Harata crouched down beside Takaeyama and gently rolled him over on his
back. It was too dark to see if he was breathing visibly. The Clanless reached
out to check for a pulse. The Corduran’s skin was cold and clammy. Shit…
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Harata tried to calm himself and patiently
search for a heartbeat, but the panic rising inside him wouldn’t allow it. I’ve
got to get a hold of myself.
At first, he thought he must be hallucinating when a small, floppy-eared
rabbit came hopping out of the brush. The rabbit, with some unnatural air of
determination, bounced right up to the two men, stopping on top of Takaeyama’s
chest. The little creature sniffed at the Corduran, then in the direction of the
astounded Harata. The Clanless stared aimlessly at the rabbit. Could things get
any stranger?
“Hello?” a voice called from the brush. It had the pitch of a
female’s and was somewhat tremulous. A small figure made its way into the
clearing. “Sorry. I’m a bit later than I’d expected. Hang on a second,
though.”
The little person, whoever it was, moved further into the clearing, then
unexpectedly sat down in the grass. The figure remained there, motionless, until
finally it groaned.
“That was worse than I thought.”
“Who are you?” Harata asked, dazed.
“I’m Yukiiae. Are you Harata?”
“Yes…”
“At your service.” The girl was close now. He couldn’t see her well
in the darkness, but he was astounded by her small stature. He stood up. Her
head barely reached his shoulder. “Now,” she said in a very businesslike
tone, “where’s the Night’s Herald?”
“Over there…” Have I passed out? Am I dreaming? What is going
on?
“Ok. He’s been shot, right? Let’s go take care of him first.”
“You’re Decameron?”
“That’s right.”
“What about…?” Harata gestured back toward Takaeyama.
“I can’t do anything about him right now.”
“Is he…? He’s not…?”
“He hasn’t died. Kinjal will watch over him for now.”
“Kinjal?” Harata looked around for signs of another person.
“The rabbit,” Yukiiae answered, as though that explained everything.
The Clanless shook his head and followed behind her as she strode
purposefully across the clearing. It seemed that, one by one, the Champions
proved more and more mysterious. His head buzzed with questions. What had
Takaeyama done to the HeadHunters, and why had Keisuke called him a
“magician”? Did Keisuke wish to kill them solely because it was his job, or
was there some deeper, more malicious reason? How did the Decameron girl know
where to find them? How had she known his name?
She’d approached Blue and Mina, who looked at Harata quizzically
through the dark.
“Hello,” she said softly. Harata found her voice pleasant. “I’m
Yukiiae. I’m here to help. If I could just take a look…”
She examined Blue’s wound carefully. The darkness made the work more
difficult. From the large bag she had slung over her shoulder, she pulled out
all manner of liquids, salves, and plasters until she found what she wanted. She
worked quickly and in silence, until finally she said,
“That ought to do it for now. I’ll take a better look at home in the
light.”
“Thanks,” answered Blue, grateful that the throbbing had ceased.
“Home?” asked Harata.
“Yeah, later,” the Decameron said evasively. “Let me see your
face.”
The Clanless allowed her to smear a fragrant salve on his cheek and apply
a plaster. She finished quickly.
“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “Next…”
She shuddered involuntarily as she turned. Harata thought at first
she’d go to Takaeyama, but was mistaken. Instead, she searched out Keisuke.
The Clanless walked with her, somehow afraid to leave her alone with the Angemal.
She shook terribly as she approached him, squatted down and murmured,
“Let me help you.”
“Go away.”
“It’ll only take a minute. You don’t want to end up with problems
with that arm, do you?”
“Fine.” Keisuke was peering at the girl in the darkness. Harata
couldn’t make out the look on his face.
Yukiiae took a bit longer with Keisuke, as she kept having to pause and
still her trembling hands. After a while she said,
“There. I’ll take a better look at it later.”
The Commander merely grunted.
The Decameron stood and faced Harata.
“You should get everyone ready to go. We’ll get out of here soon.”
“And go where?”
“I live in an outpost not far from here. We can stay there for a bit-
we’ll be safe. There’s always a mix of Clans, and I have my own wards on the
place. You guys can get some rest and have a couple of hot meals for a
change.”
Harata was too dazed to argue. Instead, he turned and went to tell
everyone they’d be leaving soon. He approached Kat first, and crouched near
her. She was shaking.
“We’re leaving soon.”
“Okay.” Her voice was flat. Within, she quaked with fear. They
could’ve all been killed that night. The Empirian, watching the events unfold,
realized she was dealing with people who possessed power equal to her own, and
far more terrifying. Had she been called upon to defend herself or any of the
others, she’d have died. Straining to watch Harata’s battle in the darkness,
she’d prayed and prayed for his victory, at the same time afraid of his
terrible power. The burden of trying to hide with fear weighed heavy on her. All
she wanted to do was scream or run.
“Kat, are you okay?” His voice was so gentle, so unlike the hardened
warrior he’d proven himself to be. She wanted to shut him out, to regain the
cold composure she’d lost. She couldn’t.
“I’m scared,” she murmured.
A moment later, she was in his arms. Awkwardly, Harata held her, at a
loss for what to say.
“I don’t want to die,” she sobbed against his chest. “Protect me.
Please.”
“I will,” he promised quietly.
They remained in silence for a few moments longer. Finally, Kat broke
away, wiping her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone entirely different. “I don’t
know what came over me. I was being foolish.”
“It’s alright.”
“No it isn’t,” Her voice had grown cold once more. “It’s
unseemly to lose one’s head. Forgive me.” After a pause, she added,
“I’ll go wait with Mina and Blue, shall I?” and strode off in the dark.
