The hand that held Shima around the throat was larger than his head. It clenched, briefly, giving him a moment of choking panic before he was flung to the side.
“Stay down, boy.” The deep, terrifying voice of Gota Bloody Eyes commanded. “I will kill you if you attempt to attack again. Do not let the fact that you are a child deceive you into thinking I will spare you.”
Shima remained curled in a ball on the floor, looking at the enormous villain, his pathetic fruit knife now utterly useless held in the gigantic hands.
Gota stood eight feet tall and seemed nearly as wide. He carried no weapon and claimed none could harm him either. He had gained his name due to the whites of his eyes being a crimson red.
Shima could only watch as the monster dragged his father’s dead body out the door of their home.
Why had Father been so determined not to pay the tribute? The rest of the village had told him that it was much easier to pay, Gota only took a small amount from each, he would not starve because of it.
But Father had been a soldier for Duke Legrand, he had his pride and his skill in swords. He told the rest of the village that they were cowards. He might have only lived among them for six months, but he had believed them to be people of conviction. How wrong he was that they would bow down to this so-called Bandit King without a fight.
They had tried so hard to persuade him not to fight, but he had been determined.
When Gota entered the village, his men following, the others had laid their tributes on their steps and hidden inside their houses. Not Father, he had waited for them in the village square, sword at the ready and demanded that Gota fight him. That he would not let a common thief simply walk away with what the villagers had worked hard for.
Gota had laughed at the impudence and agreed.
It hadn’t been a fight, it had been an execution. Father managed to swing one blow before the giant laid his hands upon him.
He had pummelled, wrenched and beaten Father until he was unrecognisable.
Shima had watched it happen from the house, standing in the doorway instead of hiding as Father had said.
When Gota had thrown Father through the wall of the house, the wood exploding around him, Shima had decided to fight back.
He hadn’t realised father was dead when he picked up the knife, hadn’t known it until he attacked and had it plucked from his hands. He had only known when the monstrous giant had forced him to look into the unseeing eyes of his father.
Now he lay, unable to move as his father’s body was nailed to the village gate, a warning and reminder to the others.
Averting his eyes from the terrible sight, Shima saw the remains of his cake, smashed over the floor.
His tenth birthday cake.
The villagers started out kind, making sure he had enough to eat. Giving him jobs and chores to earn money that he might not starve.
They fixed the wall and debated amongst themselves if they should send him away to the orphanage or one of them take him in. He had only been in the village for six months, none of them were related to him, he didn’t know where any relations of his father’s might be.
The kindness dulled when they found him practising with his father’s sword.
Their warmth became cold as he ran for miles, training his body and declaring himself in training.
Their welcome to him was rescinded when he declared that when Gota Bloody Eyes returned, he would slay the monster.
The day after he made his announcement to Mrs Aemin, the village head woman came to see him. The council had decided he was too young to live by himself. The house would be sold and the money used to send him away to school.
He was to leave the next day.
That night Shima packed his father’s sword, some food and clothes and fled into the woods.
The first month, Shima nearly starved to death. He had not been interested in hunting and trapping when his father had tried to teach him. Had not wanted to learn how to find water and shelter.
He lived to regret his youthful idleness, but just barely.
His first food in a week came when he found a a rabbit wedged between two stones, it must have slipped or the ground shifted. Even then, he nearly lost his meal by freeing the creature before killing it. A last second dive was all that stood between a full stomach and starvation.
He struggled to find water, blind chance leading him to a stream. He did have enough sense to refill his water bottles from it.
Slowly, he learned. The first six months were hard, the forest creatures were canny, afraid of humans and difficult to hunt.
He met two people during these days of wandering, both of them taught him something valuable.
The first was a soldier, a deserter from the war. The man showed him some basics of using a sword in exchange for food. He gave Shima a grounding which the man said would prevent him from stabbing himself in the foot.
That night, while Shima slept, the man left and stole all of his food.
The second person to teach Shima was a bandit. He pounced on the boy, knocking him down and stealing his father’s sword. Shima was forced to learn how to track, teaching himself the signs of the man’s uncaring passage. It took him two days to find him. While the bandit slept, Shima practised his stealthy movement to steal the sword back. He learned a valuable lesson about being certain you target was actually asleep and the bandit chased him through the trees for three days before Shima was certain he had lost him.
