the wide clearing. The trees were so closely packed that it was impossible to see more than a few paces beyond them in any direction. He looked behind him surprised that he could no longer see the path that had followed to reach the clearing. Although he had been to this place many times before it never seemed the same, It always looked or felt as if it were somewhere completely different. Hooded figures, scarcely visible in the twilight emerged from the shadows under the trees. Dark robes stretched to the ground covering the figures' feet so that they seemed to float. The long hoods shrouding their faces giving them a sinister appearance.
The old man passed the reins of his pony to one of the silent figures that huddled around him. 'Is everything ready? He pulled his own deeply hooded cowl back to allow a clearer view. 'How many have you here?'
'Twenty acolytes Master Usaki.'
It was difficult to see which of the figures had spoken. Usaki did not blame the acolytes for their secrecy. The old ways had been in decline for many years. At first there had been a campaign of persecution then they had been ridiculed and later ignored . In truth he sometimes marvelled that there were any left at all to follow the arts. 'Good, that is enough. Lead me to the high place.'
The cowled figures formed up around him and led him across clearing. Another ring of figures had formed around a large and twisted, gnarled oak tree at the far side of the clearing. Each of these figures held a burning torch and chanted in low barely audible voice. The group around the tree parted as Usaki was led forward, the rings of figures merged and the chanting redoubled in volume.
Usaki steeped closer to the tree and throwing up his hands in the air cried out. 'I call upon the powers of this sacred place. I call upon the spirits of all things living and dead. Grant me power.'
'Grant us power,' a score of voices called out in the gathering dusk.
'Bring the bowl.' Usaki rolled up both sleeves and took the bowl which one of the acolytes hurriedly placed in his hands. He stepped forward carrying the bowl and placed it in front of the tree. Kneeling in front of the tree he stretched out both hands. 'Bring me the blades.'
Two figures dashed forward each carrying a knife, which they placed into his out stretched hands.
'Grant me power. I demand it. I offer my blood as a sign of my dedication.' He folded his arms cross his chest then drew them apart. Each knife sliced deeply into the flesh of his arms. The divided veins letting blood gush out into the bowl in front of him.
He swayed, for a moment dizzy with the ecstasy as much as the loss of blood. He stood holding out the knives to his side.
The hooded figures moved forward. Each acolyte in turn stepped forward to take the knives from Usaki and knelt to repeat the bloodletting. The noise of chanting increased again and the old man lowered himself shakily to the ground, crossed his legs and closed his eyes in trance like meditation.
The last of the acolytes picked up the bowl of mingled blood and passed it to Usaki. The old man carefully opened a small leather pouch and poured a mixture of ancient herbs into the bowl. He shook the last few flakes onto the liquid and gently replaced the pouch into his pocket. In a moment the blood mixture seemed to boil within the bowl. He raised it to his lips and took a sip before passing around the ring of seated figures.
Usaki sat back closing his eyes again he felt his body tingle as if alive with power. He saw himself travelling, flying through the air. Through woods over hills and into clouds he flew. Usaki was joined by twenty figures moving as balls of light. The balls of light flew alongside him merging with him so that he felt himself grow stronger, greater, and more powerful. It was as if a dozen voices were chattering excitedly in his head. He concentrated hard focussing his mind and his power to control them all. The lights and the power finally merged as one under his control.and the chattering voices fell silent.
He reached out and felt himself moving forward, flying toward the mountains of the north. As he skimmed low over tree draped mountainsides and snow covered peaks, he rose and fell over hills and valleys.
Ahead of him a river shone as a line of silver tumbling through the mountains. Along the course of the river a jumble of houses with different coloured roofs and walls hugged close to the riverbanks. Fields, some water logged stretched in all directions. As he passed the rooftops the rocks suddenly reared up in front of him and clinging to the cliffs were towering walls and steeply sloping roofs. He dropped over the walls and into the courtyard of the castle. It was many years since the old man had seen the inside of the castle but still he knew where to look. A mist drifted in front of his eyes as if a cloud were trying to block out his view.
He laughed to himself, yes they had been strong enough to keep me out at one time but not now, not now I have the power to push them aside.
He pushed on and drove the mist back, forcing his way into the hall. There in the midst of the castle hall sat Lord Yamato. In front of him sat three men. Each of the men, thin old and bowed with age, carried the staff of a shaman. Usaki knew them well. He had trained them and now they tried to stop him, dare to try to keep him out.
One of the shaman looked up, 'he comes my Lord.'
