Extended Holiday
Ch 95: There and Back again
Act 13
Despite the ship’s legendary capabilities and widespread information about said capabilities, after about an hour of travel and adjustments, the Gantrithor had been put at a cruising speed that still seemed to bother everyone onboard. Well, everyone who wasn’t from Earth or could fly anyways.
Grif had several targets set up in a row on the deck of the ship, and was practicing his archery with Avalon, who, to his complete expectation, had produced her own whitewood bow that had been made for her when her own archery teachers had proclaimed her adequate.
“So I realize I should be asking you this more often,” Grif said as he sighted down a shot. “But how goes your studies?”
“They’re about the same for now. A girl can only go so far with the basic manual, and I’ve been studying it for years. But my control is improving, and now that I get to actually practice the theory behind the spells instead of just going over them, it’s much more fun.” She smirked as she hit the bull’s eye. “Not as much fun as spending time with you, though.”
“Yes. Well, I’ll be honest. My reason for asking you out here wasn’t just because of your company, which I assure you is priceless, but Pensword has been asking me about the bow I gave him many years ago. I thought another skilled shot around might be helpful, as I’ve been told I can be somewhat frightening when I’m instructing,” he said as he fired, piercing her arrow.
“Well, if how you act in bed is anything to go by ….” she said as she ran a talon along Grif’s chest.
Grif turned scarlet at that comment. "I hope the trip’s been agreeing with you?” he asked hastily.
“Oh yes,” Avalon purred. “So when do I get to meet with our soon-to-be-student?”
Grif silently prayed Pensword would appear soon, before things became very awkward on the deck of a speeding airship.
A minute later, Pensword entered the deck, and Grif breathed a silent thank you to the Winds. The Pegasus was garbed differently from his usual style. This time he was covered in hides and furs, dressed more like the Thestral Warriors of old. He looked to Grif and to Avalon. “You are teaching me to use one of your sacred weapons, so I shall give it the honor it deserves,” he said by way of explanation. He approached the table and laid the bow on top. It soon became readily apparent just what species was meant to use this range. He grumbled in frustration, ruining the image he’d been trying to project, but also adding a sense of humor into the air that dispersed the awkwardness Grif had experienced earlier. “Get me a box to stand on, Grif.”
“This may come as a shock,” Grif chuckled, “but most cubs are smaller than you when they start. If you can’t reach what you need, then you need to figure out how to get it on your own. Tradition, you know.”
Pensword fixed Grif with the evil eye before taking in his surroundings. At last, seeing no other option, he alighted on the table. “There. Problem solved. Breaking range rules, but problems solved.”
“First, my range, my rules,” Grif said. “Second, this weapon is the single unifier of the Gryphon race. Male or female, young or old, red tailed hawk or hummingbird, monk, baker, or warrior. This bow is something we all learn to use, and we all learn to use it the same way.”
“Very true. I understand, and I will follow the rules and directions,” Pensword answered humbly.
“Let's start with the mechanism,” Grif said as he flipped the switch on his bow and it collapsed. “Have you experimented with the mechanism yet?”
“A little,” Pensword said as he activated his bow.
“This mechanism is an old invention. You can see the advantage of a weapon that becomes easier to stow. However, when it unfolds, the reaction is very powerful. You wouldn’t want Moon River nearby when that happens,” Grif explained.
“No, I would not like that,” Pensword agreed.
“So experiment a little. Tell me how the pull weight feels,” Grif said. “I had to work on approximations, as this weapon’s never been recorded being modified for a Pony before.”
“Will do,” Pensword answered as he tested the draw on the bow. He frowned. “It’s a little stiff. I feel like this could be a hindrance on the battlefield, unless you think I could work hard and get the strength to pull the string.
“We’ll work on that, but do you think you can fire it here?” Grif asked.
“I think so.” Pensword reached over, nocked the arrow on the string, drew it back, and anchored it in place. Then he took aim and let it go. The arrow was embedded faster than he could blink. It had landed in between the second and third circles from the center. His eyes widened in surprise. All he could see was the fletchings for the arrow.
“That's a decent first shot.” Grif chuckled. “For a first timer. Of course, first timers are generally…” He looked to avalon. “Eight years old? Is it still eight?”
“Around that age, yes. Sometimes it’s younger, sometimes older. It depends on the parent.”
“Okay, Avalon. Why don’t you show him a few shots? Let him see how it’s done.”
“Anything you want, Grif,” she said with a wink. She casually strolled up. “You did pretty well for your first shot. You just need to work on building up enough muscle mass to make the prep more fluid, like this. Her arm flowed like water as she gracefully took an arrow, nocked it, anchored to her beak, aimed, then shot. The execution was flawless. “I slowed down for you, so you could see how it’s done. Make sure to take note of my stance next time and try to mimic it.” She fired again. “Now you try.”
Pensword nodded as he took the stance, using the same moves, and somehow used his hooves to pull the string back, sighted down the arrow, and released it. The arrow flew and hit the outer ring of the target.
Grif nodded, not particularly pleased by the shot, but not surprised either. “You let the bow tip forward before you fired,” he noted. “Keep an eye on it, unless you need me to carve you out an aiming line.”
“I’ll try to see if I don’t need it. I am used to iron sights,” Pensword replied. “I shall keep an eye on it the next few times.”
“If it helps, imagine an opponent. See the different parts of their body, and know where the arrow will do the most damage,” Grif explained.
“I will.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He decided to make the bullseye the heart of a Gryphon from the Third Gryphon War. He notched it, and then released it once more. This time the arrow landed closer to the bull’s eye, missing by about an inch.
“Well, that is good. I can do better, but it is doing well for my first day.”
“Better than most cubs start, especially given the weapon,” Grif said.
“Oh wow. This is shaping up to be a good lesson.”
Avalon gently rapped Pensword across the head. “Don’t get cocky,” she warned.
“Roger.” His face fell a little. “Mom used to say that, but my usual response is isn’t it always a good lesson if you come away with just one shred of knowledge more than you started?”
“You’ll come away with more than a shred, I expect,” Grif said.
“But to say any more than a shred would be a boost.”
“Okay, so tell me what you’ve noted about your bow so far. What’s its personality?” Grif asked.
“It likes to move the opposite way of how I am aiming it,” Pensword answered. “And I do mean opposite, anytime I have tried so far to compensate, it seems to draw the other way. Also, it feels like it fights me when I lift it up.”
“It hasn’t accepted you yet.” Grif nodded. “That can take a while. Your bow had a previous master, so that makes things harder.”
“Ah, well,” He paused. “Who? Does it know?” he asked looking at the bow. “Depending on who owned it, it might be why.”
“I figure you’d have recognised the crest carved into the upper arm,” Grif said. “And it knows. It most assuredly knows.”
“I thought so. I just wanted to hear it from your beak.” He looked to the bow. “Your previous master hurt me so badly I will never recover from it, so I will make sure that you will only be used in full combat. The only Pony blood you will ever taste again will be traitor’s blood.”
“For now you won’t be using it in combat.” Grif shook his head firmly. “Until it accepts you, I want you to avoid using it.”
“I know, but I want it to know beyond any doubt. If it behaves, then I will fulfill my end of my words, but not until I know I can use this bow and not risk my own fur and hide.”
