Root & Earth: The Chronicles of Mori, #1

Chapter One

There were a thousand things that could kill you in the forests of Mori. To Kaito’s mind, too many of them looked completely innocuous.

Take the burrow in front of him. Spikejaws were heavy, lumbering creatures; they should have been easy to avoid, despite being permanently bad-tempered. Every village had a merchant or two, even a veilwalker, who’d lost a leg or an arm to the beasts, though. They might be slow, but they had jaws like a hunter’s trap, and were liable to attack at the slightest provocation. Even on this balmy spring morning, the forest and its inhabitants could find new and interesting ways to rip you apart.

If Kaito had been a lesser veilwalker, or a more superstitious one, he would have touched his calf or his hip or his wrist at the thought, any one of the places his daggers were concealed. As it was, simply their weight against his flesh told him all was as it should be.

An alien bird call turned his head to the north and Kaito winced. Genru kept insisting on these ridiculous calling signals.

Still, at least that meant it was time to move. Kaito made one last study of the clearing below, taking in every last detail, then turned to the north. He chose his destination with care: a wide tree branch, easily visible, free of obstructions. With it fixed firmly in mind, he ‘jumped’.

He’d never found a better word for it, though it wasn’t much of a jump at all. Kaito usually described his trait, to those few who didn’t know, as something between lightning-fast movement and being in two places at once, but that was an unwieldy description. So, instead, a ‘jump’, taking him directly to the open branch.

Genru didn’t flinch at his sudden arrival. Why didn’t you reply?

You don’t think spikejaws can tell the difference between real birds and us?

Genru shrugged and swung down from the branch, landing easily on the ground. They’re fairly stupid.

Kaito followed him down, at a conventional speed, for once. And your bird calls are fairly terrible.

Ignoring the insult, Genru asked, What did you see?

The burrow’s occupied. Even a quick survey of the clearing had made that abundantly clear: the wide-mouthed burrow, recently disturbed; the strong animal musk; the faint snuffling snores. Must be a new occupant. We cleared this one only a month ago.

It’s too close to the road. Genru looked off through the trees; sure enough, a pale ribbon of road was visible.

We’ve cleared it once, Kaito said, setting off in that direction. We’ll clear it again.

I wouldn’t be so keen if I were you. Those spikejaws are nasty buggers.

He did reach for a dagger this time, the handle rough and reassuring beneath his fingers. Keen isn’t really the word.

The road opened before them. Through long ingrained habit, they both paused, crouching to peer beyond the trees. The thoroughfare here ran west to east, the gravelled surface wide and the undergrowth kept in check. It was, at a glance, entirely empty.

Shall I see you back at the village? Genru asked. You can report to Grandfather before I arrive.

Nice try. We’ll report together.

Genru pulled a face that was half scowl, half smile. Reporting to the village’s leader could be difficult; even if it hadn’t been, Kaito wasn’t about to fly back home alone. There was a reason even veilwalkers worked in pairs out here.

They’d walked only a few paces before Genru stopped, his nose twitching. Kaito stopped, too. With his tracking trait linked so closely to his sense of smell, Genru’s nose wasn’t something you ignored.

Blood, he said. Human. West–

They both heard the knife, which was poorly constructed and whistled as it flew, but only one of them had a hope of dodging it. Luckily, it was aimed at Kaito’s head.

He ducked, rolling fast enough to cloud himself in the road’s dust. The knife thudded into a tree and stuck there, juddering. Genru was already off the road and Kaito slithered after him.

A second knife whistled after them but went wide, clattering across the gravel. Not thrown by a veilwalker, to miss so badly. Unless…

The dust was clearing, a figure emerging from it in silhouette. They had another knife ready to be thrown, but they were also hunched, a hand clutching their side. Injured.

Genru sniffed again. Just the one, he confirmed. Can you take her?

Do you really need to ask that? Kaito didn’t wait for a reply. He jumped.

He closed a hand around the woman’s wrist, squeezing until she gasped and dropped the knife. His other hand reached to deliver a swift chop to the neck. She twisted, though, and suddenly her free hand wasn’t holding her innards in, but gripping another knife, swinging in a glittering arc towards–

Kaito froze. The blade’s tip hovered half an inch above the skin between his eyes. Clearly, he’d underestimated her. Injured or not, this woman was fast.