He made a home in a cave at the foot of a cliff, an hour’s walk from the nearest water source.
During this time, he did no training with the sword, too focused on simply staying alive.
Once Shima made himself a home, he dedicated himself to the sword. Working outwards from the basics the soldier had taught him, he developed his own fighting style. After a year of training by himself, he knew he needed to test his skills before hunting for Gota Bloody Eyes.
After a year and a half among the trees of the forest, Shima left and searched for civilisation.
At the first own he came to, he asked for the best fighter in town. He was directed to the sword school of Hiban the Long.
Shima challenged Hiban to a match, it was accepted.
Shima’s style was studied by the watchers, his movements unusual to see. They recognised no forms he displayed. His was the style of a self taught swordsman.
Hiban defeated him in two movements, dropping the boy to the floor.
Shima recognised the vast gulf in their skills and begged Hiban to admit him to the school and teach him.
As Shima had no money, Hiban agreed to teach him for a year, in return for doing chores around the school. Shima gladly agreed.
After the year ended, Shima left and went in search of a new opponent to test his skills against.
This became Shima’s life for the next twenty years.
He would spend a year learning from a master while doing the scut work of the school. After the year was up, he would leave, find a new opponent, be soundly beaten by them and then spend a year at their feet to learn from them.
Twenty masters, twenty styles, twenty defeats.
It was as his year studying under Mistress Dumai came to an end that the pattern would change.
“Tomorrow I leave you, Mistress. I thank you for your teaching.” Shima bowed his head and spoke respectfully.
Mistress Dumai sighed “Why would you leave tomorrow?”
“Because I have served you and learned from you for a year, as is my way. I must test myself before I seek Gota Bloody Eyes.”
“I know it is your way. It’s a damn stupid one.”
Shima gasped, while his other masters had expressed disappointment at his leaving, none had insulted him for it before.
“Why is my way stupid?”
“Because you haven’t learned nearly enough. It takes more than a year to learn my style of fighting, as I am sure it takes more than a year to learn the styles of your previous masters. Had I known of your incompetence and intransigence, I would never have agreed to teach you.” Mistress Dumai sounded annoyed.
Shima was insulted “You said I was skilled, that I had a natural prowess.”
“Yes, I did. So what? Natural skill is worthless without investment in refining it. Do you honestly believe that you have improved enough that you are ready to take on Gota Bloody Eyes?”
Shima growled at his now former master “Perhaps I am not yet ready for the monster, but I have improved.”
Mistress Dumai raised an eyebrow “Have you, indeed? When you arrived here, I defeated you in three movements. Test yourself against me once again. Show me that you hav improved your skills.”
Shima nodded, knowing this as the moment to demonstrate his improvement.
The two of them returned to the training floor, the other students came to watch.
They both raised their swords in salute and took their battle stances.
“Are you ready?” Mistress Dumai asked.
“I am always ready.” Shima replied.
The battle began.
Shima had indeed improved.
This time it took Mistress Dumai four movements to defeat him.
Shima stood outside the gate of the school, his face flushed with shame. Mistress Dumai would not re-admit him to the school.
“Please, Mistress, I must improve my skills to enact my vengeance.” He begged.
“You do.” Mistress Dumai agreed, “But you will not improve them here. You do not have the respect for me that I require of a student. How arrogant to think you could gain all of my secrets and knowledge in just one year. I have other students to teach, ones that pay their own way. You have become a perpetual student, always learning but never mastering.”
“I have been arrogant and I am ashamed.” Shima couldn’t help but agree with her assessment.
“However, I will not have it said that I cast out a student without hope when they have only foolishness and not malice in their heart.”
Shima looked her in the face, trying to guess what the hope might be.
“You do not know enough about the opponent you seek. Even were you to surpass me, you would still fail to find your vengeance. Gota Bloody Eyes has drunk from the waters of Yawer.”
Shima gasped, that monster had been allowed to drink the holy waters?