“I know you keep good care of your weapons, Pensword, but for now you should spend some time with it every day. Wax the string, polish the arms, even if you fletch some arrows, have it out and around you. Let it feel your care.”
“And for Winds’ sake, don’t threaten it. You killed its former master. The least you can do is explain why in proper terms, instead of just glossing over it. It’s going to be stubborn, like its master was. Help it to see its previous master was wrong in his deeds, and then it might be more pliable,” Avalon said.
“Not right now.” Pensword growled. “Seeing that crest is still ... I need to take a lap or four around the ship to calm my mind, or I will likely kill something.” He shook his head. “I thought I was getting better.”
“Take your bow back to your room first,” Grif instructed. “We’ll continue this lesson another time.”
“Understood. And I will comply, Teach,” Pensword said as he turned to leave the range. He winced halfway to the door. It seemed the bow had pinched him when he folded it up.
As soon as he escaped into the ship, Grif collapsed and stored his bow. “And as for you, we’re heading straight to the cabin,” he said with mock severity as he turned to Avalon. “You’ve got a lot to answer for.”
“And I can’t wait,” she said as she swayed her hips and sashayed ahead of him. “Just be gentle with me. I’m holding precious cargo.”
With that said, the two left the deck. Their door slammed behind them as they burst into their cabin. Gryphons and Ponies alike would later report how it sounded like a tornado had made its way onto the ship as they passed the suite. The couple refused to comment.
Three days later, the vast plains and forests of Equestria were long gone, as were the oceans, cliffs, and plateaus of Gryphonia. The deserts of Saddle Arabia had only just begun melting away to reveal large mountain ranges and deep green valleys, fields partially submerged in water, and orchards of different fruits surrounded by forests of bamboo shoots that seemed to grow everywhere. And then it rose up quite suddenly in front of them, a massive stone wall that seemed to have grown from the very earth itself. It towered to the point where it practically scraped against the Gantrithor’s hull as they passed over.
The wall was composed of massive block sections like a giant’s bricks connecting by a wide pathway that seemed to hug the terrain, it was composed mainly of granite with green jade covering the battlements in artistic patterns for good luck. Surprised Kitsune of all fur colors stopped their constant patrol of the walls to stare at the great machine. Their silk uniforms and long braids of head fur, some nearly at floor length, billowed in the sudden wind as they braced their spears for combat in case such action should prove necessary. Some had one tail, some had two, though as hard as the crew on the Gantrithor searched, the most tails they could identify were four.
One of these four-tailed ones seemed to be attempting to contact them, though only the other Kitsune and Hammer Strike seemed to understand him. Tiny flames leapt up in each Kitsune’s hand, and surprisingly in Hammer Strike’s hoof as the guard demanded an explanation and posted his warning. Ping explained as rapidly as he could with exaggerated motions, even as his flame bounced and bobbed. The soldier’s face softened, and he nodded, bowing in the Gantrithors direction. They passed the wall and into the countryside. Half an hour later, they found the country replaced with a city of shingled sloped roofs beneath them. Black, red, and gold permeated the city’s color scheme, and at the city's center, surrounded by a large red stone wall, stood an enormous palace. Gold statues depicting the great celestial dragons could be seen in the courtyard, but they could make out little else from that distance besides the large red pillars that seemed to hold the front of the palace up.
It seemed their use of an airship had not been entirely surprising as they approached a very basic airship dock that had been set up on the outskirts of the city. However, it soon became quite obvious their hosts had not counted on the scale of the craft. The dock only came up to the Grantrithor’s belly, and it soon became necessary for them to be ferried down by hot air balloons.
Pensword looked out from his spot in the balloon. Once again, he found himself feeling incredibly small compared to his surroundings. The balloon basket was incredibly roomy with walls that reached higher than an average Pony could see over on all fours. As a result, Pensword had to grip the lip of the basket with his forehooves while bracing his hind hooves on the curving portion for support as he looked out over their surroundings at the towering buildings that made up the capital. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather giggled together as they hovered in the air and watched a wide-eyed Pensword practically vibrating as they drew closer to the ground.
Vital Spark looked down and whistled at the sight. His staff lay on his back, and his study materials had been packed into the saddle bags he carried on either side. “I always wondered what it was like in the Far East. I guess now I’ll be finding out. Say, Clover, did you ever get to come here back when you were Star Swirl’s apprentice?”
“Once, but I was never allowed this far into their territory. Star Swirl visited one of their monasteries, and we discussed magical philosophy with the monks.”
“As in the morals behind magic? Or do you mean its ultimate purpose in helping life progress beyond its current state of being and limits?”
“Well, Star Swirl and the head monk probably discussed that, but for myself, I was seated amongst the junior monks. We mostly discussed applications and showed off small pieces of spellwork we had learned.”
“Is that where you learned how to do the whole fire Pony thing?”
“No, that’s where I learned to manifest the hundred hoofed, or tailed in their terms, deity who exists in everyone and punishes those who do wrong.”
“Sounds a lot like a technique I remember hearing about back home. Gold, shiney, capable of one hundred and one styles, the final being a giant beam of energy blasted from the manifestation’s mouth after capturing the enemy?”
“You’ve read about it?” she asked.
“... In a manner of speaking.”
“Just be careful,” Clover warned. “Don’t say or do anything without my approval. The last thing we want is to insult these Kitsune while we’re in their territory.”
“I’ll do my best to be respectful and treat their culture properly. By the way, Clover, did you want me to call you my master or mistress or something like that, or do you just prefer Clover? Seeing as you’ve decided to make me your apprentice and all, I figure we should get that sorted out.”
“Shifu,” she told him. “That’s what I was to refer to Star Swirl as, and that's what you will call me while we’re here.”
“Yes, ma’–I mean Shifu.”
Clover nodded, preparing herself for what was to come.
“So … excited?” Grif looked to Avalon as they rode down. “I mean, Kitsune interacting with Ponies may be rare, but interacting with Gryphons is unheard of, isn’t it?”
“Interacting?” She rubbed her beak in thought, even as Snowy hooted gently and preened her feathers. “Yes. I suppose it is, isn’t it?”
“You don’t seem excited,” Grif noted. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I guess I’m just feeling a little … pensive right now.” She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing. And besides, I don’t want to worry my husband too much now, do I?” She smiled gently as she caressed his cheek. “Why don’t we just enjoy the view?”
“You know you can tell me anything?” Grif asked as he wrapped a wing over her.
Avalon chuckled. “Like I could keep a secret from you?”
“I’m a lot denser than you think.” He chuckled, resting his head on hers.
Hammer Strike and Rarity remained silent as they looked down together. Rarity nuzzled against him to offer come comfort while he laid a hoof over her shoulders as they watched their slow descent to the grounds below.
“I know you’re not looking forward to this, darling. If there’s anything I can do ….”
“I’m trying to stay positive. I’ll at least get to see Haku again.”
“And I’ll be right there with you. We all will.”
The great guardian dragon statue glared down at them, its eyes forever impartial as they judged those who would enter the city.
“I know,” Hammer Strike replied.
