The Knife's Edge

Chapter Eleven

Mura grabbed Gray’s shoulder and flung him back, and the together they landed heavily on the solid stone. “Let’s not do that again,” Mura said. “What just happened? Your past?”

“I’m not sure. I saw images of moves. I think... I’m starting to remember,” he said, his fist clenching on the rough, green lichen.

“Good!” exclaimed Mura. “Then show me what you learned!”

The hermit jumped to his feet, lashing out, and Gray leapt over the staff and retaliated, giving into his mind and the sword. Mura retreated. Gray’s Lopping the Branch grazed the hermit’s brow. Stepping back, Mura breathed hard and Gray hid a smile. “Do you need a rest?” he yelled over the sound of the falls.

The hermit dove towards Gray. “Parry!” he shouted, striking down and Gray swung his sword to his shoulder, covering his flank. “Strike!” And he struck. He flowed through Mura’s commands. “Parry, strike, evade!” And at the last strike, Gray blocked. Mura held the block for a moment, and then with a twist of his wrists, he flicked the blade like an adder’s bite.

Gray rebounded, feet scraping along the mossy stone. There was no extra strength in Mura’s block and yet, he was pushed backward by that simple added twist. “Teach me that,” he said.

“Teach you what?”

“What you just did. What was that?”

Mura shrugged. “A little trick.”

“That was more than a little trick,” Gray replied. “You gained power from nothing.”

“Not nothing,” the hermit said, “There is power to be found and added in every move, and not always in the might of ones arms, but often in the hidden movements. First you must loosen your whole body, it must be like a cord that snaps tight at the last moment. Imagine yourself like a bolt of lightning, quiet and deadly, and only upon impact do you shatter stone and splinter wood.” Gray did as he instructed. With each strike he began to understand what Mura meant—the added flick became audible, adding a whoosh to the tip of his yen bundle.

“You’ve got it,” he proclaimed with a broad sweep of his arms.

With a flash of his yen sword, Gray struck Mura’s open flank, this time adding the snap to his sword. Mura threw up his staff and the two weapons collided. But with Gray’s added power the hermit toppled backwards, falling into a nearby bush.

“Caught you behind your castle wall did I?” Gray asked as he extended a hand.

Mura wiped an astonished look from his face and grumbled, “Aye, aye, well done lad.” He took his hand and rose, brushing dry twigs and leaves from his pants. “Seems you’ve learned enough for today, and besides, the weather appears to be taking a turn for the worse.” He eyed the ominous black clouds that gathered in the distance.

Looking around at last, Gray observed that they had not only backed off the bridge during the fight, but also now stood in the glade before the falls. A stand of trees obscured the view. Glancing back to his companion, he noticed with frustration that only a trace of sweat dotted the hermit’s forehead. Other than that, Mura was breathing no harder than if he had just come back from a walk in the woods. However, the smug smile was off his face, and he thought he could sleep easy at that sight. If I can sleep, as the bruises that covered his body coming into focus. He glanced to Mura who was now examining some strange looking blood-red mushrooms in the path.

“What is it?” Gray asked.

“I’m not sure,” Mura said, scratching his head. “These shouldn’t be here...” The curious red color of the mushrooms tugged at Gray’s curiosity. He approached and a smell like rancid meat hit his nose and he cringed. Pinching his nose with one hand, he reached out with the other to check if they had gills when Mura yelled. “Don’t touch them!” The authority of the order made his hand shoot back.

“Why?”

Mura walked over and knelt down beside him. He stared at the mushrooms before him and scrubbed a hand through his stubble. “I don’t know, but something tells me to be cautious about them.”

“Even more than usual?”

“Aye, I’ve lived here for years, but something feels different... A strange presence,” the hermit muttered, and then stood. “Let’s head back, lad. It’ll be good to get out of this cursed wind,” he grumbled to himself, walking back towards the house, muttering something about a pipe and a fire.

Gray gave one last look at the peculiar red mushrooms. At his side, his fingers burned as if he had touched the strange fungi. Oddly, even his wrist tingled and he pulled back his sleeve to reveal the sinuous tattoo upon his wrist. Turning, he hurried after Mura beneath the shrouded canopy, towards the darkening clouds.