Ch10-2: Shadowed Homelands

Then he withdrew a short cylinder of plain black metal.

“You were going soft on the prisoner,” Kudako critiqued with a low voice.

The Dragon did not look back as he stepped over a blackened lump on the ground. It seemed to be a part of the decadent, half-crushed building not far away. Whether it had originally been wood or stone was impossible to tell.

“He was not much more than a boy, ‘Dako,” Zento replied, stiffly.

“That boy would have slit your throat if you had so much as turned your back to him.”

“And does that mean that we should stoop down to their level and treat them the same?”

“Zento, this isn’t about stooping,” the Dragon pushed through the scraggily brush. The ground was nothing more than a large black smear as far as could be seen and the scent of dead-silence hung on the air. “This is about surviving. They will have no mercy for you. Don’t you forget that.”

Still… he was hardly much older than Tsu…

The winged man peered at his companion’s back in thought. The Dragon had returned to his normal man-like form after they had released the prisoner in the forest. However, the message that Kudako had dictated there, the statement of vengeance, had left the two in silence as they made their way down into the valley.

Another side of ‘Dako I’ve never seen yet. There’s always something more to him than he lets show.

When word came from Islay that AsaHi and SoYa were safe in Wyndor, Kudako had taken the Dragon aside for a long conversation. After parting, he struck out due south, face a mask of stern determination.

Something’s going on… and he’s not telling me what.

Kudako was now leaning over, peering into a gutted, black hollow that looked to once have been some sort of well. Finally, he turned back over his shoulder, “The boy will die, no matter.”

“Why?” Zento heard the word issue from his mouth sharply. His feet planted firmly into the ground as if he expected some sort of confrontation.

“That boy was scared for a reason. And it wasn’t just of us,” the Dragon was running his fingers through the dark, grainy soil. Then he squinted out across the blackened ground. “Most likely he was sent with that troop as the final part of his Testing. Because he failed to kill his prey, he has shamed his Clan and is now worthless.”

“Man… what kind of test is that?”

“The kind every boy takes to become a warrior in the Spiral.”

“They always gotta kill someone?” Zento snorted, half joking.

Kudako, however, wasn’t joking, “Yes.”

“Woah… wait a second… so murder is the initiation process of the warrior society here?”

“They don’t consider it murder,” Kudako said plainly. “Even if it really is.”

“How can they do that to their kids?”

“Because these people have no soul.”

Zento fell silent for a moment, watching as Kudako strode across the charred ground. There was little doubt what had happened upon this site, a fire of some sort. And though it seemed to have passed over long ago, nothing had come to reclaim the blackened land. Not even a stray blade of grass.

“What happens if you fail this test?”

“Then you are deemed worthless,” the Dragon answered. “And you are slain upon returning to the Spiral to make up for the blood you could not shed.”

Zento choked, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“I am not.”

“They can’t possibly justify killing their own people for something like this?! How in Light’s name do they live this way?” the winged man protested. He could feel the heat in his cheeks rise.

“They know nothing different,” Kudako answered slowly. He knelt, eyes measuring the ground. “They no know love for their own kind. Everything that is done, every individual that exists in this society is all for one thing. The survival of those of the Spiral.”

Fed up with the half-baked answers, Zento strode around to stand in front of the Dragon, demanding, “I don’t care who you are or where you come from… you don’t just go killing your own people and not feel something about it. You’re telling me this doesn’t bother them? I find that impossible to believe.”

“That is because you know nothing about the people of the Spiral.” The Dragon peered up from where he crouched, “As I said, they have no soul.”

Arms crossed, the winged man scowled. “And that means?”

Kudako let out a deep breath, “Too much to explain.”

“Try me.”

“Maybe later.”

“No.” Zento’s eyes narrowed. “Not later. Right now.”

The Dragon scowled darkly, rising to his feet. But he held his silence.

“Listen, I know this has something to do with me. A lot to do with me,” he stabbed a finger forward. “Even if you’re not telling me a thing, I know that I’m a piece to some puzzle that’s being played. And I don’t appreciate being led around by the nose without having a clue as to what I’m doing… where I’m going… and most importantly what I’m fighting for.”

Kudako’s golden eyes narrowed.

“‘Dako, is this your game of vengeance? Cuz that’s not what I came for,” Zento began to ground his teeth. “I’m here to find a cure for my son… not to get involved in some ancient battle that is still running around in your fin-headed brain. I don’t appreciate the goals being changed in mid-stride.”

“You don’t know–”

Irritation rose as he snapped back, “Exactly! I don’t know! And you don’t seem to respect me enough to inform me.”

The Dragon pulled in a slow breath, measuring the words with a grim face. When Kudako spoke again, his voice was troubled, “Zento… I’m sorry.”

It was so unexpected that Zento’s anger vanished, replaced with a mounting worry. It wasn’t often that Kudako apologized.

Something must be really wrong.

