And Faye, poor cursed, Faye… Once she knew her friends were going into harm’s way, even if it meant certain death, she would join them.
Such was Faye’s character.
When she found out—when he told her—she would go, and when Sullivan’s hunt inevitably ended in blood, Faye would be destroyed by the combined might of the Iron Guard, then the danger of the Spellbound curse would be postponed for another generation. At least Faye’s magnificent Power would be able to strike a great blow against the tyranny of the Imperium in the process. Let the candle burn the brightest right before it is snuffed out. Maybe he was just trying to justify his decisions, but he suspected that Faye would prefer it that way.
Jacques poured another. I am so sorry, Whisper. I do not know what you expected me to teach her. I have failed you.
UBF Traveler
It was one of Hattori’s fondest memories of his treasured master and teacher.
Lord Okubo sat upon the sand at the edge of a cliff and watched the sunrise. His loyal commanders knelt before him in the semblance of a makeshift court. Only a few days had passed since their battle against the Enemy in the deserts of Xinjiang, and Okubo was spending much of his precious time passing his accumulated wisdom on to his closest followers. It was as if during their struggle Okubo had achieved a new measure of enlightenment and now he wished to share it with his Dark Ocean.
“I was mistaken to think of it as a scout. That implies that the Pathfinder is a separate being from the greater Enemy. Do not think of it as a scout. Think of it as a tendril, a feeler. It is detached, but still part of the whole. Do you understand the vastness of space, Hattori?”
Being singled out from the group made him uncomfortable. “I… I have not dwelled on such things. I can look at the sky and see the stars…”An understanding fitting for a mortal man, but Okubo was no longer a mere mortal man. The Power had seen to that. Hattori was certain his answer would be insufficient.
“The heavens are larger than you can imagine. There are a multitude of worlds like unto our own, and then copies of those worlds existing in parallel, and realms between them beyond counting. We are only one of a multitude. Actions of significant enough consequence can be felt in these other worlds, like ripples across a pond.”
This would have been a blasphemous view of the universe coming from anyone else, but Okubo’s vision was not to be questioned, and none of the warriors voiced a disagreement. Their Russian monk seemed intrigued by these ideas, but he was a very philosophical individual, when he wasn’t molesting the peasant women, at least.
“The Power was born from one of these realms between. It was chased from its home, and has been chased from many others since. Like all prey, the Power avoids its predator. Like all predators, the Enemy must feed, or it will starve and perish. They are part of an eternal cycle, and because the Power came here, we are part of that cycle now as well. Tell me, Saito, how do we end this cycle once and for all, preferably in a manner which does not end all life in this world?”
“We kill the Enemy in battle!” Saito answered immediately. That was the proper answer for a member of the warrior caste to give.
“Incorrect. That is currently beyond our capability. How do we end this cycle?”
“I… I am unsure,” Saito said. Hattori was glad to see that the haughty former samurai was obviously ashamed by his ignorance. He had been badly injured during the battle and it had given him some measure of humility. “I do not know the answer, my Lord.”
Okubo gave Saito a patient smile, like a father would to an exuberant but inexperienced son. “Then it will be our sacred duty to find the answer.”
“I will.” Saito touched his forehead to the sand.
The master of Dark Ocean continued his lesson to his disciples. “The Enemy pursues the Power because it must. It spreads bits of itself across the vastness of space, searching on all worlds, hoping, waiting for one of them to discover magic, so that the rest of it may come and eat. As time passes, it starves and becomes more desperate. It will send ever greater portions of itself out, searching with increasing desperation, because it must find the Power, or it will die.”
He could not help but ask. “Can the Enemy truly die?”
“Anything can die, Hattori.”
“Even you?” Hattori was doubtful about that.
“Of course I can die. It is inevitable that something stronger will eventually take my place. That is the way of things. But back to the Enemy; it may seem incredibly strong. So strong, in fact that an incomprehensible being such as the Power quails in fear of it. Yet what happens when a predator starves?”
The Russian spoke for the first time. “It becomes more ferocious. It holds nothing back. It does nothing but seek food.”
“Exactly.”
“So there will be more, and stronger than this one?” Hattori asked in shocked disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how such a being could possibly be worse.
“Yes. It is easy to think of the Pathfinder as needing to absorb magic in order to send a message home. That is not the case. Rather, it is gathering the strength needed to put down roots. The Pathfinder is a seed. It is an anchor. If it becomes set, it will inevitably draw the rest of itself across the realms, until the greater whole of the Enemy is here, and when it does, we will all die.”
“So defeat is assured?”
“I do not think so. A starving predator is a ferocious predator, but it can also be a stupid predator. Desperation causes mistakes. Perhaps in time, if we can continue to defeat these Pathfinders, these desperate tendrils, we can starve the Enemy to the point that we can destroy it once and for all.”
And that concluded the lesson.
Such greatness. Such selflessness. Such honor. Toru was humbled to have descended from and been tutored by the warriors of Dark Ocean. To think that Saito was insulting their sacred cause filled him with righteous anger. He had been there! Yet it also caused Toru to ponder upon his own failings. He knew abandoning his order had been the correct course of action, but if he was honest with himself, his dedication to the ideals of the Iron Guard had already slipped before that. He had been found wanting, and that weakness had taken him from the front lines to the Diplomatic Corps in Washington. It had been a fortunate circumstance, because otherwise he would never have been able to serve under Ambassador Hattori, but it had still been as a result of his weakness.
And now they were flying directly to the site of his past failings.
Toru’s meditation period was over. Someone had entered his section of the hold. He kept his eyes closed, listening to the creaks and the pops of metal shifting and the constant noise of the engines, but beneath all of that had been a footstep. His hands were resting on his knees, but near at hand was the hilt of the sword which had once belong to Sasaki Kojiro. As a Brute, he would be able to unsheathe the mighty blade and cover the length of the cargo hold before most men could react and pull a trigger.