Don’t move, she hissed.

I wasn’t going to. Kaito still held her other wrist, and she’d twisted herself well off-balance to catch him, but he still knew how much damage that poised knife could do. She was controlled, her hand steady, but there was a touch of desperation in her searching gaze.

Let me go, she insisted.

I can’t do that. She was definitely trained, and an unknown veilwalker couldn’t be allowed to roam unhindered in Root territory.

The woman was watching him carefully, but Kaito didn’t think she’d worked out what he was about to do, only that he was about to do something. She leaned forward, eyes narrowed, until the knife tip pricked his skin – exactly the opening Kaito needed.

Sorry, he said.

He aimed for her side, making a sharp jab at her wound. She screamed, face contorting in agony. In other circumstances, Kaito would have felt guilty – except it worked. The hovering dagger clattered into the road, and he just had time to catch the woman before she crumpled to the ground.

***

The Village of Root and Earth was almost invisible against its backdrop of tree-cloaked hills. The narrow defile that formed its core snaked between two rising peaks, and only the heavy stone gates enclosing the valley gave much sign there was a village at all.

After the initial shock at the sight of so much blood – Kaito was as liberally coated in it as the injured woman draped over his shoulder – there was much laughter at the gate.

What’s this, Kaito? You’re having to bash women over the head to bring them home with you?

Kaito’s smile turned into a grimace. He and Genru had patched up the woman as best they could, but there was no telling how much more blood she’d lost since.

Leaving the snickering guards behind, they made their way into the village proper. The canyon opened before them, a stream running along its floor and dozens of stone stairs leading into the carved cliff walls, to balconies and doorways and bamboo walkways strung from one side to the other.

Kaito left Genru behind and climbed the longest flight of steps, to the bright and airy rooms of the village’s infirmary. Nurses met him at the door, carrying the wounded woman away without a word. He stood for several minutes, blood slowly drying into his clothes and skin, before one of them returned.

Who is she and what happened to her?

Kaito didn’t have an answer to either question. She attacked us while we were on patrol.

The nurse raised an eyebrow and Kaito could see what was coming. She was already in that state when we found her, he said hurriedly. Well, when she’d found them, really, but no-one needed to know that.

Couldn’t you have brought her here sooner? The nurse seemed determined to reprimand him for something, and she knew his trait just as everyone in the village did.

She attacked us, Kaito wanted to complain, but that seemed petty when the woman was bleeding her life away in the next room. I didn’t think it safe to rush her here in such a poor condition, he said, which was true enough. He wouldn’t have moved her at all, if there had been any way to avoid it. Just how long had the veilwalker woman been travelling, though? They were days from the closest village. And what had happened to her?

A shout rang out, followed by the clatter of overturned furniture. Kaito was there almost before he realised what he was doing. He saw exactly what he’d expected: the veilwalker woman, crouched beside a bloodied bed, a fearsomely sharp surgical instrument in her hand.

Those nurses who hadn’t fled were crowded into the opposite corner, one of them bearing a wicked looking slash across her forearm.

Anger surged in Kaito’s chest. We’re trying to help you, he grated.

The veilwalker woman growled, a sound of pure, bestial rage. Where am I?

Kaito held up a palm, as if that would do anything to defuse the situation. At least it calmed his own anger. This is the Village of Root and Earth. We found you in the forest not far from here, injured.

The woman’s expression told him she remembered their meeting well enough. She glanced around the room, an animal caught in a trap.

I’m the last, then, she said. Softly, sadly. She straightened, the blade dangling from her fingers as though forgotten.

Kaito was about to reach for it when he saw the flicker of colour on her tongue. The woman swallowed with an audible gulp. Even before he made it across the room, her eyes rolled into her head and she collapsed.

Two nurses barged past him. Kaito backed away, into the corner they’d vacated. One hand went to the pouch inside his shirt, where half a dozen elixirs in various forms rested. Impossible to test them, of course, if you wanted to live, but he knew what he carried for the very direst of circumstances – and he knew just what the woman had taken.