“Hey… come on… tell me what’s going on. I know you’ve been really on the edge ever since we got here,” Zento urged, knowing it was probably futile. Kudako never spoke unless he wanted to.

“You’re right. I have been. That is why I didn’t want to come back into these lands,” he frowned slowly. “That is why I hope this will be the final time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Lord Zemi aims to destroy the Spiral,” Kudako said simply before striding off across the burned glade.

“‘Dako! Where did this come from all the sudden? No one told me anything about this!” Zento followed, walking fast to keep up with his companion’s long strides.

Kudako just kept walking. “Calm yourself. It all fits together for a reason, Zento. You must trust Lord Zemi.”

“That’s all well and good,” he grumbled. “But that doesn’t give me any heads up on what’s going on. Come on, don’t tell me you would go into battle without knowing who you were fighting and why. Not even for Zemi.”

“For Lord Zemi I would,” the Dragon stated firmly.

“Well I wouldn’t. And I won’t,” Zento muttered, suddenly refusing to follow anymore.

Kudako stopped, a perplexed expression on his face. As if he couldn’t imagine anyone denying Zemi’s orders. “You don’t mean that.”

Realizing he found a bartering chip in the situation, Zento crossed his arms. “I do. I’m not moving one step from here until I know the full thing. Got it?”

Head bowed, ears pined back, a low grumble rose in his throat, “Fine. I’ll tell you. Just don’t stand there like a fool. I have something to find.”

Finally.

“The concept of the Spiral was created in the haze of insanity,” Kudako began, pushing against a fallen stone next to a half-melted structure. “The Chieftain who first led the forest Clans to unity was a tactical genius at warfare. But looking back on it, I’m convinced that he was absolutely mad.”

“Then why did anyone follow him?” Zento frowned. Seeing that the Dragon wanted to rock moved, he leaned down to lend a hand.

“The forest people were very primitive in those days. Survival against the wilderness and other rival Clans was all that mattered. They couldn’t recognize the madness. Or they simply didn’t care.” Pulling the stone away revealed a tilted, nearly rectangular entrance. The Dragon murmured to himself, “Ah… here we are.”

“So this guy comes along and wows them all, yeah?” Zento made sure to keep the conversation on track.

“His timing was perfect. It corresponded with the finding of the Spirit Lion,” Kudako explained, squinting into the gloom below. “After the Lion gave his warning about the coming of the Dragons, that’s when the Chieftain began to have his Visions. Speaking of which, how about some light?”

“Voices in the head… never a good sign,” Zento clicked his tongue. He lifted one hand, a small sphere of blue flame building within his palm, casting a pale light ahead of them. It seemed to be some sort of room.

“It was more than just voices,” the Dragon frowned, running his fingers along the side of the wall as if looking for something. When he found nothing he nodded and moved forward. “His visions became a prophecy which detailed the impending doom of the forest people. He talked about how ‘a man of the white-haired clan’ would descend upon us ‘with the wings of the north wind.’ And how this man would ‘cleave apart our nation’ and ‘rip from us the heart’, leaving our people ‘scattered in fear for our enemies to destroy’.”

“I see where this is going…” the winged man sighed, following closely. The room had looked small from the outside, but now it had opened into a passage that led deeper down underground. The blue flame was almost not enough to keep the gloom illuminated. “Prophecy of doom. White haired people from the north. Add that to the Dragon threat. And you’ve got the Hunt that nearly destroyed my ancestors.”

“Yes, and the reason for the creation of Annihilators.”

“I getcha. But why did he choose my people?”

“That’s something I really don’t know, Zento,” Kudako told him with a slow shake of his head. “Simply madness could have pieced together some deranged dream perhaps? If only that was where the story ended.”

“You got more for me?” Zento frowned, scratching his nose. There was a lot of soot down there.

“You wanted to know,” the Dragon pressed his hands against what looked to have once been a wooden door.

“Yeah, I did. Go ahead.”

Kudako pushed his shoulder against it with a grunt. The door was not budging. “The Spiral was terribly dismayed when the people from the north escaped with Lord Zemi’s help and were safe in the Inner Realms. The Chieftain decided that the only way the Spiral was to survive against the terrible prophecy was if they created a society of perfect warriors.”

“Man, this guy had some issues… He really thought everyone was out to get him?” Zento stepped forward, raising his hands. The flame’s light grew stronger as he did. “Here, let me give it a shot.”

“Be careful. This place isn’t too sturdy,” Kudako warned, stepping back as the flame leapt from the winged man’s hands, bursting against the old wood. “Issues or not… the people believed him. That’s when things began to get out of hand. Because the Chieftain’s idea of the perfect warrior was one that could kill on command, no matter the situation.”

“Yeah, well, people don’t work that way. That’s what I was trying to say earlier,” Zento argued softly. The door was giving way, but it had taken more effort than he had thought it would. “You can’t deny feelings of right and wrong. It’s just the nature of people.”