There loud sound of heavy marching echoed as the guests disembarked from the balloons onto the ground. The rasping jingle of metal plates and rings filled the air as a large contingent of armored Kitsune soldiers approached. Many of them brandished spears and had poles sticking up from their backs bearing banners. All of them had their head fur rolled into identical top knots. Three Kitsune stood at the front. One was wearing a similar suit of armor with a crested helmet. The other two, however, were dressed in red silk robes with long billowing sleeves. One wore a large square-like black hat with a top slanted towards the back and two flaps sticking out from the front and the back respectively. The other Kitsune wore a round black hat with a gold bead on it’s top with a long braid hanging from his yellow head fur.
In unison, these three approached the group and gave a short bow.
“Greetings, Hammer Strike Sama, and guests,” the square-hatted figure spoke. His Equish sounded stiff and blocky, but it was clear and understandable. “I am Chancellor Hikaru. To my right is General Tatsu, and to my left is Magistrate Lee. We are honored to meet you.”
He turned to the kitsune delegates as they bowed respectfully. A rapid conversation was held in Neighponese for a moment, then the delegates seemed to understand, and hurried to melt in with the soldiers, emerging at the back of the column. Sai joined the three at the front.
“The emperor is most pleased to see you have come in a timely manner, and so impressively. We have been asked to accompany you to the palace. Would you prefer litters? elephants?”
“Whatever is most convenient. If possible, I would prefer to walk,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Very well.” Hikaru bowed again and nodded towards the general, who barked several stiff commands. In a fluid motion the entire column proceeded to do an about face.
“When you are ready, venerable one.” Hikaru gestured to Hammer Strike.
“Lead the way.”
And with that the group set off. Despite the short notice, it seemed the emperor had been prepared for the visit. When they reached the city proper, they were joined by a group of Kitsune in strange uniforms. Many of them had been covered in a large fierce-looking dragon costume. As the parade continued with its procession, the remaining uniformed kitsune identified themselves as skilled acrobats as they performed a series of rolls, flips, and other tricks for the gathering crowds as the Kitsune in the dragon costume writhed and wriggled down the street. Fireworks popped in the air, and soon children were seen running around with streamers as people shouted a welcome to Hammer Strike in Neighponese.
“Well,” Grif said. “you’re sure it was just the three you saved in the past?”
“Kurama, Gakushu, and Haku,” Hammer Strike replied before pausing. “Oh yeah… I also helped saved Michio, Satoru, Naoko. Thawed them out and gave them supplies for their journey back.”
“Did one of those guys cure cancer or something?” Grif asked. “I mean, this is kind of a crazy welcome given they haven’t had visitors from other races in this city. Ever.”
Pensword remained silent, watching the back and forth as he walked with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather. He looked to the two before returning his attention to the Kitsune in front of them.
“Master Kurama went on to fly through the ranks of the militia. By the time he was sixty, he had gained his own lands and a stipend from the emperor's government, as well as the title of daimyo.” It was surprisingly Magistrate Lee who spoke up in a much more polished Equish. “He re-wrote Kitsune war tactics that led to the stopping of no less than seven rebellions against the emperor. Master Gakushu at first lived in dishonor as he left his father's house in order to make swords, but what swords he made! Blades sharper than the icy chill of winter. His works are the most sought after amongst our warriors, and his students continue to produce exquisite craftsmanship. And as for Master Haku, he not only re-defined our understanding of the arcane arts, but also led our people out of a time of great spiritual darkness. These three masters together saw to the survival of our nation during a dark time. They always credited her greatness to you, Hammer Strike Sama.”
A small smile crept on Hammer Strike’s face. “I told them they were bound for great things.”
“A good student honors his master, but a great student also honors the master of his master. We honor you, Hammer Strike Sama, because without your influence, our nation would have lost a much needed guiding light in a dark age.”
“I’m glad to have helped.”
They fell silent as they approached a large gate. Much like the walls, the doors were made of heavy wood, and were a deep red in color, but each door was covered in large gold globes. Above the gate, carved yet again in gold, seemed to be the visage of a fearsome dragon. A great golden pearl was held in its gaping maw. The gates were opened before them with great ceremony as they entered a spacious courtyard where thousands of court officials, chancellors, magistrates, retainers, and other court-employed Kitsune bowed with their foreheads touching the ground before them, paws spread above their heads pointing towards the front of the palace where three figures sat, two on thrones, and one on a large fluffy-looking cushion. Hammer Strike found himself unable to concentrate on the other two as his eye’s drew towards the one on the cushion.
The years had been kind to Haku, but even a Kitsune’s magic could only hold off the effects of age for so long. His fur had thinned around his face, revealing thicker bags under his eyes. His mouth was curved in a gentle smile, and tears trickled down the matted grey fur. His coat, once a brilliant crimson, had turned white with only a few small hints of the red that had existed in his youth. Nineteen pure white tails waved peacefully behind him, and along with the wisdom of years, one could feel the strength of the magic he held in check. To many of the Equestrians present, it reminded them of Celestia in a way. His robe was covered in images of rice paddies and butterflies, and a dim corona of red light tinged with white surrounded each of his tails.
The soldiers, Magistrate Lee, General Tatsu, Sai, and Chancellor Hikaru all proceeded to prostrate themselves before the thrones like everyone else. Grif looked around them. As awkward as it felt standing, he really didn’t feel right bowing. It took a moment, but getting an idea, he reared onto his back paws and stiffened his spine before making a fist in his right hand and placing it in his left palm as his left hand stood straight. He bowed his head slightly and put his hands forward respectfully before allowing himself back on all fours.
Vital Spark bowed his head low as a sign of respect to the emperor and his court, and did the smart thing by staying silent.
Clover simply nodded, and the emperor seemed to accept this, possibly, Vital realized, already knowing the mage’s reputation.
Pensword, Fox Feather, and Lunar Fang all bowed simultaneously in a united show of respect to the monarch. Matthew wasn’t too pleased with the idea, but Pensword overruled him. This was how respect was shown to a ruler as a diplomat. It was not acquiescence as a servant, merely an acknowledgement that they were in charge here, much like a salute given to a commanding officer. Matthew grumbled, but he couldn’t refute the logic, and the two were in harmony again.
The emperor spoke in rather fast Neighponese. Fortunately, one of the bowing Kitsune seemed to be a translator as his voice spoke up.
“Welcome, honored guests, to Neighpon, the pearl of the world. We are most gratified that you decided to accept the invitation we extended to you. It is especially good to see the venerable one, Hammer Strike Sama. It was most entertaining as a cub to hear tales of your adventures from the masters.”
“I hope they didn’t spin the tales too tall,” Hammer Strike replied in Neighponese, much to many of the Kitsune’s shock. He couldn’t help but grin.
“Ah you speak our tongue well,” the emperor said as he chuckled. “We had thought you may have grown rusty over the centuries.”