For while her chest still rose and fell, she was now dead to the world, and there was nothing anyone could do to wake her.

***

The Grey Death. Grandfather’s fingers tapped the report lying on the low table before him, and its words written in Kaito’s meticulous hand. Are you sure?

Kaito, cross-legged on the other side of the table, nodded. To take the Grey Death was a great rarity amongst veilwalkers, far rarer than simply committing suicide to avoid capture. It was said to lead the consumer into the realm of the Grey Spirit itself, without committing them wholly to death.

Then she believes herself safe here. Grandfather rolled the report into a neat scroll, then laid it beside an abandoned bowl of rice and pickles. But she doesn’t want to be interrogated.

She is safe here, Kaito said. Isn’t she?

Grandfather’s expression was unreadable. As leader of their village, he had the reputation of a cantankerous, irascible old man, more likely to deal out sharp words than praise, no matter how deserved. Kaito, on the other hand, had spent enough time in Shunichi Hatoyata’s company to see a not-yet-old man, forced to put aside his sword and turn to a life of paperwork after losing a leg – and, more importantly, for the sake of village peace.

Does she think she’ll be rescued by her own people? Grandfather went on.

She said she was the last, Kaito replied, and you didn’t answer my question.

Grandfather sighed and kneaded his forehead with finger and thumb. What would you have me do with her, Kaito? She’s an enemy veilwalker. She could have been on her way here to spy, or assassinate, or sabotage our supplies.

I know what veilwalkers do, Kaito said, with an almost mocking smile.

Well then. We don’t know where she’s from or what she’s doing here. She tried to kill you and Genru.

A misunderstanding. She was scared.

Really? Because your report doesn’t make her sound scared, not at all.

Kaito glanced at the scroll, sitting innocently beside Grandfather's forgotten meal. He’d been honest in it – perhaps too honest.

We can’t question her, Grandfather said. She’s seen to that quite comprehensively. I can give you a few days to send out messenger birds to the other villages, see if anyone knows of her, but after that…

They wouldn’t know – Kaito was already certain of that. There’s another way, he said. When Grandfather didn’t speak, he went on, I could go south–

Grandfather tutted. And drag Sabara back here, after you drove her away?

Kaito winced. Harsh, even for Grandfather, to bring that up, though it was true his relationship with Sabara hadn’t ended well. I think she’d be able to break the Grey Death.

At what price to her? You know Sabara felt compelled to leave the village, Kaito, and not just for your sake. There were those who accused her of meddling and–

She wasn’t meddling. Kaito couldn’t help himself, though he wasn’t sure why he was defending Sabara, after all this time. Her study of our traits was perfectly legitimate.

Grandfather raised one unkempt eyebrow. "There’s no need to explain her actions to me, but that doesn’t mean I can sanction her return."

Even to break the Grey Death?

There was a pause, as Grandfather considered. You want to wake your attacker so badly?

There’s something we’re not seeing. That the chill in Kaito’s gut wouldn’t go away was enough to tell him that. This veilwalker... There’s something bigger than her at work here. If we can’t talk to her, we might never know what.

Grandfather let out an explosive breath. This isn’t an argument I’m going to win, is it? Please tell me you’re not doing this because she’s a woman. If you’re so desperate for one who can match you, I’ll write to the other villages. I’m sure they can provide.

Kaito put a hand to his forehead, to the crusted blood Grandfather was gesturing to. It had been years since anyone in Root, man or woman, had put a scratch on him.

It’s nothing to do with that, he said firmly, putting his hand back on his knee. He thought of the veilwalker woman, now so profoundly unconscious. She’d been fleeing, for the Spirit knew how long, entirely unequipped and unarmed save for a handful of hastily constructed knives. We need to know what’s going on.

I know, I know. Something in your gut, isn’t it? I wouldn’t let you do this if I didn’t feel it too.

Kaito got to his feet, knowing he was dismissed. He was at the door when Grandfather called him back. If you do this, he said slowly, the consequences must be on your shoulders. In the eyes of the village, you will be responsible for them, your attacker and Sabara both. Do you understand?

