Echoes of a Shattered Age (4 page)

Chapter Five

As she made her way up to the peak of Mount Yamanake, Akemi reflected on her own training. Her teacher always seemed to know exactly how to incorporate the correct training methods to complement her abilities. As a girl, she had been capable of so much more than her classmates, and the master knew this. He’d been training Kenjiro for three years before she began, never once implying that she was actually exceeding her older brother’s progress.

Sensei had been adamant about her performing without ego, which he’d constantly tried to hammer into her head. She’d always had a comment or a question about everything, and she never hesitated to say how she felt. Akemi laughed when she recalled the time when Sensei realized that she had a thirst for battle. Many times had the master scolded her for fighting with a devious grin on her face, while her opponent would struggle to maintain a solid footing amidst the barrage that was the little soon-to-be ninja.

“Akemi!” Sensei would say. “Do you forget that battle is a last resort? A measure taken only when all efforts for peace have been exhausted? You have a love for the martial arts and the martial way, and I commend you for that, especially at such an early age, but be mindful of your insatiable desire for the fight.”

“Sensei,” the young girl asked innocently, “is there anything else in life? All people do is fight. We always fight, but in different ways. Some people fight in school, some people fight in war, my parents always fight to make money for us to live in a nice home. They don’t fight for real, but they sometimes don’t look very happy when they think we do not see. Don’t we all just fight in different ways?”

The master looked at his six-year-old student while hiding his amazement.
First her brother names his sword after the legendary ancestor he has never known, and now his sister at this age has developed a philosophy on her own!

“Part of what you say is true,” Akutagawa said, his face a mask of calm. “But you must remember patience. Your love for battle is fed by your lack of a challenge. When you meet someone who is better than yourself, will you then retain this vigor and hunger for the fight that you have now? That may be a question you will have to answer one day.”

I doubt it,
the girl thought, but kept those feelings to herself. The truth was that she had never met a person aside from her brother that could challenge her. Not even the senior students of the class could match her skill. She remembered one sparring match that she’d had with a twelve-year student. It was a typical medium-contact match, and all in class expected for the senior student to prevail, given the age and size gap.

“Akemi,” the master had announced. “Today you will fight Tanaka in a medium-contact match.”

Tanaka, one of Sensei’s senior students, was seventeen years old and very skilled. He stood five feet seven inches tall with a slender frame. Being one of the most skilled students in the master’s class, he restrained his curiosity at the decision. He dare not speak back to the master or question his judgment, but Tanaka couldn’t help but wonder why he was being matched against a student who was only eight years old, had only been learning for two years, and was also female.

The master, seeing the concern in his student’s face, added, “Underestimation of your adversary is most dangerous.”

Unconvinced, Tanaka bowed respectfully to the master and then to Akemi, who did the same. They both took their customary stances.

Once the match began, Tanaka came in at Akemi with a simple right-handed open palm thrust, which Akemi avoided easily with a simple side step. Tanaka, expecting the evasion, followed up the attack with a right-legged sideways kick, which the ever-quick young girl simply slapped aside. The two stepped back, eyeing each other. After a moment, Tanaka frowned and glanced down at his ankle, which was red and stinging.
This girl is only eight years old. It’s impossible for her to have this kind of power!
He was drawn from his thoughts by the master’s voice.

“Akemi!” Akutagawa’s voice was stern. “Concentrate, pay attention and be serious!”

Tanaka looked back in amazement and fury when he saw the small girl, standing several feet in front of him, her face so wrinkled from fighting back a smile that she looked as if she would burst into laughter. Although the master disapproved of her attitude, this did little to repair Tanaka’s wounded pride.

He moved in quickly with a series of open palm thrusts and stiff-handed chops that would have easily defeated more than half the students that sat watching in amazement. Still grinning, Akemi avoided every attack.

Her smile did vanish, however, when Tanaka caught her in the ankle with a foot sweep, tripping her to the floor. As soon as she was up again, the senior student was on her with a barrage of forward knife-hand strikes, one after another, driving the girl back on her heels. He snapped his foot up, catching the younger student under the chin and re-depositing her to the floor. The blow hurt a bit more than it should have, and it was then that Akemi realized that her opponent was no longer holding back. Her superior attitude had been injured by her now-stinging chin. Now it was Tanaka’s turn to stand and smile.