“My memory tends to be hit or miss, and it just so happens the language stuck with me. My companions, on the other hand, cannot speak or understand it,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“Very well, then. Let me welcome you in person to Neighpon. It is to the pleasure of master Haku,” the emperor gestured to Haku respectfully, “that you have been invited here. It is to our pleasure that you will attend a banquet tonight in honor of this historic occasion, and during your stay you will allow us to grant you hospitality in our palace, by order of His Majesty Kublai Khan, Emperor of Neighpon and all the lands of the Kitsune people.” He waved his hand, and the translator repeated his words in Equish. He was a plumper kitsune with a fine red and yellow silk robe. He wore a rounded hat similar to the magistrate, though it seemed to be topped with the largest pearl they had ever seen, even in Equestria. Aside from his long braided hair, he possessed a short waxed mustache and a goatee. His fur was a steely grey color that almost seemed to reflect the sun. On the throne at his side, just behind him, sat a female orange kitsune with a heavily painted face and a fan.
After taking a breath, Hammer Strike replied. “All right.”
“Is there anything you require?” the emperor asked.
“Would there happen to be a smithy I could use at some point?”
“Master Gakushu, I believe, would have been honored to allow you the use of his forge.” The emperor nodded. “Unfortunately, matters of state demand my attention, so I will allow master Haku to show you where you will be staying, and we shall assign you a guide when a suitable one can be found.”
Haku nodded as he slowly rose to his feet and bowed to the Emperor Khan. “It would be far more than an honor, my emperor. Thank you for the opportunity.”
The emperor's face turned sad for a moment before he smiled and gestured with a small fan in his left arm.
Haku held out a hand and a staff emerged from the earth, solidifying into an old gnarled tree root that had been intricately carved with kanji and sacred charms. A gourd hung from its side, its liquid sloshing as he began to hobble towards the group. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Sensei?” He chuckled. “And what a pleasure it is to meet your fellow compatriots.” He turned to Grif, Pensword, and Lunar Fang. “I thank you for keeping Hammer Strike safe, with all of my heart.” He bowed.
Pensword nodded solemnly. Lunar Fang smirked as she bowed her head with respect. Grif tilted his head in acknowledgement. Clover, however, just stared at Haku wide-eyed as she took in the sheer amount of magical energy coming off of him.
Haku chuckled. “And there is the little mare I’ve heard so much about.” He reached out and patted her on the head. “Your sensei would be proud of you, especially for the role you are playing now in the course of events to come.”
“You knew Star Swirl?” Clover asked, taken aback.
“He decided to dabble in chi magic as a part of his portal studies. It accidentally led to our meditation hall in the temple, since it was built over a key ley line.” Haku chuckled. “Gave us quite a shock, but it served a good way to wake the initiates.”
“Maybe I could ask you some questions? I haven’t had a lot of research on eastern magic since I was a filly.”
Haku smiled kindly. “It is not so far off from your Equestrian philosophy. What you call harmony, we call balance. It would be a pleasure to teach you.”
Pensword tuned out the conversation between Clover and Haku. The Magic was something he really didn’t care for, and he had learned the less he knew, the better he could be at performing duties and tasks. Instead, he thought ahead to just what might be served at the feast and came to a startling revelation. He swifly turned to face Fox Feather. “Only one small cup of Sake, nothing more. It is a little more intense than the average brew.”
“How intense?” Fox Feather asked with a smirk.
“You would be confessing your undying love to a bush if you drank half of what you drank at the party,” he answered, unsure if this was true or not.
“And that’s not even our sacred sake,” Haku interjected.
“Oh, now I just have to try a cup of that,” Fox Feather replied.
“Are there any good tea houses in the area?” Grif asked. “I … heard one of the delegates murmuring about a green tea, and I’m interested to try it.”
“Ah yes, I know just the place. They make the best brews a fox could ask for, or any species for that matter. But first, we must address the issue of your rooms. Come, we have them all prepared.”
Haku led them down the hard, polished stone floor as great red wooden pillars with jade dragons circling them rose high above. The dragons stared down, as though actively scanning them. Great banners and scrolls portraying various paintings of mountains, plains, and streams added a sense of nature and tranquility to the unsettling quiet of the halls.
“Don’t mind the golems. They treat everybody like that,” Haku said passively as the dragons’ heads turned to follow the party in its passage. After a series of twists and turns, they finally arrived at a series of translucent screen doors. “These will be your quarters. You may pick whichever rooms you like, or if you prefer, arrangements can be made to give you a larger room for you all to sleep in together.”
“As long as we’re together, it’s fine,” Grif said, wrapping a wing around Avalon.
“Can I try some of that sake?” Fox Feather asked. “I can hold my ale, beer, and troop wine just fine. I want a challenge.”
“You do know that the water is safe, right?” Pensword whispered.
“Don’t care. I want to be one of the first Equestrian officers to drink sake.” Fox Feather brushed her wing over his, causing Pensword to blush.
“We can see about ordering you some later this evening. After all, you do have that feast to look forward to tonight.” He chuckled, then broke into a minor coughing fit. He quickly uncorked his gourd and took a few swigs before replacing the stopper and sighing.
“Are you all right, Haku?” Hammer Strike asked.
Haku smiled. “Fine. Fine,” he assured them.
Hammer Strike opened his mouth to say something before closing it and faintly shaking his head.
Haku smiled. “I still have time yet, Hammer Strike. Don’t worry so much about an old fox.”
“Haku, you know how I am…”
“And that’s why I’m telling you to relax and enjoy yourself. This should be a happy reunion. Let’s keep it that way.”
“... All right.”
Haku waved his hand and the doors all slid open. Each had been ornately decorated with hanging paper lanterns engraved with various kanji for peace, protection, and sleep. A single short, round table sat in the middle with a series of cushions in varying shades of purple, blue, and red. A series of sleeping mats had been provided in each room, along with an adjoining bathroom and what appeared to be a personal bath in the outdoors behind.
“If you happen to need anything, all that is required is for you to pull the cords near your beds or the doors. Servants will come as soon as they can to assist you.”
“Uh, a quick question, Haku, was it?” Grif spoke up.
“Yes?”
“Well, seeing as our countries have never really interacted, the bit and the beak probably don’t have much, if any, value here. I brought a few goods that I hope might be worth some trade here in order to get some spending money. But is it possible I could get an appraiser to come to the ship tomorrow? And possibly some sort of rundown how your currency system works?”
“You’ll have both ready by tomorrow morning,” Haku promised. “I’m certain the emperor will be pleased to know of your desire to trade. Just be careful not to try to live off of it. You are the emperor's guests, and he prefers not to have his hospitality spurned when he offers it.”
“I didn’t mean any offense. It just seems like it would be a little imposing to assume the emperor should concern himself with small expenses on personal items,” Grif said, trying his best to keep a polite tone.
“Of course. Just be careful. Our people have remained isolated for millennia, and our laws on exportation are very strict. I would recommend consulting a list of allowable souvenirs, if that is your desire.”
“Would it be acceptable for someone of my standing to commission a Katana or smaller weapon?” Pensword asked as he looked into one room and nodded his head in approval, showing he had claimed it.
“I don’t see why not. It might require a test of strength at arms, but our archives speak quite highly of you as both a tactician as well a warrior, so as long as you have a proper escort and find a smith willing to take the job, it is certainly possible.”
“I shall see about asking one of your mid level officers for my official guide, then. I feel they would know the best place to commission a blade.”
“I can certainly give a few recommendations later, if you would like,” Haku said with a chuckle. “Gakushu’s proteges and I still keep contact from time to time.” He bowed to the party. “With that, I’m afraid I have to leave you. I must help make preparations for the feast. You can expect your seamstresses within the hour for your fittings.”
