Lady Sword-son

I do not care for this man named Ghostdog. We are crouched together on a rise overlooking the abandoned way-station from the times of the old empire, this Ghostdog making the decision whether or not it is safe to enter. 

The way-station looks peaceful enough; it was set up like a military post, with the remains of the buildings in orderly rows facing the road running through it, and enclosed by a wall with gates set up on either end. Of course, the wall would do us little good now, having gaps large enough to drive a wagon through, but once it must have been formidable.

In the center of the compound on the left is a large, ruined building made up of arches, and across the road a wide basin with an aqueduct through which water still flows. Grandfather, which is the name the old healer prefers we call him, said there is a family of goblin-kin nearby who keep the aqueduct in good repair. He also said we will not see them, our party being too many in number, which is sad. I would like to meet someone of a different race who is not a Daemo. I have met enough Daemo to last my lifetime.

How long does this Ghostdog plan to stare at the place? I am tired and I want a bath. Ghostdog could use a bath; he stinks worse than the driver my squires named Crusty, and his armor looks scavenged off a corpse. I stare boldly at his face for I am a man now, and this is what men do. 

He was handsome once but now has grown old, very close to fifty if he is a day, which is almost ancient, and his face is that of a barbarian from the west beyond the great mountains. Yet he claims to have been born in the lands of the east. I know he is lying…but I also know Tiny was born to a shadow-walker, and Grandfather claims this Ghostdog is his father. Tinados is my friend, perhaps the best one I have ever had, and for his sake I will accept this Ghostdog. But I will not trust him. “Everything looks quiet.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” he replies. Then he glances at me and smiles. “But in this case I think you’re right. He rises to his feet and I follow suit. “Let’s head down to the gate and make sure it’s wide enough for the wagons to pass…”

Seven ravens swoop down and pass in front of him single file. They make no sound, not even the rush of their wings, which is eerie, and as each one passes it flies on towards the ruined way-station where they begin to circle. The smile is gone from Ghostdog’s face. “Looks are deceiving. Keep your hand close to your katana and be ready to draw in an instant.”

I try to make sense of what just happened. “You have trained your ravens to warn you of danger?”

He begins striding down the hill towards the ruined gate, and I hurry to catch up as he speaks over his shoulder. “The ravens want my death but at the hands…well, the claws, of another Shadow Raptor, because only then can they return home. If I get killed by something else they’re pretty much trapped here in the Middle Kingdom. So when they sense something that would cheat them of my death, they give me an omen of danger.” He strides on, not seeing the look of disbelief I give to his back.

He stops when we reach the gate and a moment later I come to a halt beside him, my eyes examining the ruined gate instead of looking for some immaterial sign of danger. Most of the structures belonging to the old empire are gone, torn down to make building material for new constructions, so this is the first chance I have had to see something from ancient times. 

The gate is ten or twelve feet high and smooth, with a carved image of the mythical White Tiger on the left side and an elongated dragon with a bearded face on the right, the carved writing around it so badly weathered only a letter here and there can be seen. Ivy has covered much of the ruined walls extending to either side, but here the stone is exposed, as if someone has been keeping it clear.

Ghostdog is standing in the gateway with his eyes closed and nostrils flared, which makes no sense to me, so I decide to walk past him and take my first step. Then stop as he puts out an arm to block my path. “Wait. Close your eyes and breathe through your nose.”

I want nothing more than to beat him with a stick. But I do as he says, getting nothing…wait, there is a scent, faint…something unpleasant. “There is a dead animal somewhere ahead of us.”

“A lot of little dead animals, actually.” I open my eyes and see he is pointing at something ahead of us. Whatever buildings once lined the flagstone road are now little more than stone foundations covered with ivy, letting me see the aqueduct pouring water into a cracked stone basin large enough for a half dozen people to bathe in, the water flowing out in a small stream as fast as it is pouring in. Scattered on the ground in front of the basin are the carcasses of a dozen or more dead birds and several small animals, including a fox. To my surprise the fox raises her head and bares her teeth.

Glancing over at Ghostdog I see he now wears a slight smile. “I’ve seen this before. There’s a Daemo creature known as a Caimos that lives in water and spits out a paralyzing poison. If you examine the animals, you’ll likely find they’ve been drained of blood.”

“Why is the fox still alive?”

“Too big for the Caimos to finish off in one meal,” he replies. “It’s a lucky thing the Daemo race doesn't need a lot of blood to live on.”

I begin to understand why his ravens gave him an omen of danger. “So what do we do?”

“Is the old healer a strong enough Summer-mage to heat a pool of water?” I nod and Ghostdog gives me a satisfied smile. “I noticed some of the drivers have light crossbows. What we’ll do is arrange them in a line then have the old man heat the water enough to drive out the Caimos.”

The plan sounds fine to me. “My brother may have become a non-person to the family, but no one can argue about his skill with a bow. I will order him to…

A woman’s metallic voice speaks and I hear her, not with my ears, but inside my head. ‘So, now you have old men do your fighting for you? ‘