The master watched in silent disapproval. He would let them learn this lesson on their own, though he did smile inwardly at his students’ wonderful progress.

Akemi stood up and faced her opponent, who towered over her by more than a foot and a half. She shifted into a left-legged stance, putting her right leg forward. This caught Tanaka by surprise. He had not fought a left-legged opponent before, and now both of their front legs were facing each other. The arrogant girl smiled again when she saw the concern on her opponent’s face. Several seconds passed.

Finally, Tanaka decided to attack, but every time he made a move, Akemi’s rear foot snapped out and tapped Tanaka lightly on his shin. He could hardly believe the speed of the little upstart. She was clearly mocking him, but it was the ease with which she did it that infuriated him. He doubled his efforts, again producing the same series of forward knife hand strikes. This time Akemi dodged every attack without retreating a step.

Tanaka followed up with a high roundhouse kick, then a lower one. Akemi dodged both kicks and then, in a blink of the master’s amazed eye, Tanaka was on his heels.

Akemi was on him in a flurry of punches, knife-hand strikes and reverse roundhouse kicks that had the older boy skittering backward. He managed to block and evade for a moment, but in short order Akemi landed a series of palm strikes to his midsection and then three dizzying kicks to his chest, depositing him to the floor in a breathless heap.

Swelling with triumph, the little girl stood tall and scanned the room at her astonished classmates. Her smile melted away, however, when her eyes fell upon her teacher, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, looking out the window opposite the sparing floor with his back to the class and to Akemi and Tanaka in particular. “Class is dismissed … thank you.” As the students quietly filed out the door, a compulsion that she could not name held Akemi where she stood. After all the students had gone, the master turned just enough to face the door, and exited the room. Akemi stood alone, feeling defeated instead of victorious.

How long ago that had been. Akemi had never forgotten the feeling of failure she had felt on that day. It was also the day she’d learned the most about herself. Three years after she had completed her training with Sensei Akutagawa, Akemi had become a member of the Azuma Ninja Clan and quickly rose in the ranks to become one of the most valued and feared demon hunters. Now, years later, Akemi was a lone ninja and demon hunter.

* * *

Once she reached her destination, Akemi found an open area and set up a small portable shrine. The first time she’d used the shrine was to charge Sekimaru, the sword that she forged when she was seventeen years old. The master had waited two years longer than he did with Kenjiro to ensure that she was mature enough to forge the weapon. He had no doubt that she would create a powerful sword, which she did, but he wanted to be certain that she wouldn’t become overzealous.

Akemi sat down in front of the shrine, back erect, legs crossed, and drew Sekimaru. It was a single-handed sword, two feet long, light, and perfectly balanced. The scabbard, as well as the double-braided hilt, was black as night and simple in design. Though she had forged it, the sword was mysterious to her. Whenever a creature from the abyss was near, she could feel a presence from the sword, a hunger to feed on the blood of a demon. She felt the hunger of Sekimaru
today.

With the sword in a reverse grip, she held it out in front of her and put her left hand behind the right, all fingers curled except for the middle and index fingers that were pressed together and pointing upward. She closed her eyes and began to meditate. As she sank further into meditation, she felt power emanating from the blade. As she descended further, she felt the connection between her and the sword. Its hunger signified the presence of abysmal creatures in this world.

The air began to stir, growing more intense until the branches of the trees bent and swayed, and the leaves on the ground swirled around her. The wind howled as if it were a banshee, protesting its awakening. The blade of Sekimaru glowed with a golden hue. The sword and its wielder became one, and at that moment everything stopped and the ninja opened her eyes, her glowing sword held before her. Her disheveled hair rested on her shoulders and over her face. For a time, she sat and stared at the weapon. Then her eyes narrowed and there was a brightness, a zeal that shone in them. When she spoke, it was a loving whisper. “Sing, my sword.”