“Fittings?” Rarity asked.
“For your ceremonial robes. It’s traditional,” Haku explained.
Rarity squealed in delight as Haku retreated down the hall, and the party got settled into their apartments.
An hour and a team of seamstresses later, the group stepped from their rooms into the hallway.
Grif was dressed in a black male kimono complete with a white hakama hanging across his back with a small hole for his tail. A black haori jacket had been draped over his chest with several red slash-like markings across it and a pair of geta sandals that Grif was shocked they found for his pawed hind legs. Vigilance and vengeance had been swapped out for a single lacquered black bokkun slung through his obi across his side. For the first time in collective memory, the only green Grif was wearing was the green tips of his crest.
“Who are you, and what have you done with our Grif?” Vital asked with a chuckle. His Kimono, surprisingly, was black with white stripes. Or was it white with black stripes? No time to count. A single yin-yang symbol had been sewn in over his heart, though instead of the usual circles, hearts had replaced them.
“Where…? When did Me-Me get so good?” Pensword whispered in Draconic from his place behind the screen. As he emerged from the room, his midnight blue kimono shone in the afternoon light. The sleeves were trimmed with a moon-grey cloth. Three symbols had been included descending over his heart. The first was the original emblem for Mountainside Falls before its destruction. The second was a kanji for the moon in honor of Princess Luna and his loyalty to her. The last was his cutie mark. A golden western dragon had been flawlessly sewn on the kimono’s back with great care, a homage to his exchange with Haymin. Due to his equine hindquarters, no pants had been included. Much like Grif, a simple polished wooden bokkun had been strapped at his side to complete the ensemble.
Lunar Fang’s kimono seemed to be the height of her embarrassment as she stepped out. To everyone else, however, the effect was quite stunning. The fabric was a thin silk the color of silvery moonlight with blue blossoms painted onto it. Her obi formed a large bow behind her in golden yellow, and her mane had been styled with a black comb to hold it up. As a warrior, she was also entitled to bear a bokkun, and did so.
Pensword stared and grinned as he nuzzled her, whispering something into her ear that caused her to blush.
Fox Feather entered next, wearing a kimono that accented her fox colorations and seemed to tease the fact that her kimono robe draped over her rear to create the illusion of at least two horse tails other than her normal tail. The color of the silk was dyed a dusky red with gold and silver lines and swirls that gave the impression of fire. A red lacquered polished wooden Bokkun hung at her side.
Avalon’s kimono was a tsukesage. Much like her usual colors, the base of the silk was a pure white with blue accents woven to form patches of water and sky. A red sash had been tied around her stomach, its length engraved with kanji for life and health, and the bow behind her was interwoven with smaller golden kanji representing the protection of the spirits. Like the other winged creatures of the room, her Kimono had been altered to take her wings into account, and a polished blue jade necklace had been placed around her neck next to the chain that held her focus. “Well, this certainly is a first,” she said as she looked herself over.
“A lot of firsts today,” Clover spoke as she stepped from her room. She wore a simple sapphire-blue robe with kanji representing different elements and magical formulae on it. A large yin-yang symbol had been sewn on the back of her kimono; however, instead of black and white, the symbol had been separated into a lavender half with an orange spot for yin and a light blue symbol with a purple dot with a green stripe through it’s center for yang. She had refused any ornaments or special adornments, and carried her staff beside her still.
Hammer Strike felt odd wearing something so drastically different from his usual attire. He wore a simple blue and gold kimono. His personal crest had been sewn onto the back, and a simple black sash held it closed.
“Darling, you look positively ravishing,” Rarity complimented as she emerged from behind the dressing screen that had been provided for their room. Her Kimono followed after a floral pattern with little gems in the center of the flowers. In homage to the traditions of Neighpon, her mane had been tied up into a bun and held in place by two decorative jade sticks. The sleeves were long and roomy, but glided smoothly across the floor with a dirt and friction resistance spell added to the mix. A pair of jade earrings had been attached to her ears for the occasion as well, and an Eastern style umbrella hovered behind her, turning absently for effect.
“You look lovely as well,” he replied as he turned to face her.
“Flatterer,” she teased as she kissed him.
“I wonder what’s been planned for our time here.”
“I would assume something elaborate and incredibly formal with a lot of rituals, but none of the fawning nobles. It should prove rather relaxing, I would think.”
“It does sound better without the other nobility…”
“And they’re so relaxed here. They don’t go crazy over all the good you’ve done,” she noted. “But I think we should go join the others now, don’t you? We don’t want to keep the emperor waiting.”
“Yeah, I guess we shouldn’t delay anymore.” He chuckled as he slid opened the door for her.
“Ladies and gentlecolts, introducing Lord Hammer Strike,” Rarity said with a playful giggle.
“Ha-ha.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes.
“Shouldn’t that be Lord and Lady Hammer Strike?” Grif laughed.
“Grif! Not until after we say ‘I do.’” Rarity blushed heavily.
“If I may intrude, noble guests, I have been sent to guide you to the banquet to be held in your honor,” a smooth voice said. A blue kitsune with black highlights bowed in his formal servant robes. “I am called Jackie. If you have a need for anything at all, just ask, and I will do my utmost to deliver it to you. And should you have any question about some of the artwork and artifacts, feel free to ask me. Archaeology is my specialty.”
“Thanks,” Grif said. “You all speak Equish surprisingly well.”
“We have surprisingly good teachers. My uncle is actually a specialist on languages both ancient and modern,” he said with a proud smile. He then uttered something in ancient Gryphic, much to the shock of Avalon. “As I said, we have good teachers.”
They were led into a large banquet room decorated bright red and gold with the gold effigy of a large serpentine dragon on the wall in the back of the room. Tables were set low against the floor with large cushions placed around them. Black ceramic plates had been laid out around the tables with a set of crossed red chopsticks across them. A second square dish was set to the left side of every plate, and a shallow small bowl was at the right.
“So … new question comes to mind. I have fingers. How do you guys intend to use chopsticks?” Grif spoke up.
Pensword gave him a confused look. “I use my hooves, of course. I can use my hooves for chopsticks the same way I use my wings for war.”
“Worst case scenario, I’ll try levitating them, but I want to try using my hooves first, too,” Vital said.
Hammer Strike simply shrugged. “I’ll figure something out.”
Jackie chuckled nervously. “The emperor understands if you would prefer to use other means to eat your food. It won’t be a problem, I assure you.”
“So are you supposed to seat us, or do we just sit anywhere?” Grif asked.
“You have been given the table closest to the Emperor’s as his most honored guests. Please, this way,” Jackie said as he motioned down the aisles between the tables.
“Forewarning, don’t use the green goopy stuff,” Grif whispered to Avalon as they were seated.
“And you had to tell me? You do realize practically anything with that green coloration has been evil in this world, right?” she whispered back.
“You would be surprised how many people were lured in by its less threatening look, only to spend the next hour praying for death.”
“Poisonous?”
“If only mother nature had such a sense of mercy,” Grif said, shaking his head.
“I personally like the stuff. In small amounts,” Pensword added.