“I see your face, I understand your confusion. He was not allowed to drink, he stole the water. Gota had always been a fearsome warrior but he lusted for more. He managed to fight his way up the Path of Heaven and steal a mouthful of the waters of Yawer with his final moments.”
Shima felt frozen to the spot, the Bloody Eyes had battled the Guards of Heaven and won enough to reach the Yawer, and he had done it without supernatural aid? His claim that no weapon could cut him came back to Shima and he recognised it for truth and not the boast he had assumed.
“My life has been wasted.” He sobbed.
Mistress Dumai rolled her eyes “Did I not just say that I would not send you away without hope? I tell you this that you may realise you have followed the wrong path. You have sought the skills but not the weapon.”
“But no weapon can hurt him.”
“No weapon created by man. Do you know what happens when one drinks from the waters of Yawer?”
“The drinker becomes invincible, growing in size and power. They live longer than mortal men. They are the defenders of Heaven, normally.”
A nod “Yes, that is half correct. But do you think the Gods would be so foolish as to give men this power without a way to stop them if they hold turn evil?”
“I had never considered it.” Shima admitted.
“Few do. The Gods built a safeguard into the gift. When someone drinks of the waters they will bleed onto the stones by the waters edge. Those stones are given to Jikka, the immortal weapon master. He turns the blood and stone to metal and forges an unbreakable weapon, the only one that can kill the drinker. Each weapon is specific to an individual, while you may kill any number of mortals will the weapon, it will injure and kill only the drinker whose blood it contains.”
Shima’s eyes widened as the realisation came to him “Then I need to find this weapon.” His determination turned “I shall walk the Path of Heaven and ask for Gota’s weapon that I may end his terror.”
“You don’t need to go that far. The sword is in a cave in the Moxi mountains. There is a guardian with it. You must convince the guardian of your determination and truth. If you are lucky, they may help you, either with the sword or even with training.”
Shima bowed “I thank you, Mistress. I will not rest until I have achieved my vengeance.”
Mistress Dumai arranged for Shima to be hired as a guard for a merchant caravan heading to towards the mountains. They would not take him all the way to his destination, he would have a three day walk to reach the cave after they parted.
Shima enjoyed the three weeks he spent with the caravan. It as the first time he was part of a community since his father had died. He came to enjoy talking with the other guards at night. He even came close to making some friends. Shima was certain that if he had not departed the caravan, he would have become part of the company. The other men took some time to warm to his serious nature, but once Jangi learned that Shima knew no jokes he made it his personal mission to teach him as many as he could fit in during their time together.
When it was time to part, Jangi handed him a notebook with hundreds of jokes in that he hadn’t had time to tell him yet. Shima promised that if they met again, he would have learned them all and planned to come up with some new ones.
The journey was mostly uneventful, the Duke’s road had a minor bandit problem and so attacks were rare.
They encountered only one small band of them and for the first time Shima used the skills he had spent twenty years acquiring. He defeated his opponents easily, but he saw that the more experienced guards managed the same with less effort and much faster. Mistress Dumai had been right, he had acquired too broad a knowledge, he needed more specificity.
For three days he walked the paths of the Moxi mountains. Huddled against biting winds on the high ridges, marvelling at the sights of beauty below when he walked a common path. In all his travels he had not taken the time to enjoy the world he walked, too focused on his goal. Now that there appeared to be a moment to achieve it, Shima felt lighter in his soul. He knew that it would not come immediately, that he would have to work even harder to succeed, but the key to victory was within his grasp.
At the evening of the third day, as the sun began to bow below the peaks of the mountains, he came to the spring Mistress Dumai told him about. He drank of the cold, pure water before searching for the hidden path.
It wasn’t hidden well, it was simply unused. Plants and stones had grown over the slight wearing down caused by the passage of people. This path led to somewhere that people just didn’t go to any more.
Not long after leaving the spring, Shima found an old, weathered sign which read “Go away.”
His hand reached for his sword, but he stopped himself. It would not do to approach with any appearance of violence.
Another sign, less weathered than the first “I mean it. Go away.”
The guardian must be very choosy on who they see, Shima mused. He wondered if he should have asked for a meeting somehow before arriving.