Kaito nodded and left the room, trying not to feel that he’d just dug himself a bottomless pit and dived in head first.

Chapter Two

Jin studied the metal hook dangling from his finger. It was a shoddy piece of work, by all accounts; the same could be said for the half dozen similar items at his feet. The pitons, the caltrops, the throwing stars, the grappling hook. Jin flipped a piton over with his toe. The spike was supposed to be long, slender and sturdy, but there was a distinct bend to it near the tip. He tried to straighten it with the weight of his heel, but only managed to squash it further out of shape.

Master Kaito was of the opinion that veilwalkers should learn to make and maintain their own tools – all save their sword, which was a more specialised trade altogether. That was all very well, but Jin had repeatedly proved himself inept at even the most basic veilwalker skills; making pitons and the like had been no exception. For the son of two of Root’s greatest veilwalkers, he was peculiarly useless at their trade.

Which was why he stood before this wall, in one of Root’s deeper caverns. It had been smoothed by generations of climbers and was supposed to be used for the training of more experienced veilwalkers, which Jin most definitely was not. Every time he considered walking away, though, Jin thought of Master Kaito’s face. Around Jin, he always pulled an expression halfway between pity and exasperation. Neither of them wanted to be master and student: Kaito didn’t want to be anyone’s teacher, and Jin… Well, Jin wasn’t sure he wanted to be a veilwalker at all.

He looked back at the wall. There was a crevice halfway up, where his grappling hook needed to catch and hold. The hook suddenly seemed even flimsier than before, and the wall even higher. Jin swallowed, brought to mind Kaito’s ‘this is a waste of time and I think we should just go home’ face, and threw the grappling hook.

It missed entirely the first few times, skittering off the rock and clattering to the ground. On the seventh throw, the hook skidded past the crevice, catching for just a moment before plummeting again. Jin flexed his shoulders. He thought he had the measure of the distance now. Once more…

It took four more tries for the hook to fix in the crevice. Jin tugged on the rope, leaning back with all his weight. It held rather more firmly than he’d anticipated. With a feeling of deep apprehension, and a swift prayer to the Grey Spirit, Jin started to climb.

He was halfway up, with his toes jammed into a tiny nook and his hands white around the rope, when he decided he didn’t much like heights. He’d climbed almost to the crevice itself when he realised he definitely didn’t like heights, but he wasn’t sure his arms had the strength to lower him back down. In fact, he wasn’t sure how much longer they could hold him at all.

It wasn’t fear that struck Jin when the grappling hook began to shift, but rather a sinking in his stomach. He’d somehow known, as he always did, that this latest endeavour would go horribly wrong. Now, as the hook inched free of the crevice, he had more than enough confirmation.

He started to reach for the hook, intending to push it deeper into the rock, only to realise he could no longer hold himself with one hand. His feet were barely taking his weight, and even they were trembling. His arms seemed to have locked themselves into position, the slightest movement causing red-hot agony. At least they still held, and it wasn’t going to be his strength that failed him. The grappling hook – which was actually bending under his weight – would give out long before that.

Jin? Are you okay?

Jin almost screamed in relief at the shout from below. Until sheer humiliation took over, and he realised he wasn’t going to die after all. He was going to be rescued. By Midari.

I’m fine, he called back, cursing himself even as he spoke. He wasn’t fine, not even slightly, so why had he said that?

Midari ignored that entirely, as Jin should have known she would. Hold on, she called. I’m coming up.

Jin opened his mouth to shout a warning about the precarious state of the grappling hook, but Midari was already climbing, with such ease she barely needed the rope at all. A few feet below him, she stopped to hammer something into a crack in the rock. A moment later, Jin felt her hand on his ankle, guiding his foot into place.

Put your weight on that, she instructed. It’ll hold.

Jin did as he was told. A second support was wedged into place, and his other foot manoeuvred onto it. After that he could lean against the cool stone, breathing deep its smell of damp and earth, and let the blood rush back into his tingling arms.

They barely spoke as Midari helped him down. At the bottom, he lay on the floor, gasping and shivering, as Midari loosened the grappling hook and neatly caught it. She examined it for some time, running her fingers over the bent and mangled spines.

