The Bronze Blade
Page 21
She found clothes. She learned languages. She flew. She hid. Few noticed her, and those who did avoided the small woman who wore men’s clothes and wandered the trade routes at night.
She wandered over the plains again, tracking Suk and his sons. When she found them, she killed them in their tents, then she set fire to the last of those who held the girl’s memory.
She became no one. Nameless. Though she passed others of her kind on the trade routes, she did not speak to them. She only engaged them if she needed to defend herself.
She existed.
Then one night, she realized she felt something. Not in her body, in her mind. It was a feeling that had crept up on her, as much a result of her years on the earth as the length of road she had traveled.
She was tired.
She found another cave, higher in the mountains where the winter was long. Bright flags rippled from the trees, like colorful birds. She found a cave where humans had been. A small statue sat at the back in a niche, hidden from the light. She crawled next to it and lay down, stripping off her clothes to cushion her flesh from the rocks, rubbing snow over her body to clean it.
She lay down with the bronze blade under her head, and for many seasons, she did not rise.
Humans came to her, first frightened, then curious, then reverent. She was high in the mountains, but the tribe who tended the small statue came regularly. She didn’t move, but they fed her, reaching out to touch her gently. She caught them with her mind, so they held out their wrists, letting her drink as she needed. She never took too much.
A tree took root near the mouth of the cave.
She watched as the years passed. Her eyes rested on the tree. Each day, it grew a little more. Each night, she watched its progress. The humans came. They brought finely woven blankets and laid them over her, so she did not feel the bite of cold. They brought food for her to fill her stomach, though she did not eat. She existed on blood, and she survived.
Years passed, the tree grew tall as a man. The humans brought polished stones and purple shells. Bits of carved bone and pottery.
When the tree was as tall as the mouth of the cave, they brought brightly colored beads and rings made of a shining metal that did not tarnish. Her bronze blade grew dull beneath her head, but still, she did not move.
To them, she was a god. Never aging. Never moving. Many years passed, and they whispered to her. Dreams and prayers. They asked for wisdom. For blessing. For answers to questions she did not know. She listened and thought about their lives, these humans who tended her. She listened, and when she was tired, she closed her eyes.
One night, she woke and he was there, sitting at the edge of the cave, perusing the treasure the humans had brought. There were jewels and scrolls. Colorful blankets and food. Intricately painted pots. Pounded metal vessels and carved wooden screens. The humans had painted the walls of the cave with beautiful designs they hoped would please her.
She sat up and spoke for the first time since the tree took root.
“Are you here to kill me?”
Her sire looked up from the scroll he had been studying. “Why would I do that?”
“I killed your sons.”
Jun shrugged. “Then they deserved to be killed.”
“Did you make more?” she asked, her rusted voice dripping with scorn. “Shall I kill them, too?”
Jun looked at her, then smiled. Then his smile grew wide; he threw his head back and laughed. The cave echoed with it. His beautiful face was suffused with glee.
“You are my finest warrior,” he said when he stopped laughing. “Who would have thought?”
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “How did you find me?”
“It took many years. You are a rumor in these mountains. A legend. The Sleeping Goddess. They tell stories of you on the roads. I followed the legends when I decided to look for you.”
“Why did you decide to look for me? Do you want to fight me?”
“No, my daughter.” He shook his head. “To tell the truth, I do not know which one of us would win.”
Her eyes flashed with arrogance. “I would.”
“You might.” But the glint in his eyes told her that Jun did not believe her.
Despite her pride, she had to acknowledge he was probably the greater warrior. Power poured off him in waves. The air around him was suffused with it.
“You asked me why I wanted to find you,” he said after some silence had passed.
“Yes.”
“I am tired of wandering. I am going to an island with others of our kind. Do you want to come with me? It will be a place of peace and reason.”
“Why?”
“I am tired of war,” he said. “Aren’t you?”
“No, why do you invite me to come with you?”
He stepped closer, but she did not shrink back. She never would. Never again.
“You are my only child,” Jun said. “Clearly, the most worthy. And you are the only one who speaks the language of my birth.”
She blinked. “Have so many years passed?”
He smiled sadly. “Yes, they have.”
She thought about his offer. Then she said, “You do not know me.”
“And you do not know me.”
“I have no desire for a master,” she said. “I will not answer to another again.”
“I will always be your sire.”
“I do not know what it means for you to be my sire,” she said. “Do you?”