***

Chapter Six

After a light practice, the two friends were on their way back to Kenyatta’s house. They’d enjoyed sparring in Capoeira together since childhood, and had often been called by Kita’s father to stop after dancing all day and into the night. Of the many forms of martial arts they’d learned, it was Capoeira, part dance, part game, and part martial art, that the two friends enjoyed the most.

With music and dance, the villagers trained and played and laughed. The dance of Capoeira involved the body leaning forward, and the dancer stepping to the left with the left leg bent forward and the right leg almost swinging to the left. Then the motion was repeated in the opposite direction, with the right leg coming forward and the left swinging to the right. Within this rhythm, mostly kicks would be used, by means of standing, lying on the ground, or even balancing on the hands. Capoeira was a treat to watch, and even more of a treat for the practitioners.

On the way to Kenyatta’s house, the two friends traded jokes and laughed while catching up on the current events in each other’s lives.

“Hey Ken,” Kita said. “You remember my girlfriend Benita?

“Yeah man, she’s a cute one. Better be holdin’ on to dat one for a while, ya?”

“Too late,” Kita feigned regret. “She says that I practice martial arts and come to see you too much, and that I neglect her. She thinks it would be best if we just be
friends
.” Kita said that last word with exaggerated distaste.

“That so?” Kenyatta snickered.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Oh nothin’, I was jyas tinking dat maybe since you’re not with her anymore, I can be givin’ her a call.” Kita shoved him, and they both laughed. “Don’t be getting all swollen about it, man,” Kenyatta said.

After he thought about it, Kita rolled his eyes. How could Kenyatta possibly call the girl when phones hadn’t worked in well over two hundred years? Finally they reached Kenyatta’s house, and the two friends sat down for some tea.

Kenyatta leaned on the table and took a sip of the cool, fruity tea. “So whatcha tinking bout dis energy? I feel it a lot stronger now that I’m not concentrating on not knocking you unconscious.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Kita just shrugged and took a sip. It was an excellent blend of several different types of fruit that was just sweet enough with a tinge of tanginess to balance it. “I don’t know what to think of this. Maybe we’re just imagining things because the only people we’ve been able to fight in months are each other.”

The two friends leaned back in their chairs, enjoying their tea. “I’ll tell you this, Ken. I’ve been having an urge to get my weapons and start practicing again. I don’t know why, but I think something big is gonna happen. Mostly though, I’ve been thinking about my staff.”

Kenyatta leaned forward in his chair. “You mean the one that you use only when we have a real fight? The last time you used dat, we both fight in the standoff between a band of samurai ninja. That was a real fight man, more ninja and samurai than we ever seen in one place.”

“Well,” Kita responded, “I have a feeling that we’re in store for something bigger than any of the challenges we’ve faced before. In fact, I think that all of our previous encounters will seem small compared to what’s coming.”

A grim look came and went across Kenyatta’s face so quickly it might not have ever been there. “Ya, man,” he chuckled, brightening the mood. “Maybe this time we gettin’ a challenge for real. It’s been a long time, ya know. The truth is, I’ve been having the same feelings as you, and before you got here, I had been practicing with my swords for about a month now. I even make a new attack.” Kita sat up, interested.

Taking Kita’s interest as a cue, Kenyatta continued. “It’s a move where you charge in low, with the left shoulder down. You ram into them, push ’em off balance, and then bring tha sword in the right hand to slice down.” Kenyatta’s eyes glittered. “Then, ya bring in the left one and slice upward, allowing the power of the cut to pull ya all the way up. If done correctly, it could be a devastating maneuver.”

Kita raised one eyebrow and nodded his head.

Seeing his friend’s doubt, Kenyatta grabbed his swords and motioned for Kita to follow him outside. He walked over to an old, dead palm tree that was infested with ants. The tree looked to be over seventeen feet tall and at least four feet around. Kenyatta stood several spans from the tree and lowered into a crouch. Sand sprayed behind the islander as he charged the tree, slammed it with his shoulder so hard the tree shook, then slashed low with his right sword, then high with his left. True as he had said, the second swipe of his sword launched Kenyatta almost to the top of the tree and split it in half, bottom to top.