The path wound higher and the air began to cool as the darkness grew.
He nearly missed the next sign and was barely able to read it in the dim light “Attack Goats on Patrol. Go away.”
This sign was newer still, but had obviously stood for a number of years.
Shima listened carefully for the sound of the attack goats, there was nothing to indicate life.
The path ended at the mouth of a cave where one final sign waited.
“May your feet never be dry again. Go away.”
Shima was suddenly very aware of his feet, the feel of them, his mind thought they were dry, but were they? He had been sweating. Was this sign a curse?
Wet feet would be a small price to pay for his vengeance. He stepped into the cave.
“Hello? I seek the guardian.” He called out.
A moan echoed from deep within the darkness, sadness and frustration were evident in its sound.
“Guardian?”
“Can’t you read?” A voice cried out, cracking with despair.
“I can. But I seek the guardian of Gota’s sword. I seek vengeance upon the monster who…”
“Killed your mother, your father, your sister, that girl you liked, your dog, your cat, whatever it was.” Interrupted the voice. “Of course you do. No other reason for you to be here.”
Shima was taken aback “You know of his evil? Then why do you hide away in his cave? Why do you not end him? That is what the weapon was for!”
Something glowed far away in the darkness, gaining in brightness as Shima looked. No, it wasn’t getting brighter, it was getting closer.
It as a man, younger than Shima, a tidy beard and straight hair that flowed beyond his solders. He did not walk, he floated, a spirit.
“I don’t do nothing about it because I am dead. I am forbidden to harm the living.” The spirt yelled. “I just want to be left alone. I don’t want this. I want to sit in the dark with Golden Swallow and wait for my vigil to end.”
“Golden Swallow?” Shima asked.
The spirit rolled his eyes at Shima “You don’t even know the name of that which you seek?”
Shima could only shrug “While I have trained for twenty years to defeat Gota, I only learned of his power and the sword three days ago. I was not informed of the name.”
The spirit calmed down and looked at Shima critically “Twenty years of training, you say? A master swordsman?”
Shima cast his eyes down “I do not call myself such.”
The spirit clapped “Modesty, how marvellous. I am Tungo, first blade of the Zona school. Come with me.”
Tungo summoned a ball of light to guide Shima’s steps and walked back into the cave. Shima didn’t know what had caused the sudden change in the spirit, perhaps all the others who came here were self proclaimed masters and their arrogance was too much to bear. He wasn’t going to waste this chance, however. He followed the spirit of Tungo into the dark.
The walk was long, but Tungo did not speak until they reached an open space where the cave ended. Shima thought he could hear whispers coming from the walls. Voices that cast doubt upon him. It was a test, one he must overcome to wield the blade.
Tungo cast the glowing orb up to illuminate the space. In the centres resting upon a rock was a beautiful weapon.
The hilt glowed with golden light, reflecting from the orb. The guard was the outspread wings of a swallow. The hilt itself was the body of the bird. A dark sheath covered the blade and Tungo gestured for him to pick it up and unsheathe the sword.
Reverently, Shima picked up Golden Swallow and removed the sheath.
The blade was flawless, its cutting edge so sharp that even the air felt like it split upon it.
“You are the wielded of Golden Swallow now. Go forth and slay the monster.”
Shima resheathed the blade and bowed to the spirit.
“I cannot go yet, I must learn your style of swordsmanship. This is what my last teacher told me.”
“What!” Tungo was outraged. “You said you have studied for twenty years, you must have a style Of your own that will suffice. You must be a Master.”
Shima kept his head down “I have studied at twenty different schools for a year each. I was foolish and never mastered a single one of them.”
Tungo stared at him and then began laughing before he started to cry.
Shima felt a great shame, he had received Golden Swallow only because of a misunderstanding.
“I will give up the blade until I am worthy of it.”
Tungo laughed again “Oh yes, that’s easy. Just give it up. Its not like I just told you that you were the wielded of Golden Swallow. Not like this is a mystical blade that is wielded by just one person until their death in battle. Give it up, why not?”
Shima’s face flushed with shame, it burned. He had defiled something sacred.