He stared at one of the paintings on the wall. “I thought I knew what it meant, but perhaps I didn’t. Perhaps you will teach me.”
She wandered over the plains again, tracking Suk and his sons. When she found them, she killed them in their tents, then she set fire to the last of those who held the girl’s memory.
She became no one. Nameless. Though she passed others of her kind on the trade routes, she did not speak to them. She only engaged them if she needed to defend herself.
She existed.
Then one night, she realized she felt something. Not in her body, in her mind. It was a feeling that had crept up on her, as much a result of her years on the earth as the length of road she had traveled.
She was tired.
She found another cave, higher in the mountains where the winter was long. Bright flags rippled from the trees, like colorful birds. She found a cave where humans had been. A small statue sat at the back in a niche, hidden from the light. She crawled next to it and lay down, stripping off her clothes to cushion her flesh from the rocks, rubbing snow over her body to clean it.
She lay down with the bronze blade under her head, and for many seasons, she did not rise.
Humans came to her, first frightened, then curious, then reverent. She was high in the mountains, but the tribe who tended the small statue came regularly. She didn’t move, but they fed her, reaching out to touch her gently. She caught them with her mind, so they held out their wrists, letting her drink as she needed. She never took too much.
A tree took root near the mouth of the cave.
She watched as the years passed. Her eyes rested on the tree. Each day, it grew a little more. Each night, she watched its progress. The humans came. They brought finely woven blankets and laid them over her, so she did not feel the bite of cold. They brought food for her to fill her stomach, though she did not eat. She existed on blood, and she survived.
Years passed, the tree grew tall as a man. The humans brought polished stones and purple shells. Bits of carved bone and pottery.
When the tree was as tall as the mouth of the cave, they brought brightly colored beads and rings made of a shining metal that did not tarnish. Her bronze blade grew dull beneath her head, but still, she did not move.
To them, she was a god. Never aging. Never moving. Many years passed, and they whispered to her. Dreams and prayers. They asked for wisdom. For blessing. For answers to questions she did not know. She listened and thought about their lives, these humans who tended her. She listened, and when she was tired, she closed her eyes.
One night, she woke and he was there, sitting at the edge of the cave, perusing the treasure the humans had brought. There were jewels and scrolls. Colorful blankets and food. Intricately painted pots. Pounded metal vessels and carved wooden screens. The humans had painted the walls of the cave with beautiful designs they hoped would please her.
She sat up and spoke for the first time since the tree took root.
“Are you here to kill me?”
Her sire looked up from the scroll he had been studying. “Why would I do that?”
“I killed your sons.”
Jun shrugged. “Then they deserved to be killed.”
“Did you make more?” she asked, her rusted voice dripping with scorn. “Shall I kill them, too?”
Jun looked at her, then smiled. Then his smile grew wide; he threw his head back and laughed. The cave echoed with it. His beautiful face was suffused with glee.
“You are my finest warrior,” he said when he stopped laughing. “Who would have thought?”
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “How did you find me?”
“It took many years. You are a rumor in these mountains. A legend. The Sleeping Goddess. They tell stories of you on the roads. I followed the legends when I decided to look for you.”
“Why did you decide to look for me? Do you want to fight me?”
“No, my daughter.” He shook his head. “To tell the truth, I do not know which one of us would win.”
Her eyes flashed with arrogance. “I would.”
“You might.” But the glint in his eyes told her that Jun did not believe her.
Despite her pride, she had to acknowledge he was probably the greater warrior. Power poured off him in waves. The air around him was suffused with it.
“You asked me why I wanted to find you,” he said after some silence had passed.
“Yes.”
“I am tired of wandering. I am going to an island with others of our kind. Do you want to come with me? It will be a place of peace and reason.”
“Why?”
“I am tired of war,” he said. “Aren’t you?”
“No, why do you invite me to come with you?”
He stepped closer, but she did not shrink back. She never would. Never again.
“You are my only child,” Jun said. “Clearly, the most worthy. And you are the only one who speaks the language of my birth.”
She blinked. “Have so many years passed?”
He smiled sadly. “Yes, they have.”
She thought about his offer. Then she said, “You do not know me.”
“And you do not know me.”
“I have no desire for a master,” she said. “I will not answer to another again.”
“I will always be your sire.”
“I do not know what it means for you to be my sire,” she said. “Do you?”
He stared at one of the paintings on the wall. “I thought I knew what it meant, but perhaps I didn’t. Perhaps you will teach me.”
