Soul Gem, EXCERPT ONLY
by Arnold Lenzini
Japan

Deep in a forest, a stream from the snow of the blue mountains cascaded into a lake. The fall was short. The notes of the rushing water, loud at first, softened to a murmur as the luxuriant growth within the forest absorbed its melody.

Aya silently stood on the shore of black pebbles and added her tears to the lake.

Deep within the lake lounged a dragon. Its power, linked to the fabric of space, was dissipating with the expansion of the universe. The world of its youth had long vanished within the distending bubble of time.

The dragon sensed an intrusion; a chemical alteration in the familiar mixture of the lake’s waters. Curious, it rose. First its horns and then its eyes broke the calm surface. Seeing the young woman standing in the shallows of the lake, it realized her grief was disturbing the serenity of the forest.

Aya sobbed as an image of her slain father and brother—their wet hair clinging to faces tinged blue with cold—filled her mind. She waded into the lake until the water came up to her breast. She gasped as the water chilled her nipples. Reaching a level area, she continued toward the center of the lake. The bottom plunged. She dropped, and then thrashed, instinctively, to the light. Surfacing, she looked for shore and swam to safety. Frustrated in her failed attempt to end her life, she stood in the shallows and wailed.

The dragon chuckled, sending ripples in concentric circles across the lake surface and alerting Aya to the unwelcome witness to her shame. Crossing her arms in front of her breasts, she stared wide-eyed at the dragon.

The lake erupted. Into the air the dragon rose, corkscrewing straight up above the canopy; its scales and surrounding trees lending an emerald tint to the shower that rained in sheets upon the lake. With a swoosh the dragon slid behind her and around, and then again, encircling her twice.

The dragon waved the pair of feelers at the end of its snout. “Foolish woman. Did you think I would let you so vainly desecrate this lake with your death? Even your tears violate the purity of my home.”

Aya stood within the double circle of shimmering green scales, welcoming the warmth generated from the dragon’s exertions. Having already decided on death, she was unafraid.

“Go ahead, dine,” she whispered. “Consume me.”

“Humans! Of all creatures only your kind has the gift of a soul. Of all creatures only my kind has the curse of seeing it. We yearn for beauty. You strive to destroy it.”

Aya sniffed and wiped her nose. “Dragon, tell me, what does my soul reveal of my grief?”

“Souls are gems of fire. Emotions are of pure oxygen to the flame within. How brightly misery burns in yours!”

“If the flame of my soul burns so brightly, then, much more do I desire one of dull corrosion; that I may wander through eternity without a spark than endure this grief for another day!”

The dragon puffed out smoke. “I am weary of my endless existence in the deep of the lake. I dearly desire to wander and taste life among you. I offer you vengeance if only you enable me to escape from the bonds of the lake.”

“Vengeance! I sought it and it eluded me. The man I wish dead enjoys life.”

The dragon’s lips curled upward, the bright eyes glinting. “I will be your avenger and champion through all the days of your life. We will journey together; I etched upon your back to awake at your summons.”

Aya blinked slowly. “Then, let it be so.”

“Cast off your garments and stand on the rock behind, and I will blow a summer breeze to warm you. Spread out your hair within my breath that I may dry it.”

Aya stepped back onto the rock, slipped off her garments, and bending her head forward and down, spread out her hair. The dragon, adding heat, blew gently through its mouth. Soon, Aya was dry and ready to accept the dragon.

“Stand with your legs spread,” the dragon rumbled. “Place your hair in front. Clasp your hands under your chin… Good, now, you must remain still.”

The dragon steamed. Purple smoke rose. The dragon, its open jaws glistening, flexed with all available strength. Space warped. Vision twisted. The dragon, its colors darkening, shrunk equally in every dimension. It vanished. Pain exploded. The dragon reappeared within the woman; they merged. Memories entwined and intermeshed.

The dragon dropped into the well of time.

Yoshimoto noisily sipped his tea and exhaled his satisfaction. Things were going well. He had correctly chosen to support the winning side in the war. Lord Tachibana had been grateful for his support and had suggested that one of his daughters was looking for a husband. Yoshimoto intended to fulfill that role. Though there was a minor problem; he had already promised to marry the daughter of a local samurai who had provided allies in a key skirmish. The samurai’s daughter was beautiful, but her family would not be as great an asset as Tachibana, and beauty fades. Knowing they would insist on honor, he made a simple decision. With ample resources to carry out his wish, he took the first step and told his servant to reject a visit.

Aya was weeping. She raised her face to her father and took a deep breath.

“Yoshimoto’s servant wouldn’t allow me inside,” she said softly. “He told me his master no longer wished to see me. I asked for explanation, yet I received only silence. When I begged to speak to him, the door was slammed in my face.”

The Morita family was sitting in front of their ancestral altar. Her father, looking at the small cedar board inscribed with her mother’s name, held back his anger. Her brother, his hands on his knees, gripped the cloth of his kimono. She hung her head in shame, words echoed in her heart: seduced, betrayed, and dishonored.

Her brother, Masaru, slammed his hands flat on the tatami. “Father, we must act! Honor and Aya’s future are at stake.”

“Do not be rash. Prepare for a meeting with Yoshimoto. Aya, wait here.”

The men stood as her father spoke, “We will request an explanation and remind him to honor our consent to wed our families.”

Aya bowed deeply. “Forgive me for my behavior.”

Her father paused. “Clean the tears from your face,” he said, his tone soft, the firmness gone. “Things may not be as you fear.”

Her father slid the door open and the men left to prepare. Despite her father’s attempt to suppress her fears, she couldn’t dispel a premonition of disaster. She knelt in front of the altar and prayed for their safe return.

The two Morita men set out for the Yoshimoto residence. Arriving without an appointment, they were asked to wait. A servant escorted them to a room with sliding doors on all sides. They sat with their feet under their buttocks, backs straight, with swords placed to their left on the tatami. Soon, another servant entered with cups and prepared their tea. Placing the tea in front of them, she bowed and left the room.

They waited, neither exchanging words nor looks, the tea untouched. The door opened. They bowed as Yoshimoto entered.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said as he sat down. “I hope all is well with you and Aya.”

 “Forgive me for being blunt,” the elder Morita said. “Aya is upset. Could you explain the treatment she received from your servant this morning?”

Yoshimoto’s eyes opened wide. “Aya was here this morning? I didn’t know. Excuse me, I will summon the head of my staff.” He stood, went to the door, slid it open, and clapped his hands twice.

Doors slid open on three sides, revealing six men armed with spears. Rising and pulling out their swords, father and son rose, back to back.

The spearmen attacked. A spear stabbed Masaru’s left side. He grabbed the shaft with his left hand and swept it forward with a twist of his body. He swung his sword; the blade just barely slicing the neck of his opponent. Blood filled the air in a fine spray. Surrounded and outnumbered, they had no chance.

They were slaughtered.

To read more of this story, be sure to check out Abaculus II.

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