“If I can not give it up, then I must learn from you. I must be taught your style that I may defeat Gota Bloody Eyes.”
Tungo sighed “Of course. Why did I think…” his voice trailed off sadly.
The light went out and all was darkness.
“We are going to sit here in the dark, quietly, until I can think of a way out of this.” Tungo told him.
Shima never knew how much time passed in the dark. Tungo did not speak to him, but he heard mocking laughter and small cries surround him. It was more than a day, but less than a week, for while he finished his water, he did not start to feel the strong pain of hunger.
Without warning the globe of light reappeared, hurting his eyes He could just make out Tungo standing in front of him.
“You will show me what you already know. We shall go into the light that I may see your form fully.” The spirit turned away and headed for the exit.
Shima scrambled to his feet, keeping a tight grip on Golden Swallow, not wishing the weapon to be sullied by the dirt of the floor.
Shima stepped out of the cave mouth beside the sign about wet feet. Tungo stayed inside.
“Show me a ready stance, prepare for battle.”
Shima placed his feet and drew his father’s sword, unwilling to use Golden Swallow yet. He set himself, ready to launch an attack.
“What is that? Your feet are in Ferret’s Dance, your torso in Ape Roars and your arms, is that supposed to be the Snake Coils?” Tungo yelled, furious.
“My arms are the Waves that Break.” Shima said.
“No they aren’t, Master Fio would cry to see such poor form.” Tungo buried his head in his hands, “You have cobbled together all styles without knowing the purpose of each.” He lifted his head “Strike three times. Deflect a blow, break a stance and strike a killing blow.”
Shima moved with all the grace and power he knew.
Tungo howled “Awful, graceless. Worse than a child picking up a blade for the first time. You would defeat someone distracted, maybe.” The spirit began to cry.
Shima sheathed the sword and bowed “My apologies.”
“Maybe I should send you off anyway. Your confusing mess might distract Gota long enough to get a lucky blow in.”
In his heart, Shima knew the criticism was valid. Mistress Dumai had said as much. He had fallen into a routine of leaving after a year, believing it to be his path. Never realising it was the foolish choice of a child.
“What can I do, Guardian?”
Tungo sighed, looked at Shima, sighed again and appeared to be fighting back tears.
“May I not return the weapon?”
“No, you can not. Golden Swallow can only be wielded by you until you are effected in combat. You are bound to it until Gota Bloody Eyes is killed.” The spirit howled to the skies “I am mocked. Forever mocked.”
“Will you teach me, then?”
Tungo glared “I am not left with much choice, for all the good it will do. This first year will be spent making you unlearn everything the last twenty years has taught you. I’d rather you were a babe than this mix of styles.”
True to his word, Tungo taught Shima nothing for the next year. Instead he forced him to unlearn all that he had acquired.
At first Shima had thought it would not take a whole year, but when, after the first month, he still could not stand without placing his feet into one of the many stances of the twenty styles he had learned, he began to wonder if a year was long enough.
Tungo would berate and curse him for his overtaught foolishness. Shima did not even hold a sword until the eleventh month wen Tungo began to unteach all the grips he had learned.
Six days after the year had passed, Tungo was satisfied that Shima had reverted to a know nothing. All of his ingrained habits were gone. He was malleable again.
The next day Tungo allowed him his first ever day of rest and suggested he spend it sleeping, for the true training would begin the day after.
Before Tungo, Shima would have sad that Master Duler was the toughest teacher he had ever studied under. Master Duler would hang students by the arms in the midday sun and have them hold themselves up by strength alone. Master Duler believed that beating students with practice swords made them unafraid of pain. Thirst, starvation, injury, tiredness, all of these were obstacles to overcome for students of Master Duler. He was a tyrant who didn’t care for his students at all.
Shima would have gladly lived the rest of his life under the tutelage of Master Duler than spend a moment longer than necessary under the guidance of Guardian Tungo.
There were two things about Tungo’s teaching that made life so hard. The first was that he demanded absolute perfection, the placement of feet and body shape would be criticised and corrected if they were even a hair’s breadth out of place. Every motion had to b exact. Whole weeks would pass simply on one footstep.