Who made this? she said, suppressed anger in her voice. You shouldn’t have been allowed to climb with this. The metal is too thin and–

I did, Jin said wearily, closing his eyes. Better to get it out now before Midari went all blacksmith’s daughter and launched into a full explanation of his deficiencies.

Midari went quiet. When Jin opened his eyes, she was kneeling, looking otherworldly by the light of the single lantern beside them. Odd physical attributes were part and parcel of being born with a veilwalker’s trait – Master Kaito’s white hair was the most obvious in the village – but Midari’s honey-coloured hair and peculiarly red eyes were some of the strangest.

Oh, she said softly. Was that Kaito’s idea?

Jin nodded and propped himself up on one elbow to hand her a selection of tools. She turned them over critically. Your stars are too uneven to throw straight. These caltrops are too weak to ever pierce the bottom of a shoe. And your pitons… She picked one up and the metal visibly drooped in her hand. Even Midari couldn’t stifle a laugh at that. Oh, Jin. Why didn’t you ask me for help?

They both knew the answer. Midari was a prodigy, just like Master Kaito, and just like Jin’s parents. In fact, when he looked around, the whole village seemed to be swarming with them. But he… He just wasn’t cut out to be a veilwalker, and he was fed up of asking for help.

You’re better than this, Jin. You’ve been training as many years as I have – you shouldn't have struggled so much up there, even with these tools. Midari wouldn’t look at him as she spoke. Is this… is this about your trait?

Jin wanted to roll over, to turn his back on the world, but that would have been childish. He stared at the gloomy ceiling of the cavern instead. It has nothing to do with that, he said evenly.

Except that was a lie, and Midari had to know it. His lack of a trait, the key attribute to define a veilwalker, wasn’t the only reason he was so uncertain about his path in life, but it also didn’t help.

How did you know I was here? he asked, trying to change the subject.

I asked Kade, Midari replied. Kade, with his trait that allowed him to know where people were, friends and enemies alike. And Midari, with one of the most powerful traits Root had ever known, showing her people’s weaknesses as if she read them from a scroll. Perhaps that included his own.

Your trait will come to you, Midari went on. These things don’t happen overnight.

No, but most veilwalkers had discovered their unique ability by the time they were thirteen, and Jin was four years past that. Midari was so certain he’d find his trait, that he’d be a great veilwalker… But what if he didn’t, and what if he never was?

***

They were sitting outside a food stall, beside one of several lantern-lit streams that criss-crossed Root’s internal halls, when his father’s henchman found them. Well, perhaps henchman was a bit harsh – Jin had known the man all his life, and they’d trained together as he was growing up – but that was how Midari saw him.

Your father needs to learn to leave you alone, she muttered, into her cup of flavoured ice.

Not a chance, Jin replied, but of course there was a chance. When he finally discovered his trait, his father would be quite happy to leave him to his own devices.

What is it this time? he said, louder, to the approaching man.

The henchman stopped a few paces away, looking deeply unhappy. Tremors of alarm went off in Jin’s skull – he’d never seen the man look so… distressed.

Your father needs to see you, he said. He…

Has yet another way to awaken my trait? Jin suggested.

The man looked away, but Jin could see he was right. With a mental shrug, he said goodbye to Midari and set off, winding his way through corridors and stairways he knew as well as his own hands.

The Mizuno family home was in one of Root’s highest levels, and spanned three storeys in a jumbled collection of rooms and entrances. It had views over the village and hidden passages into the farmland above Root – a prestigious dwelling, all told, and thus suitable for the Great Hideo of Root and Earth.

Jin’s father was, quite simply, a legend in their own village and those nearby. He’d defended Root from an attack by Iron thirty years ago, when the village was suffering from an outbreak of disease and there were only a handful of healthy defenders left to fight. His martial skill and tactical abilities had won the day – and that was before his trait of prodigious strength even entered the equation – fighting off three waves of attackers before reinforcements from an allied village could arrive.