Usaki could see the looks of terror on the faces of the men. As if each man had seen a ghost, a nightmare. In his mind he reached out and took the nearest man by the throat and squeezed. He felt the strength in his grip, strength he had not had in his own hands for many years, The man's face contorted and quickly went purple as he twisted and writhed to escape. Usaki relished the new power that his acolytes had given him. He dropped the corpse of the first shaman to the ground and took the second and then the third. He saw Yamato stare into the air in front of him unable to see what it was that was killing the men around him. Usaki chuckled to himself, Yes, because you don't have the gift then you cannot see me. But also I cannot touch you, at least not yet. Anyone who travelled in the spiritual plane could be fought and killed there. However a man who stayed in the physical plane was safe, at least until he slept. He allowed himself to float back from the hall and slowly start the return to the wooded glade. In the distance now he could hear the voice of Yamato.
'I don't care if you have to tear the castle apart, find that old crook and find him fast. And take these away and find me another shaman.'
The old man returned to the forest and opened his eyes. His breath made a small cloud around him in the cold night air. He looked out on the motionless forms of the acolytes that surrounded him. No clouds of breath marked their lifeless bodies.
'You have all served me well,' the old said. 'Your sacrifice has been of great value, the old ways are back and no one can stop them now.' He stood from his kneeling position and walked to his horse. He felt almost drunk with the power and the strength, which had made him like a young man again. Even he did not know how long this would last but he had much to do before the magic faded.
He climbed onto his pony and started to ride out of the forest. He had a long ride if he were going to reach the mountain top village, which had been his home for years, before dawn.
*
Lord Yamato shuffled his feet forward an inch at a time the blade held above his head quivering with each step. He was almost within reach of his opponent but his opponent could also almost reach him too.
With a howl the other man leapt forward, a light spring in his step carrying him nearer as his own blade hissed down. The careful shaped blade whistled as it moved, carving an arc with speed and precision.
Yamato sprang back avoiding the cut, his own blade slashing down a moment later. His opponent brought his blade up quickly in a smooth blocking movement. The blades crashed together and his opponent withdrew. He looked a little awkward and Yamato observe that he had not fully recovered his balance after the attack.
Yamato attacked, to follow up his advantage with a series of over head strikes, all of which his opponent evaded or blocked. The heavy armour was very hot and clumsy to wear and he felt the sweat beginning to run down his back Yamato stood for a moment his blade poised above his head as before. Again he stepped forward and again his opponent aimed a blow at his head. This time Yamato sidestepped rather than stepping back or blocking the strike. The blade crashed into ground beside him and he struck. His own down strike caught his opponent hard on top of his helmet. The wooden blade snapped and the figure staggered reeling under the blow. He stumbled for a moment then regained control reaching up to remove his helmet with one hand and to stem the flow of blood from his nose with the other.
Yamato looked at the boy's face and nodded. 'Good well played, but remember you should not expect the same response each time. You were foolish to expect me to step back each time you attacked.'
'Yes father, I am sorry.' The young man raised his eyes from the ground for only a moment before staring once again at the foor in front of him.
'Well done, you would earn a place in the guard. Keep practising and you will earn the right to lead them. Now I think it is time for your tutor.' Yamato reached forward and rather awkwardly patted his son on the shoulder.
The thin youth cradled his helmet in his arms and bowed stiffly toward Yamato. 'Thank you father, I will do my best.'
Yamato nodded again and grunted, 'good.' He turned towards the door behind him and threw the remains of the broken wooden practise sword or bokken towards the servant standing in the doorway.
'Throw his away and help me out of this.' He raised his arms and stood still while three servants hurriedly approached and began unstrapping his armour.
A young servant girl entered the room carrying a fine silk robe. She approached Yamato with eyes lowered as was the custom. She had been taught to avoid eye contact with her lord and also to avoid looking at a man's body. She waited as the servants removed the armour and left the room. She held out the gown as he inserted his arms into the sleeves then hurried to tie the robe in front of him.
'Sutra, have you any news for me?' Yamato spoke quietly.
'My Lord?'
'About Karnack, does he plot against me alone, or is he involved with this shaman Usaki.'
'No My Lord, I have not heard anything of plots or conspiracies.' She allowed herself to look up and meet his eyes.
He smiled, 'good it would not do to have a captain of the guard who could not be trusted.' He made a slight adjustment to the belt of the gown then tucked a small knife into it. 'Would it worry you to change your position in the household?'
'No, My Lord. I live only to serve you.'
'Ah, Just so. Indeed.' He nodded. 'I think that Usaki may require some company on his journey.'
'Journey, my Lord?'
'Yes he is going on a journey although he does not yet know it. Come with me and I will tell you what I need of you. The old man is waiting outside.' He turned and led the way out of the room.
Sutra followed a respectful distance behind him as he moved towards his private apartments.