The second was more hurtful. Tungo did not appear to want to teach Shima his style. He did so, but there was no joy of instruction, no passion that his student was learning. When Tungo said it was all a waste of time, Shima did not get the impression it was because he was not learning, for he was. As the months and years passed, he became perfect in everything Tungo taught him. But his Master gave sign of happiness his student was mastering he techniques and style.
Even as he achieved all that was asked of him, Shima never felt a sense of accomplishment.
The training took thirteen years. On the day that Tungo had him run through every exercise, every motion, every defence and attack and Shima performed them all perfectly, his Master told him that he had nothing left to teach him.
“So, I am ready to kill Gota Bloody Eyes.” Shima said.
“No, you are not.” Tungo replied, his voice tired and sad.
That day, Shima left the cave which had been his home for thirteen years, the longest time he had ever spent in one place his entire life. He was forty four years old and in the best shape of his life. His muscles were toned an in perfect condition for swordplay. His mind was sharp in combat, his movements adaptable and deadly.
He would never be more ready to kill Gota Bloody Eyes.
The paths he had taken to the cave had changed little in the intervening years. He took the time, once again, to marvel at the beauty of the world.
When he found himself at the road once more, he saw more travellers passing than had been upon it during his nature trip with the caravan.
Shima called out to an old couple pulling a cart loaded with belongings.
“Why are so many of you on the road? Are you all travelling towards something or away?”
“Away.” Yelled back the woman “Gota Bloody Eyes is conquering the kingdom. Its said he will even take the capital and declare himself King.”
Shima was taken aback, Gota had survived as a bandit chief for years, why would he want to rule a kingdom now? He asked the old couple.
“He fell in love with the King’s daughter. The King refused to let the Princess marry a bandit. So Bloody Eyes said if that was the case, he may as well be the King himself.”
Shima bade the old couple farewell and looked closer at the travellers. All looked tired. There were no men of fighting age amongst them, no women either now he really looked. Only children, cripples and old people.
War had come to the kingdom while he trained. How many people were suffering and dying?
He could end this, he could save them all. Simple vengeance remained at his core, but the desire to protect everyone he could was a stronger emotion.
Walking against the tide of refugees, Shima walked along the road, heading for battle.
For three months Shima made his way towards Gota Bloody Eyes and his army. In that time he defeated five of the bandit would-be-king’s trusted lieutenants. None of them had cause to make him need more than four movements to strike them down.
The legend of the Golden Swallow ran ahead of him. Wherever he came across Gota’s men, battle would be declared and the mystical blade would make short work of the common soldiers.
Shima found his way to the main army battle camp. There were thousands of soldiers inside and he knew that he could not hope to defeat them all by himself. So he sent a challenge to Gota, declaring his reign of blood to be over. That the Golden Swallow had come for his head at last.
Shima did not expect much, perhaps a small contingent to be sent for him. He could draw them away and kill them with a hit and run strategy or maybe draw them into conflict with the King’s forces which opposed them. All he needed was a weakening, an opening to strike at that hated monster, Gota Bloody Eyes.
What he received was a messenger who said “Lord Gota accepts your challenge, wielder of Golden Swallow. He will see you and your Master at dawn. You have the night to prepare your soul.”
The messenger left Shima, standing alone.
“He will see my Master? Does he not know he is a spirit trapped in a cave?” Shima wondered aloud.
“Who said I was trapped in that cave?” Master Tungo said, appearing beside him.
Shima gasped “Master, how are you here?”
“You didn’t listen to anything I said about Golden Swallow. Never mind. We will wait in silence for the dawn. Prepare yourself.” Tungo knelt upon the grass and closed his eyes, clearly not in the mood to answer any questions.
Shima knelt beside his Master and prepared himself for the duel.
Just before the light of the sun began to illuminate the day, Shima was stirred from his meditation by the sound of horns.
They blew a triumphal note and came from the camp of Bloody Eyes.
Rousing himself to stand, Shima looked to the camp and saw, for he first time in over thirty years, the huge figure of Gota Bloody Eyes walking towards him. The beast was flanked by an honour guard holding torches.
As they drew close and the sun lit the scene, Shima could see that the monster had not aged a day.