Vital Spark grinned, his new canines primed for what he knew was about to come.
“Grif, care to face me in an eating contest?”
“You’re sure you want to do this? I’m twice your size and burn close to four times the calories a day,” Grif pointed out. “So when you lose, you can’t be making excuses.”
“You kidding me? When else can I get the opportunity for an all-you-can eat authentic oriental buffet without having to pay for it? Worst case scenario, I’ll try to pull a Pinkie Pie. I’m taking this meal for all it’s worth,” he whispered with a grin.
“Who said this was an all you can eat?” Pensword whispered back, using Dragonic.
“And don’t count on it being all sushi and ramen,” Grif noted. “The color scheme of this hall is more like the ming dynasty. That dragon back there, I’m not an expert mind you, but the design seems like the Korean version of it. I think these Kitsune are a much larger culture than you’re counting on.”
“And you think I’m scared to try new dishes?” He laughed. “Bring it on.”
“Just making a note. Forewarned is forearmed, my friend.”
Further conversation was stalled as music began to play and the emperor entered the room, taking his place at the head table while ministers, generals, magistrates, and other people necessary for the country's well being filed in and took their places. The emperor spoke fluidly in Neighponese, and another older-looking robed kitsune took over. All the Kitsune bowed their heads low as he chanted something fast and fluently while facing a large golden statue of a Kitsune lady. He placed some food in a bowl before her, and then the first course was brought out.
As Grif had predicted, aside from large trays of different types of sushi, there were several different types of cooked pork and chicken. A cornucopia of stirfries and dumplings passed through the aisles to be scooped into bowls. Servants went around offering bowls of several varieties of soups and stews both savory and sweet. A bowl of rice seemed to magically appear next to every place setting as well as bottles of sake and kettles of tea.
Grif gave the largest grin he could, breaking his usual rule against showing teeth as he revealed every last one of them in all their sharpness. He stood over a large bowl of deluxe ramen and looked to Vital with a cocky smirk as he held up his chopsticks.
Vital returned the grin as he raised his own chopsticks in front of him with his telekinetic aura. “Itadakimasu!”
Pensword said nothing, and silently went to work on his meal, sampling a little of everything to find his favorites, and enjoying the Green Tea at his place setting. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather both casually sampled from his plate, and he returned the favor, allowing all three to enjoy each other’s company while magnifying the overall experience of the occasion.
Hammer Strike grinned as he took a sample of every meat he could manage. Haku chuckled at the other Kitsune’s gaping mouths. Rarity appeared to have fallen in love with the seaweed salad, and had made use of her chopsticks to wind the strands into a makeshift ball before raising it to her mouth and swallowing. She then proceeded to daintily wipe her mouth with a napkin before asking for more.
Avalon couldn’t help but chuckle at her husband’s antics as he and Vital continued their battle for feasting supremacy. Clover shook her head despairingly at the immature display, even as she chewed on an assortment of egg and spring rolls filled with shrimp, chicken, and pork.
A while into the meal the emperor stood up and motioned for silence. Turning to their table, he bowed.
“Haku has informed me that you have requested information about trade, and pointed out a current issue with monetary systems,” his translator spoke. This seemed to be pre-rehearsed. “For the time being, I have prepared these.” On some pre-arranged signal, several Kitsune surrounded the table and pulled out black lacquered wooden boxes, which they opened to reveal small golden tablets, each bearing some writing and the symbol of a large lion-like animal. “When you are in the market, show these tablets to any merchant you wish to do business with, and he will contact me to receive payment.”
“From all of us, thank you for this gift,” Hammer Strike replied as the boxes were placed next to their seats.
Pensword looked at the plates. He looked to his two wives. “You think we can get some of these recipes?”
“We’ll have to check later,” Lunar Fang whispered.
The emperor sat down, and the feast continued into the night. No one left until the emperor himself finally bade them a good night and left the room. Grif swiped a bowl of dumplings as the group were led to their rooms, chewing on them happily. When they got to their quarters, they disrobed the formal garments, and for most except Hammer Strike, found the gentle embrace of sleep.
Two nights later, Pensword and Lunar Fang were enjoying the evening in the gardens. A few Kitsune guards stood around the perimeter to prevent unauthorized entrance to certain doors while three servants stayed nearby to watch the Ponies directly. Pensword smiled, but it was a tiny bit forced. Something felt off. Chills were running down his spine, and he struggled to control it. It only grew more difficult as sundown approached and the stars began to emerge. When all signs of daylight had faded, he let loose a terrible cry and collapsed. His body couldn’t hold back anymore.
Lunar Fang rushed to his side.
“What's wrong?” she asked. Their guards soon followed, but Pensword was beyond answering. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and he continued to spout stuttering words.
“Back away!” Clovers shouted as she barreled into garden. Her staff blazed with light as she swung it. A transparent film of magic seemed to cover Pensword’s body. Unseen by all, his connection to the spirit world had been temporarily blocked.
Pensword bolted upright, his nostrils flaring. “We have to help them. A unit. A unit needs rest,” he cried out in Draconic. He turned his eyes, which had grown so dilated that no whites showed. “Lunar Fang, get our gear. We must help … their ….” he wobbled. “We–” He sat down hard. “We have to help them.”
“Pensword?” Grif and Hammer Strike entered the garden moments later, hastily clipping on their gear. “We heard a shout. What’s wrong?”
“Warriors, they must rest. We have…. They need their rest.” Pensword grunted as he pushed himself back up, looking for a moment like a Ponyta on the verge of fainting, just without the fire. “We have to help them. They yearn for their families.”
“Is this something to do with the hand bell?” Grif asked.
“I ... I….” Pensword muttered. “What is the hand bell?”
“You can’t hear that? The hand bell ringing every few moments?”
“Yes, I …. Yes I hear it.”
“Guessing you’re unarmed?” Grif asked.
“When are we ever unarmed?” Pensword gasped out, giving a weak lopsided grin.
“Well then, let's go see what's happening,” Grif said, taking to the air.
Pensword nodded and with Lunar Fang on one side, and Fox Feather arriving a moment later, they walked out, each holding the commander up by a wing. He paused as Clover drew closer, and waited until they’d reached a place where he knew they wouldn’t be overheard.
“What did you do?” The words seemed calm, but the tension could fill an ocean.
“I stunned your connection to the veil,” she said
“You what?” Pensword hissed. He trembled and snorted, barely suppressing the rage. “Do you have any idea how that can look to those back home? Stripping me of that gift?”
“Your gift was a hair’s breadth away from killing you,” Clover seethed back. “You have a daughter, you imbecile!”
“My gift has never tried to kill me. Why would it do so here?” Pensword snapped.
“Because this isn’t the place where Hammer Strike is chum chums with Death! Different creatures rule here. Your gift opens you to the malevolent spirits as much as the benevolent ones!”
Pensword stared, stunned at the sudden scolding. In all his time, he had never considered the possibility of an evil spirit seeking to claim or influence him in some way. A cold chill ran over him. If such truly was the case, then some of those malevolent spirits quite nearly succeeded.
“Lunar Fang, get me my dream web.” Pensword’s voice was soft and contrite. “We cannot interfere directly, but I still feel uneasy.” He frowned. “We must help however we can.”