Kita was impressed as he watched his friend in the air, turning as he descended back to the ground. “Not bad if you’re looking for a flashy way to make firewood.”

“What?” Kita’s offhandedness had Kenyatta incredulous. “You tinking you can do better, ya?”

Kita snickered at his friend then reacted quickly, catching the sword Kenyatta had suddenly tossed at him. Kita snorted, then laughed aloud as he turned his back on the oath-swearing Kenyatta, who hopped and danced about. Once inside, Kita turned and leaned against the door, still laughing at the sight of his friend, hopping and yelping and fidgeting as the resident ants from inside the dead tree crawled all over him.

“Hey,” Kenyatta yelled. “Instead a standin’ der, why don’t you get a bucket of water. These ants are trying to eat me alive!”

“Maybe they’re angry at you for destroying their home. They’re avenging the tree.”

“Ta hell with the tree! These little bastards are tryin’ to suck the blood outta me! Get me some water or something or I’m gonna come jump on you and we can both squirm.” Kita laughed all the harder. Finally, after avoiding a charging Kenyatta, he went around the house and found a bucket, then ran to the ocean and filled it with water for his miserable friend.

* * *

“Something big is about to happen, Ken,” Kita said, after his friend had finally found relief from the effects of the fire ant assault. “I have a feeling we’ll be fighting again, but this time it’ll be different.”

“How so? People don’t jyas throw off powerful energy. They don’t emanate forces this strong from their very being. We can’t even do that.”

“There’s something else out there,” Kita replied. “And I don’t think we’re gonna like it.”

“And that’s why you come here now,” Kenyatta surmised.

“Yeah.” Kita stared at the palms of his hands as though they held the answers he sought. “I can feel something inside me. Like something coming awake. My vision is clearer, I feel stronger, and my mind is sharper than usual.”

Kenyatta nodded as Kita spoke. “Same for me. And I think it’s time we talk to someone else about it.”

Kita looked up. “Your sister?” he asked.

“Don’t look so excited, man,” Kenyatta said, narrowing his eyes. “She don’t fight like us because she don’t see it as her way, but she is very powerful, man. In fact, she’s one of the most powerful women in her village.”

“I believe it,” Kita said. “Whenever I’m around her I could feel this power coming off her, like a presence infinitely larger than the person standing there. I feel like I can fight pretty well, but there’s something much bigger about her. Something that is far beyond a sword or an arrow.”

Kenyatta’s still narrowed eyes bore into his friend as Kita talked. “Yeah man. I’m sure you felt all warm and protected around her, right? I’m sure you’re standing in awe and admiring her ‘big’ presence, ya?”

Kita snorted and looked away. “Quit being ridiculous, I’m serious.”

“Uh huh,” Kenyatta muttered, leaning back. They had grown up together as brothers, after all. There was little they could hide from each other.

“So when were you thinking we would take this trip all the way to your sister? It’s not like we can just jump on one of those planes my great grandpa used to talk about.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on that,” Kenyatta replied. “There’s a mental link between us. We can feel it when one of us needs the other. Taliah can do this thing she calls
skimming
, where the space around her warps and creates some sort of opening for her to step through. The way she tell it, every dimension has a sort of energy vortex that acts as a conduit to other dimensions. She can use them to travel great distances in a short amount of time. It’s not like what you would think—ya don’t go through a dark portal of blackness like they did in the movies … when there
were
movies.” They shared a quiet chuckle. “The way she tell it,” Kenyatta continued, “Each dimension exists somewhat parallel to ours.

“The heavens and the hells are not so much as above and below us, but alongside us, sitting a bit higher or lower. She says it’s all about vibration. The demon realm vibrates slowly, whereas the heaven realm vibrates extremely fast. Apparently, the gods blessed her with the ability to briefly, very briefly, raise or lower her body’s vibration to travel through either of these dimensions to get to a faraway place, since the laws of nature there don’t really work the same way as here.”

“If she can travel through either dimension, why in the world would she choose to travel through the abysmal realms?”

Kenyatta shrugged. “She says there’s just as much risk trying to travel through the heavens, something about enticement, and how very few humans could handle it.”

