The Knife's Edge

Chapter Eight

A HYMN TO AN ANCIENT FOREST

Gray watched the hidden pockets of darkness.

The Lost Woods possessed a haunting beauty. As he followed the hermit, he admired the mammoth tree trunks and knotted branches that twisted up to form a canopy. He inhaled the musky smell of decaying wood.

Before him, Mura hummed a pleasant melody,

Oh’, Ancient trees and forest sullen, Those who do not, will not, see.

Yet, dull wits, will not hinder thee! As I bask beneath the great yen trees.

Oh, I have seen battles great! Fate that has seen the end of love,

But truth have I seen, so great. And hate, that blinds
Of all great minds,
Since sadness follows me.

Late has come my death,
But I have seen Kailith topple kings, And Omni battle giants,
When Seth screams defiant.

Ancient trees and forest sullen Those who do not, will not, see.

So who am I, to sing of sorrow? When there is always ‘morrow.

After a while, the canopy thinned and the trees turned to saplings. The terrain rose steadily. Gray saw teeth marks gnawed into the base of one of the aspens, a beaver’s missive, and suspected Mura must have been leading him to a body of water.

His mind strayed as they walked, thinking of his favorite stories, fantasizing about the legends and their heroic deeds.

“Mura, I’ve never heard that song before. How do you know it?”

“Are you curious about the song, or about Kail?” Gray missed a step. “I saw your face when I sang his name, you’d be hard pressed to hide a look like that.”

He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Kail and the song then. Both.”

Mura waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, the song is just something I picked up in my travels, either in the taverns of Lakewood, or the eastern trading provinces. As for Kail... seeing as you’ve read most of the tales, I suppose you want to know more than the average stories tell.”

“I do.”

Mura thumped his staff and gave a wink. “Lucky you, for I always find the stories of Kail the most interesting as well! So, how about the rumored legends of how he can never die? Or the tale of the fabled Vaults in the Hall of Wind, where they say he stashed the most precious of weapons. A weapon crafted by the gods.”

“What about the other Ronin? Together they could take him right?”

“Well, each of the Ronin had powers beyond any mortal. They were capable of vanquishing whole legions. Baro the Bull, slayer of giants, led the vanguard. Maris, the Trickster, had a tongue that was quick and sharp, and only his sword was quicker. Hiron, the Shadow, the voice of wisdom moved like water. Dared, the King-Slayer, never spoke, though always dealt the final blow. Aurelious, the Confessor, guided by truth, always took the final verdict. Aundevoriä, the Protector, viewed life tantamount to all else. And finally, Omni, the Deceiver, who was Kail’s right-hand and dealt death like the seven winds.” He paused for emphasis. “It was said the last thing his enemies saw was always and inevitably his frozen-blue eyes beneath his shrouded mask. All of them powerful, all of them legends. But Kail was the strongest of all.

“They say his attacks could never be seen, even by the Ronin, that his blade was so quick it had never been seen out of its sheath. That he moved faster than light itself!” Mura exclaimed. With each word Gray’s pulse beat faster, and with the last words Mura suddenly pivoted, his staff flashed, racing towards him.

Gray tensed, backpedaling, though raising his yen sword in the last moment and the two collided.

“Ha! Guess I’m not as fast as the fabled Kail, or perhaps you are,” Mura said with a wink.

Gray shook his head with an exasperated laugh. “You really are unpredictable sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” asked the hermit, sounding disappointed, and flashed another wink, before turning and heading back down the trail, whistling as if nothing had happened. Gray’s blood cooled, but the stories still swirled in his head until the hermit announced at last, “We’re here.”