And Jin’s mother had been beside him, using her gift of exceptional sight, far more powerful than any other known in the village. Now, though, they were officially retired, and whilst his mother spent her time tending the family’s fields or visiting elderly relatives, Hideo seemed to exist purely to make Jin’s life a misery.

Hideo was waiting in their main reception room, looking out of the arched window, hands behind his back. For one of the greatest veilwalkers to have ever served Root, Jin always thought his father looked more like a White Blade: short and stocky, with too-big hands, the backs of which sprouted a profusion of black hairs. He liked to talk about honour, too, and family lineages, things that weren’t usually of much importance to veilwalkers. But he was fast, and could be cunning when he wanted to be, as Jin had found out too many times.

There you are. Were you with Midari again?

Jin nodded and favoured his father with a bow.

Hideo paid no attention to the pleasantries. Good. She can teach you a lot, that one. In other circumstances, Jin’s father would have disliked him associating with the daughter of a blacksmith, but Midari’s precocious veilwalker skill – and her powerful trait – were well known, which meant she was a fitting companion for the Mizuno heir.

I’ve been thinking about your trait. Hideo moved away from the window, rubbing his hands one over the other, with a sound like rustling paper. We’ve tried a lot of things, Jin, but nothing has come close.

Jin’s heart thumped in his ears. Yes, they had tried a lot of things: everything from starving him for three days, to feeding him hallucinogens, to consulting the Maanim seer whom Master Kaito was friendly with. Nothing worked. Was his father about to say it was time to give up?

I think there are more drastic measures we might take.

Jin’s heart didn’t slow. Drastic?

I’ve spoken to your mother about this, and asked permission of Grandfather. We’re safe to proceed.

Panic fluttered in Jin’s chest. Proceed with what? Father?

There was a moment of tense silence, before a pair of hands took each of Jin’s arms. One belonged to the henchman from earlier, and the other to one of his colleagues. Jin’s mouth flapped uselessly as they steered him from the room and down into the lower levels of the house.

Jin knew at once where they were going. There was a storeroom that as a child had scared him, and even now filled him with unease. It was carved into the rock just like the rest of Root, but it was damper, and colder, and darker. The shadows clustered more heavily in its corners, only partly obscuring stains Jin had always thought looked a lot like blood.

Which was ridiculous, of course. There was every chance his father had tortured people to extract information, but he wouldn’t have done it at home, or even in the village. This storeroom was just like any other, and it was only his own childhood nightmares that had given it significance.

Until now.

A trough had been dragged into the middle of the room, the sort of thing you’d use to water animals; indeed, its stone sides were streaked with moss and bird shit, as if it had recently been used for just that. The water filling it was black as a moonless night, and just as still.

What… is… this? Jin’s words came out in jerks, as if he was deathly cold.

I’m sorry to have to do this. His father walked to the far side of the trough, leaning to rest his palms on its rim. But it’s as I said: drastic measures.

Jin’s feet dragged on the floor, but the henchmen holding him up were inexorable. They moved to the trough, slowly, ever so slowly, and Jin felt a scream building in his throat. It never quite made it to his lips. Suddenly his face was an inch from the inky water, his hair tickling the surface. All sound was choked from him.

He hung that way for several heartbeats before he began to struggle. Terror gave his limbs a strength they’d never possessed before. One of the henchmen grunted as he got an elbow to the stomach. The other tried to tighten his grip, but Jin spun away, drawing a knife from its sheath on his thigh. It rested cool along his palm, poised and ready to throw–

Stop! His father’s voice was a bell ringing in the enclosed space. Jin winced and backed against a wall, shaking the sound from his head. Put that down.

Jin did as he was told, although it was impossible to stop his free hand drifting to the sheath on his other side.

Hideo looked deeply exasperated. We wouldn’t have actually done it. He pointed to the water, which hadn’t so much as quivered. It was just to scare you.

He began to ask the henchmen if they’d felt anything different, if there was any hint his son’s trait might have been awakened. He was cut off by the explosion of Jin’s anger.

You were trying to scare my trait out of me? The words came out in a panted rush as fear gave way to rage. "By threatening to drown me?"