*
Usaki shivered slightly as he waited outside the huge doors which opened in to the main hall of the castle. He had been summoned from his hilltop retreat the day before by a troop of clan Yamato soldiers. They had not allowed him to bring anyone with him or even to go back into the house to get a warmer robe. He had been forced to ride through the night to reach the castle by day break. No allowance had been made for his age or the dangerously icy paths. When he had arrived at the castle the men had ushered him to the hall as quickly as possible.
Three hours later he still stood waiting outside the doors of the castle hall. A cold wind blew in through the open window near to Usaki. He looked out to see another fall of snow had started. The wind causing the snow to form small heaps and eddies of flakes whirled around each other like puppies chasing their tails. He wondered whether the road would be closed and he would be unable to return to his home.
Usaki was worried. He knew that he had performed the rites properly and the acolytes had given him their power. If that were not so then he would have been unable to have exerted his power and killed his rivals
In that case, he wondered, why am I unable to see into the hall and find out what Yamato was planning. Why had the arrival of the men to take him to the castle been a surprise to him.
The old man looked again at the two guards who were watching him. Surely I should be able to read the minds of such simple fools as these.
He closed his eyes and reached out to them. I cannot. I cannot even feel their presence.
The large doors swung open and the two armed men led Usaki into the hall. At the far end of the hall was a small table. Yamato sat at one side of this, a thin and unfamiliar youth sat at the other. Between them on the table lay a chessboard with a game in play. The youth must surely be Yamato's son, Usaki thought, he has the same weak jaw and devious eyes. When Usaki had last seen the boy he had been a child unable to walk. Behind Yamato stood a vicious looking warrior. A scar ran the length of one side of his face, from above his ear to the tip of his chin. His head was shaved apart from a small circle on the crown the hair of which had been allowed to grow long and tied into a ponytail, which hung down to the side of his head. This must be Karnack, former prize fighter, now captain of the guard. One glance at the hungry look on his face and you did not have to be a shaman to tell where he hoped his future lay. He, no doubt, had plans to follow his predecessor, Yamoto's rise to power.
Beside the warrior stood a small thin young woman, little more than a girl. She had her head bowed but Usaki could see that men who were interested in such things wound certainly call her very attractive.
Usaki searched the hall with his eyes. There was no one else here. He searched the walls looking for sign of any sort of talisman or charm that might be used to prevent his power working. No, there was nothing here, nothing at all.
Yamato continued playing chess or rather staring intently at the board which sat between him and his son. He did not look up or appear to notice Usaki at all. The old man stood still trying in vain to break into the mind of the people in the room.
After a few minutes Yamato looked up and stared at him. 'So you are here to see us again, good.'
'I came as I was bidden,' Usaki replied but did not move. 'It is many years since I was in the castle, in the days of the old lord. I offer my humble congratulations on your promotion. To move from guard captain to lord requires great persistence.' Also a well place knife in the back, he thought to himself.
Yamato glared at him then acknowledged his courtesy with the slightest nod of his head.
'It is time to set off on the search. It has been delayed many years but I am told that the omens are favourable. Regrettably neither of my advisors are able to go. So you will have to go instead. The weather is not good today but it is improving by the time the ships are stocked and the men are aboard things will have changed. Karnack will come with you, his men will provide the necessary strength you will need. Sutra,' he waved vaguely to the girl who nodded her head with a minuscule bow. 'Sutra will go with you to look after you, as you have not had the time to collect any of your own people together. It is, after all, a long journey for a man of your age.'
Usaki looked Yamato in the eyes he was unhappy at being unable to gauge his reaction or read his mind. Why he could not do this was a mystery when he could see no shaman here to block him. Even if Yamato had managed to find a shaman strong enough to defeat Usaki, and had hidden him somewhere in the castle Usaki was sure he would know. He was sure that he would feel the power somewhere keeping him out. He could not, it was as if his power reaching out into the rooms of the castle was not being blocked but rather soaked up as water with a cloth.
'If you intend to take it by force then you may need to send many warriors, My Lord.'
Yamato smiled, 'I already have some warriors ready to leave you will join them and make sure they find it. Go be ready to leave as soon as the weather clears.'
As Yamato was still speaking Usaki glanced around the room. For a moment the girl met his gaze and he looked in through her eyes, windows to her soul, and saw it all. Of course, how like Yamato to try to hide behind a witch. She must be strong to have fooled him for so long. It promised to be an interesting journey.
'Of course my Lord, I live only to serve you.' As he spoke he Yamoto's eyes widen in recognition of the phrase.
'Go, leave me,' Yamoto shouted the smile fading from his face.