“Tell me what happens when that nature is removed,” the Dragon’s eyes reflected strangely in the light of the blue flame.

“What do you mean?” The wood gave a final crack and buckled inward, leaving a space just large enough for them to pass through.

“Feelings of right and wrong,” Kudako murmured, waving his hand in front of his face to clear away the smoke. “That’s exactly what the Chieftain was thinking. And that’s why these people no longer have a soul.”

“‘Dako, you don’t just take away someone’s soul. It doesn’t work like that.” Zento stuck his hand in, lighting the next chamber. One small room. He could only wonder what it was Kudako was after down there.

“Maybe not literally. But they have come close enough,” the Dragon carefully stepped over the remains of the shattered doorway. Again, he ran his hand along side the wall. “The Chieftain’s alchemists developed some sort of Implant – beyond the name, I don’t even really know what it is. I do know that ultimately, it is used to take away a person’s emotions. And though it is not a mind controlling device, it seems to leave people susceptible to the commands of the Armsmaster of the Spiral.”

“Woah, there,” Zento paused, peering around. “Are you meaning to tell me that those people back there couldn’t feel a thing? That kid sure looked scared enough to me.”

“The boy, yes. He could feel. He would have gotten his Implant upon successfully finishing the task,” Kudako’s eyes were studying the wall intently. Other than a few discarded lumps, there didn’t seem to be anything else in the room.

“If they want the kid to become a warrior, why not give it to him before then… I mean… if the Implant makes them a ‘perfect’ fighter?” Zento frowned.

Kudako finally knelt down, feeling along the base of the floor. “No. A boy must complete the task by natural means. Only when he overcomes his own fears does he prove himself worthy.”

“Sure makes a lot of sense to me.” Sarcasm ran rampant.

“I never said it made sense,” Kudako murmured, beginning to pry at a crack along the floor.

“So it’s the Implants that take people’s… um…”

“Souls.”

“Feelings.”

“Souls,” Kudako repeated, seeming engrossed in the floor. “And yes.”

“Why didn’t someone just take the Implant out then?” Zento frowned, holding the light closer to give better light.

“Because, for the most part, people of the Spiral believe that the lack of emotion leads to perfection. Besides, no one except the Armsmaster knows how to safely manipulate the Implants,” the Dragon gave a groan as he lifted, the sound of stone shifting under his fingers.

Zento froze with a sudden thought. “What… about you, ‘Dako…?”

“What about me?” he motioned for the light to come closer to the newly-opened hole in the floor.

“Did you… get one of these Implants?” he swallowed.

Is that why Kudako is always so…

The Dragon peered up. “I was an Annihilator. I was from a clan that was bred to kill. Unlike other boys, I was fitted with an Implant shortly after I was born.”

“You mean… you never… you never felt anything growing up?” Something about it left him almost numb inside. Then a welling of sorrow.

“Can I get some light, Zento?” the Dragon evaded answering.

“‘Dako..?” the winged man’s face was etched in concern. “Did you?”

Kudako took a deep breath in. “No, I did not. But I knew nothing different.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

“Do you feel things now?” Zento slowly brought the light forward.

The Dragon tilted his head. Ever so slightly, he gave a soft, thin-lipped smile. “You tell me.”

He watched as Kudako reached down and pulled a small metal box up from the narrow gap in the floor. Somehow, the Dragon knew what points to touch for the latches to open. Then he withdrew a short cylinder of plain black metal.

“What are you doing, ‘Dako?” Zento finally ventured to ask.

“I’m getting ready to meet with the Armsmaster of the Spiral,” Kudako rose to his feet slowly, looking at the strange treasure with a pleased expression. He gripped it between both hands, holding it at length in front of his body. “His name is UragiRu. He is the descendant of the Chieftain. And as I said, it is only those in the line of the Chieftain that know how to place the Implants.”

“So if you take him out…?”

“I will break that line of command,” Kudako nodded grimly. “There will be no one left to steal souls. And I will avenge the murder of my own clan.”

Zento squinted. “I was meaning to ask about that…”

The cylinder had begun to change, now that it was within Kudako’s hands. With a soft hissing sound, it lengthened on either side shifting like molten metal. As Zento watched, the innocent looking cylinder became a peculiar black-bladed battle staff.

“Woah… nice. You knew this was here?” the winged man blinked up.

“Yes. This weapon belonged to my ancestors,” Kudako’s eyes glinted with a strange light. “This was the place where I grew up. I lived here before UragiRu hunted down my clan and destroyed this place… my home outpost. And now, he will come to attempt to finish the deed. I am the last of the Re clan.”

“He knows you’re here?”

“It is not hard to figure that out. Why do you think I sent him a challenge? He will come. And we will finally end this,” a slow, vicious curve drew back his lips until the tips of his fangs showed.

Within that moment, there was no doubt that Kudako was a creature capable of feeling. His expression alone was enough to send chills over Zento’s body.