His father circled the trough with measured steps. No matter how stocky he was, or how much Jin grew, Hideo always seemed to be a little taller. Many veilwalkers’ traits first manifest in times of stress, he said evenly. But you’re simply not exposed to situations of that kind. Root’s peace is a wonderful thing, but it’s not going to help you grow as a veilwalker. It's time you felt a bit of fear.

Jin’s mouth gaped like an air-drowning fish. That was… His father was…

I know what you’re thinking. Hideo’s calmness hadn’t shifted. You think I’m a monster for doing this to you. No father should ever put his son through something like this. But what you don’t understand, Jin, is this is for your own good. No veilwalker can operate without a trait. If yours doesn’t show itself, you’ll be killed in the first action you see. I’m trying to keep you alive.

Maybe I don’t want to be a veilwalker, Jin thought, but even now he couldn’t find the will to say those words. By almost drowning me?

Now his father looked disappointed. I told you – we wouldn’t have put you in there. It was a ruse.

A ruse. You can’t manifest my trait the same way you saved the village. Tricks aren’t going to work this time.

No, I can see that. You know what that brings us back to, though. What I’ve been telling you all this time.

Jin closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, ready for what was coming.

It’s all about hard work, his father went on. If you’d just apply yourself, none of this would be necessary. I’m sure your trait would show itself–

No, it wouldn’t. It’s not going to. An icy calm descended over Jin. He opened his eyes, and didn’t even flinch at his father’s glare. I don’t have a trait – it’s that simple – and I could be a much better veilwalker if you just left me to it. I’m already training as hard as I can.

That wasn’t true, not really. He’d never tried his very hardest, because he’d always been afraid it wouldn’t be quite enough. Even at his best, he still might fail.

Hideo leaned away, as if what he saw disgusted him. And who’s going to train you? I will take no student without a trait.

Master Kaito is already training me. I’m the only student he’s ever taken, so he must think–

Pah. His father spat on the floor, interrupting Jin’s impending tirade. Kaito only took you on because I asked him to. I thought it might help. Apparently, I was wrong.

Jin tried not to let that get to him. To have his suspicions – that Master Kaito didn’t really want a student – confirmed hardly mattered, when his lessons had always been considered and constructive anyway. They trained well together, or so Jin had always thought.

And what about when Kaito isn’t here? His father wasn’t finished. No veilwalker learns from a single master. Who else will take you?

Jin opened his mouth to reply, but Hideo kept on, There’s no-one. No-one at all. They’ll train you now because you’re my son, and because you might still develop a trait. But if you don’t, that’ll be the end.

Tell him you don’t care. You don’t want to be a veilwalker. Tell him. But the words wouldn’t come. In all truth, Jin didn’t know what he wanted, and his father wasn’t helping matters. He took a step towards the door, which his father mirrored.

Where are you going?

I have training tonight. If you want me to prove myself, keeping me here isn’t going to help.

His father gave a grunted laugh. Kaito isn’t even in the village. He’ll be gone until the turn of the moon. He didn’t tell you, I take it?

There was a spike in Jin’s chest that felt remarkably like betrayal. He’d missed training occasionally, but Master Kaito had never forgotten a session, had even come looking for him once or twice. But now… Perhaps he was losing faith in Jin, too. Everyone else had long since done so.

Then I’ll train with Midari, Jin said, his voice sounding distant. Let me pass.

Hideo turned around to speak to his henchmen and Jin left the room, his heart feeling like lead. His father wouldn’t try to develop his trait again, not after this. And if Master Kaito really had abandoned him…

It was strange, really. The possibility he would never be a veilwalker should have been a relief, but the weight in Jin’s chest only seemed to grow, until he felt as if he could sink into the ground and let the cold, dark stone swallow him up.

Chapter Three

Kaito shielded his eyes with one hand, cutting a thin line of shadow across his face. Grit trickled into his left sandal, and somehow traced a line down his back. After three days of travel he was hot and tired, and prolonged use of his trait left him aching as though he’d been beaten, but his concentration never wavered. There, half hidden by heat haze, was his destination.

The masts rising from the desert floor could have been desiccated trees, but Kaito knew they were in fact the remains of ships. The hulls were still attached,