“You don’t need to.” Clover shook her head. “Everything is being handled. Come with me,” she said, leading them away.
In time, they found themselves standing back at the mighty palace gates. Grif sat perched atop the arch above the golden dragon’s head. A sigil flared from the orb in the dragon’s mouth for purity to ward against evil. Clover motioned for the couple to follow her up the stairs and onto the parapet, so they could look out on the sleeping city next to Hammer Strike.
A cold, wet mist flowed over the grounds and through the streets like a dog searching for a scent. It swirled in eddies until the whole city was overrun. Then the lights came. Little paper lanterns cast an eerie white light, paler than even the moon. The twin kanji of death and rest shone on each, projecting onto the mist and causing little willowisps to bob and jump, revealing the shadows of their true forms surrounding their lights as playful giggles danced through the air.
“Keep back,” Grif warned. “Don’t go anywhere near them.”
“What are they? They look like ... but don’t Kitsune control willowisps?” Pensword asked.
“Depending on your lore, yes,” Grif said. “They’re forming a barrier, keeping them contained.”
And then they saw it. Slowly and steadily, a curtain of darkness drew itself over the city, covering the stars, severing the moon’s rays. They heard it clearly, the sound of skittering legs, of clacking teeth and claws and fangs. Unnamable and unspeakable creatures hovered in that darkness, and their hunger was so strong it was near palpable. Occasionally a tongue, a wing, a horn would emerge, only to return to the shadows once more. They were probing, searching. But for what?
One of these shadows jumped into the road to reveal what appeared to be a great feral dog, a cross between a Kitsune, a coyote, and a wolf, only twice the size. It sniffed eagerly, growling and snarling as it sought the scent of some unknown prey.
“Yu Mo Gwai Gui Fai Di Zao,” a voice cut into the darkness as a grey six-tailed kitsune with worn yellow patches of fur appeared near the gate. He held what seemed to be a petrified newt in his left hand, and continued to chant in a slow easy pace before the beast, not blinking his sunken eyes, not looking away, just chanting.
As he did so, the symbol on the orb flared, and the golden dragon’s eyes glowed a bright red. Even as the Kitsune continued his chant, a green aura surrounded him and the newt before spiraling above him and into the symbol itself. In a bright flash of light, a white ghostly form had appeared superimposed over the carving of the dragon. Its scales were pearlescent, its waving fronds majestic. Its long, serpentine tail and powerful claws yearned to be free, and its orb glowed with white and green light. The figure broke from the carving and advanced on the now-whimpering creature. It tried to retreat to the shelter the great shadow provided to it and its own, only to find its way barred by brilliant green flames. Still the chanting continued, still the dragon advanced.
The eternal guardian from the heavens looked with disdain upon the creature and opened its mouth. The orb hovered next to it, even as it roared at the comparatively small creature, consuming it in white light. The shadows recoiled. When the light died away, there was no sign of the creature. Nodding in satisfaction, the dragon reclaimed its magic orb and flew back to the gates before rising and curving its long body around the boundaries of the palace. It glared into the shadows, as if daring any other creature to be foolish enough to try to enter its domain. With the dragon awakened, the old Kitsune ceased his chanting and returned to the shadow of the gate, newt at the ready should his magic be required again.
The sound of handbells began to grow louder. From deep within the palace’s shrine, something else began to sound over the din. At first it seemed to be a faint thumping sound, but as it grew louder, they could hear the sound of many thumps in unison, as if many pairs of feet where hopping towards them in time to the bells.
A tall male Kitsune walked out of the shrine wearing a black robe with white lining. In his right hand he held a wooden sword speckled with blood and intricately carved with mystic symbols. In his left he held a simple silver handbell, which he rang regularly after every few steps. Behind him, slowly at first, Kitsune hopped out of the building in rows of five. All of them wore identical black robes with red lining and hats. A slip of aged yellow paper with black writing on it hung from their hats. With every ring of the bell the Kitsune hopped robotically forward. Long billowing sleeves hid their hands from sight.
“I am guessing this is something important?” Pensword whispered. Lunar Fang watched silently, enthralled by the event.
“There are your spirits who need to get home.” Grif gestured with a talon to the hopping Kitsune. “And they will get there eventually.”
“Then how can we help them get home?” Pensword asked
“Best to sit this one out,” Clover told him. “This is risky as it is, and the taoist is paid for his risk.”
The priest, for that is what he was, continued at a stalwart and solemn pace as he approached the palace gates. His bell continued to toll, and the corpses continued to move. He approached the gate and bowed to the great guardian. The celestial dragon turned its head and nodded in turn. Its eyes flashed, and the gates slowly creaked open. The wailing and scrabbling increased.
The priest continued onwards as he waved the wooden sword in intricate patterns. As the corpses approached the gate, he stowed his sword in his corded belt and produced a handful of sticky rice from his robes, scattering it along the edges of the path as they left the palace grounds and the dragon’s protection.
More of the hounds approached, snapping hungrily, then yipping in pain as they retreated from the rice with burnt noses and paws. The rice continued to spread until all the corpses had hopped out of the compound. That was when the first major attack came.
Out from the shadows, great bony clawed hands struck against the walkway. Bolts of dark lightning lashed in recoil against a flaring barrier of light. The flames of the wisps had lined the path, their giggles no longer so childish, their movements no longer playful. Their shadowy forms tensed. Their eyes glared as they pushed back.
And still the priest pressed on.
An angry roar filled the air with the skittering of legs as multiple hands struck again and again, attached to long, bony arms. Glowing green eyes pulsed in the shadows as blow after blow was struck. The wisps were pushed back, their flames straining as the path grew more narrow. The Jiangshi filed accordingly as the taoist priest continued along his way.
A few of the flames flickered and guttered out as cracks began to lace over the walls of light.
Pensword was torn as a titanic struggle waged within his consciousness. Matthew wanted to cower and pull back at the sight of what one could tell was clearly a spider demon. Pensword, however, wanted to charge forward and attack, and had prepared himself to do so.
Grif wrapped his wing around pensword and pulled him back. “You’ll do more harm than good.”
More legs emerged as five Tsuchigumo heads gnashed their teeth, striking against the flames and the barrier protecting the priest as he passed. A foul wind blew through the lane, blowing the lanterns out and dousing the path in darkness as the barrier shattered. A loud cry sounded as a chorus of voices dissipated and the demons prepared to swarm, scurrying closer and closer to their goal, their feast.
Matthew took full control and turned Pensword’s head to hide deep under the folds of Grif’s wing, shivering and whimpering. “Worse than First Contact. So much worse,” he spoke in Dragonic.
“It’s not over yet,” Grif promised him.
A high piping flute sounded over the triumph of the demonic horde, and with it came a sudden stillness in the air. Then eight pillars of light descended to the earth to surround the party. Eight handbells rang simultaneously, their tree-like design a firm source of light to symbolize their connection to the divine. The pillars shattered, scattering bullets of light into the shadows and causing shrieks of pain and outrage to dissipate as holes were punched briefly into the curtain that had drawn itself over the city. The mists had turned a malevolent green mixed with tinges of black that billowed and heaved around the corpses and the priest. A ninth figure materialized above the dancers in an orb of light that slowly peeled back like a lotus to reveal a beautiful Kitsune maiden dancing as she played her flute.