“Why did she leave in the first place?” Kita asked. “Couldn’t she study here?”

“No,” Kenyatta answered. “In order to develop, she had to travel to where her teachers live. Apparently, Ghana is one of the few places in the world that has a number of people touched by the Gods in some way. From what she says, there aren’t many people in the world who’ve been touched by the Gods, and those that are, are never close together. But Ghana has more than a handful of these people she calls
Ascended
. However powerful she’s become, they are well beyond her, hard as I find that to believe.”

Kita rubbed his face. “Well I’ll admit right now that all this is a bit over my head.”

Kenyatta nodded. “Mine too.”

“So how do we contact her? You just think about her and she’ll come?”

Kenyatta rubbed his hands through his long, thinly twined locks and sighed. “Taliah once told me that siblings who are very close could establish a bond that is so strong, they can feel each other’s presence. Wit the abilities she possesses, she can communicate with me telepathically. Only problem was that I was not born with the same abilities as her, so me have to clear my mind and tink of exactly what I want to say to her. If my mind is clear enough, she can receive whatever thoughts I’m directing at her.”

“Well you better get at it then, my friend,” Kita said. “I feel like we don’t have a lot of time.”

More than half the day had gone by after their conversation before Kenyatta successfully established a telepathic link with his sister, and an hour after that, she was on the island with him and Kita.

Taliah was almost Kenyatta’s height, with flowing, thick black hair neatly combed and freely hanging past the middle of her back. From her body radiated a power that seemed to glow just beneath her smooth brown skin. Her eyes, although round, came to a slant at the ends, and the whites of her eyes were as bright as any Kita had ever seen.

Taliah wore a beach dress that was made of linen and was tied at the waist on the left side. The dress was a beautiful blend of white background with brown palm trees and pale pink flowers. To Kita, everything about her was exotic. Even her smile was a blend of gentleness and ferocity that could be likened to a panther. When she walked, she moved with the same grace as the mystical cat and exuded an aura that was just as beautiful and dangerous. The most distinct feature about her, however, was what separated her from her brother. Although she was Jamaican, she lacked most of the Jamaican accent that Kenyatta had. Having spent most of her life in different countries, and a very long time in Ghana, her native accent had faded to no more than an occasional spark of her islander lingo.

After a while of catching up, they spoke of the strange emanations that Taliah said were coming from the direction of the Edge of the World. “I been feelin’ the energy for a while now,” Taliah said. “For a few months, I thought it might come and pass, since it was so random. But in the last few months it’s been getting stronger. It wasn’t until just a few weeks ago that it became so strong that I was able to understand it.”

She sighed. “Some fool is summoning a powerful demon. Maybe more than one.”

Kita and Kenyatta looked at each other and then back to Taliah.

“Someone is summoning a Quentranzi demon,” she continued. “The most powerful of all the fiends in the dark world.”

“Demons?” Kenyatta frowned. “Someone is summoning demons?”

“That would explain what we’ve been feeling,” Kita said.

“This presents us with even more of a problem than a simple demon,” Taliah said. “If this person, whoever he or she,” Taliah paused, “or
it
is, can summon a Quentranzi, that means two things. First, this person has the ability to summon lesser, yet incredibly powerful demons in large numbers, but is also formidable themselves. I think you both will have more than your hands full in dealing with this. You’re going to need help. You have gifts given from the Gods, but this is beyond what you two could handle on your own.”

“So who could possibly be helpin’ us?” Kenyatta asked, his tone darkening.

His sister looked at him and laughed. “You two are special.” As she made the statement she glanced at Kita, who blushed. “But you are not the only ones with gifts. There are others who have similar talents. The only chance you have against what is coming is to align yourselves with people who have similar gifts as your own. You have some time before the fun starts.” Her full lips curved into a smile. “Despite the power of the one who is summoning these fiends, it is going to take some time for it to fully control the things, much less a horde of other lesser dark ones.”

Kita seemed to snap out of the trance he was in, staring at Taliah, and looked excited and concerned at the same time. “Sounds like fun, but how are we supposed to find these other people?”