Harata shook his head. What’s wrong with everyone? He turned and
went over to where Ayame and Chieko were sitting. Fortunately, the GelbFaust had
stopped crying. She sat up as Harata approached.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We’re going pretty soon.”
Chi was squinting up at him in the dark.
“Is Blue ok?” she sniffed again.
“Yeah, he’ll be alright.”
“What about Takaeyama?”
Harata sighed.
“I dunno. Maybe.”
“What did he do to those guys before?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why did you fight that other guy?”
“I had to.”
“Is he our prisoner?”
“No. He’s a Champion.”
“Then why did he fight you?”
“Long story.”
“Who’s that girl who showed up?”
“She’s Yukiiae, the Decameron Champion.”
“Where are we going?”
“Decameron outpost.” Harata heaved a big sigh. “We’re going to
get out of here pretty soon. Could you guys go and wait over with Mina, Kat, and
Blue?”
“Okay,” answered Chieko. She and Ayame both stood. As they passed,
Harata whispered to Ayame,
“Thanks.”
She nodded slightly and walked off.
Kazuki had gathered up the weapons of the fallen HeadHunters, and now
stood next to a pile of them, looking unsure of what to do next.
“Any of those guys still kickin’?” Harata asked.
“Nope,” Kazu replied. “I got their stuff.”
“Great. Let’s take a look.”
They sorted through the pile of weapons, the Clanless picking out a few
of the smaller firearms that looked easier to use. Some of the guns were strange
contraptions, with liquid-filled bullets, or some that fired odd, bullet-shaped
things that were actually a series of poison-tipped needles. He wondered how
many of these were Mina’s inventions. He chose a sword for himself, being
unhappy with the balance of the one Keisuke had chosen for him. He took a
rucksack from one of the deceased HeadHunters and overturned it, emptying its
contents. He then refilled it with the weapons he’d selected, all but his own
sword, which he strapped on using a scabbard he took from one of the Angemal. He
held the heavy rucksack out to Kazu, who’d been watching.
“Can you carry this stuff?”
“No problem.” The Pantagruel hefted the bag as though it was full of
feathers.
Out of the dark, Yukiiae approached them. Kazu squinted a moment, then
called,
“Yukiiae?”
“Kazu, that you?”
The huge man rushed forth and scooped up the tiny woman, hefting her into
the air.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his voice full of
laughter.
“Same as you.”
“You’re a Champion? No way!”
“Yup. How’s Riku?”
“Right as rain, thanks t’you.”
“And Raiken?”
“Same old,” Kazu’s voice sounded heavy.
“Well, I’ll send Akiko over there to check.”
“Thanks.”
“You two know each other?” Harata broke in.
“Yeah, Yukiiae comes to my town. She’s a great healer!”
The Decameron looked down, and Harata was sure she was blushing, though
he couldn’t see.
“Put me down, Kazu,” she said, laughing. He obeyed, and she turned to
Harata, saying, “I’m ready to go now. Can we leave?”
“Yeah, everyone’s ready.” He cast about, realizing that the mess in
the clearing was a dead giveaway that they’d been there. Yukiiae seemed to
read his actions, and said,
“Don’t worry about this place, or the trail from here. I’ve got
some friends who will take care of it.”
Harata didn’t feel much like arguing. He was tired, and wanted to get
out of there as soon as possible. He merely nodded and turned away. As he passed
by Keisuke, he called,
“Get up. We’re leaving.”
They straggled out of the clearing, Yukiiae in the lead. Kazuki carried
Takaeyama, who was still unconscious. As they wove their way through the forest,
none was sorry to leave the place behind.
The Decameron outpost was a sprawling compound in the hills, comprised of
a series of longhouses. Very few lights shone out of the windows, and some
buildings were entirely dark. As it was the middle of the night, this was not
surprising. Yukiiae led them to one of the darkened buildings, inside, and down
a long central corridor. They didn’t meet anyone along the way.
She took them to a spacious room and switched on the light. The room was
immaculate, from its plank floor to whitewashed walls. Even the rafters above
had an air of having been scrubbed clean. On either side of the long room were
rows of beds covered in snow-white linens. Beside each bed stood a sturdy little
nightstand, made of rustic looking wood. A large window on the opposite wall had
pale curtains drawn over it. After weeks of sleeping in the grass and dirt of
the forest, to the Champions this place looked like the most comfortable room in
the world.
At last, Harata could get a good look at their final Champion. In the
light, her smallness astounded him. Despite her tiny stature, she was perfectly
proportioned, with none of the distortions one sometimes finds in the very
small. She wore clothes of rough homespun, dyed with natural inks. Her shorts
were a tannish color, and her short-sleeved shirt a deep red. This color was
echoed in her hair, soft and wavy, cut boyishly short. Her skin was a pale,
creamy color, and her wide eyes were violet. When she smiled, her face was
radiant, her countenance soothing. However, at times Harata could see her
expression change. When her face relaxed, she bore a troubled look. The Clanless
supposed this was natural in someone who’d spent her life looking over the
sick and wounded.
As promised, she re-checked everyone’s wounds. Harata saw that she had
a silver bangle, set with a deep red stone, hanging from her wrist. When she’d
finished, she said,
“You guys should get some sleep. I’ll come by late tomorrow morning
with breakfast, and then you can all get cleaned up. Don’t worry about watch
tonight. I’ve asked someone to look out for you.”
She pointed out a few minor details, such as the bathroom, the robes
she’d prepared for them, and the basket in which to deposit dirty clothes.
Finally, she said,
“Kazu, if you could help me just one more minute… Sorry.”
“No problem,” answered the Pantagruel, who followed behind her as she
left, carrying the still prone Takaeyama.
“Goodnight all,” she called softly. “See you tomorrow.”