The mists roiled and began to dissipate, revealing the earth as the nine shrine maidens worked in perfect synchronization. Each step, each ring, each trill of the flute sent a pulse of light that rippled and joined, strengthening as they passed through one another before striking against the Tsuchigumo and the curtain of darkness they had brought with them.
The nine continued to dance together to a series of steps as old as time, and the light began to build, streaming from the flute player to the other maidens and back again as together, they called on a greater power. The Tsuchigumo reared angrily as they sought to destroy this opposition before it had the chance to stop them. As one, the maidens on the ground raised their bells. The wave pulsed once more, and yet again the demons were pushed back as the shrine maidens spun in their ceremonial robes, colored ribbons trailing from their bells as they continued their dance, then jumped into the air to stand there as the bells rang again.
Continuing their ritual, the maidens waved their bells like wands as the streams of light rose and spiraled around them and continued to gather. The outline of a kimono and the hint of a bodice shone around them as a figure rose and formed, its head shaped from a union of all the lights. The great dragon rose from its place to circle the figure before landing on its shoulders and nuzzling the figure’s cheek. The entity opened its mouth, and a familiar laughter filled the air that caused Hammer Strike’s mane to prickle.
“Ah, the Miko Kagura. It’s this kind of thing that reminds us that Unicorns still only scratch the surface of magic,” Clover noted almost wistfully.
Two star-filled eyes opened to gaze down upon the proceedings as the maidens were enveloped by the curtain of light. The entity looked upon the Tsuchigumo and took in the state of the city. Even as the music and bells continued to play, it raised an arm to reveal a great hand. Multitudes of galaxies swirled within as it opened and gently stroked the dragon’s head. The dragon rumbled and purred in response before dropping its orb into the entity’s palm. The woman, for that was the shape it had taken, and not a Kitsune, gently curled Her fingers around the pearl. Streams of light filtered between the fingers before the fingers unfurled to reveal an orb of pure light. It broadened and expanded until She held not an orb, but a fan made of pure light. She raised it to her lips with a coy smile. Then, in one fell swoop, She swept her arm across the expanse, sending a torrent of light through the streets in one swift blow and rending the curtain of darkness.
Three of the five Tsuchigumo had been cleansed, vaporized by the light, along with their forces, and with their destruction, the darkness was far less potent. She turned on the remainder of the force. The creatures began to crawl backwards, seeking shelter in any shadows they could find to crawl away. She would not have it. The moon’s rays shone brightly on the ground as She raised Her arm like an empress. With one authoritative wave, the creatures cried in agony as the light rent them apart, consuming them, and ultimately destroying their forces. Laughing, She kissed the dragon on its snout, and it opened its mouth to reveal a tiny orb of light. It closed its mouth again and nuzzled Her one more time before flying back to the palace to enter the doors once again as the gold glowed brightly before returning to its normal self. With one last laugh, She disappeared in a shower of golden sparks that scattered across the capital, blessing the land with a sense of abiding peace as all returned to normal. The nine maidens slowly descended before collapsing to the ground and panting for breath.
The priest nodded his approval and continued on his way, pealing the bell as he and the corpses that were his charges made their way down the winding streets and out of sight. That entity, whatever She was, had assured there would be peace this night. There would be no need to fear anymore.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” a familiar voice chuckled as he looked down on the maidens. Somehow Haku had managed to arrive while their attention was diverted, without being seen.
“I hope you’re not talking about those things,” Grif growled.
“I was referring to the shrine maidens,” he said mildly. “My granddaughter is among them.” He smiled as he pointed at the flute player. “She has a great deal of magic, much like me, but she also has the warrior spirit from Kurama and his family.” He chuckled. “We always did butt heads growing up. She’s just like him.”
“Just as stubborn?” Hammer Strike asked jokingly.
“Would you believe even more so? She wouldn’t even let me see her these last few weeks.” He shook his head sadly. “She wants to be a warrior, and I, of all people shouldn’t try to stop her from that path, but with her level of spiritual capability, she needs to learn to utilize it to protect herself. Otherwise, she would be an easy target for any yokai or demon.” He sighed. “It’s been an area of sore debate, both between me and Kurama, and between me and her.” He shook his head. “I just wish Nanami would understand. She only has a few years left of training, and then she’ll be able to change classes.”
“May I speak to her then?” Pensword whispered. Even with the spell Clover had cast, he could feel the touch of that divine entity, and there was no other word to describe it but divine. The power still made his feathers and fur stand on end. “I think I may be able to help, as one warrior to another.”
“So then, you wish her death on the battlefield?” Grif asked. “She is in the most important years for developing the martial skill to survive.”
“You of all people should know that our lifespans outstretch even that of your species, Grif Grafson. Our people mature at an incredibly slow rate. She will have time for both, but as it always is with youth, she does not see the wisdom behind my words.”
“And I wish I had more warriors that could.” Pensword closed his eyes. “The battlefield brings nightmares and demons. If she is to become a warrior maiden, then she will learn both, and master both. It could even lead to the creation of a new school of study within your society, but to do that, to marry the two, she must understand both,” he said with a smile. “If you do not mind my boldness in speaking.”
“You both are fools, if you believe that,” Grif said as he spread his wings. “Live as long as you want. The brain still has its limits, and you are forcing her to waste immeasurable talent for your choices.” Without a word he lept into the air and flew away.
Pensword sighed. “Great. I am going to hear about this later. Still, it will be her choice in the end. If she is down there, then she is greatly honored, or that is how I see it from my cultural standpoint.”
“She is, but she is not happy.” He sighed. “If there were a way for her to do both at once, then there would be no need for all of this, but as it stands, the capital is under constant attack, and I need her help to teach the warding spells to the next generation.”
“Talk to her tonight as a father. See what happens,” Pensword suggested. He stood up stiffly. “The day will come too soon when I will have to speak to my own daughter. Far sooner than I want.”
“Touched by Time, is she?”
“No, but that is what I have heard all stallions and fathers say over the years. And with how I live, and have lived, I know it will come sooner or later, but it will never be on my timetable.”
Haku nodded knowingly. “Perhaps you could shed some light on the problem, Hammer Strike,” the old Kitsune said. “I’ve been meaning to spend some time with you anyways. We have much to discuss.”
“The time will come one day, but until then, we’ll just have to enjoy the present,” Hammer Strike replied. “Plenty of years to catch up on. But then again, I don’t have doubts someone’s been keeping tabs on me,” he finished with a chuckle.
Haku laughed. “And you thought that was going to change?”
“Not at all. To be honest, I expect you kept an even closer eye on me.”
Haku winked mischievously. “Would I do that?”
“Yes. Without a second thought to it.”
“Aiyah! Are you going to be standing there yapping all night, or is someone going to let Uncle in? Cold weather is not good for Uncle’s bones, and Uncle is very tired. You want Uncle to die from hypothermia? No? Then you open the gate!”
“We should probably help him out, eh?”
Haku laughed. “Come along. My star pupil gets grouchy when he doesn’t have his coffee.”
“One more thing! Did Uncle hear somebody say coffee?”
“Told you.”