“Welcome, wielder of Golden Swallow.” Gota gave him a mocking bow. “Welcome, Tungo.” The bow to his Master was deeper and sincere.
Shima did not return the bow, but Master Tungo did, just as respectfully as the one given to him.
“What brings you to me, holder of the blade? What wrong did I do you?” Gota smiled, clearly not caring what the reason was.
“You killed my father.”
Gota shrugged “I’ve killed many fathers. Is there some reason yours should stick out to me?”
“I doubt it. He was just a man defending his home.”
“So, it is vengeance then?”
“It was. Then I saw the devastation your war has wrought. I have seen the suffering you leave behind. I will end this and spare the innocents you have yet to harm.” Shima yelled.
Master Tungo turned to face him, wide eyed “You’ve changed your mind? Again? Can you never simply focus?”
Shima didn’t turn away from his enemy “My vengeance is my core. My desire to protect others is warmed by it.”
Master Tungo threw up his arms “I knew it. I should have put up more signs or actually trained some attack goats.”
Gota laughed, full of dark humour “Shall we begin? I want to eat my breakfast while it is hot.”
Shima drew Golden Swallow “Your breakfast will go uneaten.”
“Interesting words as a battle cry. Do you have anything to add, Tungo?”
Master Tungo shook his head.
Gota stepped forward of his men and the spirit of Master Tungo faded from sight.
“Any last words, boy? Or are you happy with your breakfast comment?”
“My name is Shima Diama. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
Gota shook in mock fear “Ooh, much better. Whenever you are ready.”
Without another word, Shima shot forward, his first movement, Eel Bites.
Gota dodged the strike and kicked at his legs.
Leaping into Frog on a Cloud, Shima moved into Rain Soaks Board.
Gota ducked and grabbed his forearm, pulling him to the ground.
The two parted.
“Two movements, no-one has ever made it to five. Let’s see how you do.”
Shima did not reply, shocked at how easily his attacks had been evaded. He would aim for disabling blows instead, take off the beast’s hands to neuter him. Then he could go for the killing stroke.
He got halfway through Petals in the Storm effort Gota’s huge hand closed around his throat.
Shima stared into the red eyes of the monster ad saw them twinkle with laughter “Two and a half. Not bad.” He snapped Shima’s neck. “Not good either.”
Shima was dropped to the floor, dying as his body failed to breathe. The world fading away as he saw Master Tungo lift Golden Swallow from the floor.
“How many is that now, Tungo?” Gota asked the spirit.
The darkness was everything as Tungo replied “Seventeen.”
“Another failure.”
“How many movements?”
“Ask him.”
“You ask him.”
Shima became aware of voices around him in the darkness, whispering, laughing, crying.
Then there was light, Mastr Tungo replacing Golden Swallow upon the stone. He was back in the cave.
“Master Tungo. What happened?” Shima called out.
Master Tungo dropped his head “You lost. What do you think happened?”
“But how? How could I have lost?”
“Because he was better than you.” Tungo replied, as tough talking to a simpleton.
“But I mastered your techniques. I mastered your style. The style of the guardian of Golden Swallow.”
Master Tungo whirled around, throwing his hands to the air “So what?”
“So, your style is that of Golden Swallow. The style created to defeat Gota Bloody Eyes.”
Master Tungo burst out laughing, holding his belly as waves of hysteria consumed him “Who…who told you that?”
“But, its obvious.”
Master Tungo pointed a finger “You never listened. Try doing so now. I am the Guardian of Golden Swallow, the first to wield it. I was already a Master Swordsman when I was given that honour. Wielding Golden Swallow gifts immortality until defeated in battle or the destruction of Gota Bloody Eyes. Just like me, you are now bound to Golden Swallow until his death. The same as the others here. Say hello everyone.”
A cacophony of voices filled the cave until Tungo motioned them to be silent.
“If that is true, how are you a spirit?” Shima demanded.
Tungo shook his head “Still you don’t understand, do you? Gota killed me hundreds of years ago. My style was no match for him then. I don’t know why you thought the technique of a dead man would be the superior choice!”
© Robert Spalding 2020
Ghost Stories by Robert Spalding 