[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Yasuma. The Americans are a race of mongrels! How dare you speak of them so? I long for the day
when we can kill them all."
The men froze in surprise. They had sworn to put the old animosities aside, and for weeks no one had
dared to speak of the past. For more than one of them, it was no longer simply a question of orders.
Both sides were starting to establish friendships with their former enemies.
Saito jumped to his feet and screamed, "Attention!"
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Instantly every man was on his feet rigidly staring straight ahead.
Saito, as senior man present, walked over to Nobuaki and slapped him across the face. "You are the
one who is unworthy. You disobey both Lord Allic and Captain Ikawa." And he slapped him again.
"You will this instant come with me to Pina's quarters and repeat your statement to him."
After they left the room the other Japanese stared silently at one another, torn by conflicting loyalties.
"Would anyone else like to try a game of go," Takeo said quietly, trying to break the tension. His
question was greeted by silence as the others retreated into their own thoughts.
Takeo sat alone in the corner of the room.
I wish Imada were here,he thought sadly, wondering how his friend was and what he was doing out on
patrol.
"I tell you, Imada, you trust him far too much. You're just like that fool friend of yours Takeo, always
trusting what Ikawa and Saito say."
"Why shouldn't I? He's the officer," Imada replied defensively, turning in the saddle to look towards his
companion. "Anyhow, he got us out of that scrap with the Chinese, didn't he?"
"Got us out of the scrap, is it? What do you call where we are now?" Yoshida said sarcastically. "How
will we ever see our families again?"
Imada fell silent, lost in sad reflections. Yoshida was right. There was a war back home. What of his
mother and his sister in Tokyo?
"But Ikawa knows what he's doing."
"Knows what he's doing," Yoshida barked. "Trusting Americans? Do you call that honorable, or even
sensible, to trust our enemies?"
Imada was silent.
"He trusts the Americans." Yoshida drew his mount closer. "He trusts these people as well."
"Just look at them," Yoshida whispered, nodding towards the half dozen men riding across the open
steppe ahead of them. "Do you see any like us? No! I see only people who look like Westerners."
"But I've seen no Westerners or black men, or Orientals, either," Imada replied. "It seems like all the
races were blended here to form one."
"But do you see any like us--any of the divine race of the sun?"
Imada shook his head.
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"There, that proves it then," Yoshida said, as if he had presented an unshakable argument. "We are alone
here, surrounded by enemies, and our own leader has sold us out."
Imada couldn't reply. Unlike the world he had left, this one at least did not seem to be driven by any
racial hatreds. If there was illogical hatred, it seemed to be fueled by who followed which god or
demigod.
They rode in silence for some minutes. After nearly a week out, Imada was finally getting used to being
mounted. He would have preferred to fly like the single sorcerer who hovered above them as air
protection, but he knew that riding was part of their training. Air patrols might be more fun, but the only
way to really patrol a border was by mounted units which could see every detail of the land up close and
spot a track or sign missed by someone only a dozen feet above.
The mounted patrol crested a low hill and halted. The flankers, far to either side, rode in to join the rest
of the group.
"The Golka Springs." Urba, the group leader, pointed towards a virtual garden, blooming in the middle
of ocean-like steppes.
The oasis was tucked into a narrow fold of land, and its warm scent beckoned to them. It was a smell
heavy with the promise of water, flowers, and quiet repose.
The Tab needed no urging. The sweetness of the spring water was known to them, and they were eager
to reach it.
"We'll camp here tonight," Urba announced, "and start back for home tomorrow."
The Tals went straight to the nearest pool of water, and were drinking even before their human
companions had dismounted.
Imada felt that he was walking in a dream. The oasis was a riot of blooms that completely covered the
ground and coiled overhead, hanging down from the branches of the trees, forming a cooling canopy of
shade.
The shadows of evening had long drifted into the mantle of night. Yoshida had the first watch, and the
rest of the patrol was already asleep. But the seductive beauty of the oasis would not let Imada rest. He
could remember the scent of the courtyard garden at home in the spring. He could remember sitting in the
moonlight, dreaming of what he would be when school was done, dreaming of having a lover to sit beside
him in the evening stillness.
Rising from his blanket roll, Imada slipped out of the encampment. Yoshida barely nodded to him as he
walked into the darkness. The sound of running water attracted him, and he pushed through a sea of
flowers to the edge of a small pool fed by a tiny waterfall that cascaded down from another pool above.
The pool glowed with a soft phosphorescent shimmer that seemed magical. The night air was warm, each
breath a delicious joy.
Slipping off his clothes, Imada stepped into the pool. To his surprise it was not cold but warm, as if
heated. Lazily he floated out. Lifting his arm out of the water he laughed with amazement as the
shimmering water rolled oft him, as though light had turned liquid.
For what seemed eternity, Imada drifted, letting the warmth wash away his fears, his memories.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
A hand touched his shoulder.
He turned, splashing, ready to cry out. A girl floated beside him, her head above the water.
"It is said that the Golka springs," she whispered, "can enchant until all sad memories drift away, like
snow melted by the morning sun."
She drew closer to him, and before he even realized it, her lips brushed against his. Then, laughing softly,
she pushed away.
She was the most beautiful woman Imada had ever seen, and her red hair floated around her like a
darkened halo. He wanted to ask who she was, why she was there, but he almost feared that if he
spoke, she would disappear.
Her face shimmered in the pool's soft phosphorescence, and her dark eyes smiled at him. His gaze
lowered and he saw that she was as naked as he.
She drew closer, and this time her arms drifted around him.
Smiling, she kissed him again, with a searching passion that made the blood pound in his ears. Imada had
been too embarrassed to join in the parties back at the castle; he had wanted things to be different. And
now this mystery, who had seemed to drift to him out of a dream, coiled her body about his.
He felt the sandy bottom beneath his feet as the two of them stood chest deep in the water, locked in
passionate embrace.
Her hands drifted down his arm, her lips slipped away from his for a moment, and he saw the wristband
holding his protective crystal drop into the water.
For the first time he spoke to her. "You shouldn't," he whispered. "I've been told that I should never take
it off."
"To protect yourself from me?" she asked innocently, and she leaned forward again, kissing him eagerly,
her body pressed up against his.
Imada heard a muffled cry in the distance. He tried to turn his head but she held him locked in her
embrace. His passion almost drove him to ignore the distant shout, but there was another, closer, a
scream of pain.
He struggled to pull away from his enchantress. He couldn't tell if she was responding in passion or if in
fact she was struggling to hold him.
There was a flash to one side, another scream, and then an entire series of flashes.
Wild with panic he looked into her eyes. He could see the passion but there was a look of bemusement,
too. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Yasuma. The Americans are a race of mongrels! How dare you speak of them so? I long for the day
when we can kill them all."
The men froze in surprise. They had sworn to put the old animosities aside, and for weeks no one had
dared to speak of the past. For more than one of them, it was no longer simply a question of orders.
Both sides were starting to establish friendships with their former enemies.
Saito jumped to his feet and screamed, "Attention!"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Instantly every man was on his feet rigidly staring straight ahead.
Saito, as senior man present, walked over to Nobuaki and slapped him across the face. "You are the
one who is unworthy. You disobey both Lord Allic and Captain Ikawa." And he slapped him again.
"You will this instant come with me to Pina's quarters and repeat your statement to him."
After they left the room the other Japanese stared silently at one another, torn by conflicting loyalties.
"Would anyone else like to try a game of go," Takeo said quietly, trying to break the tension. His
question was greeted by silence as the others retreated into their own thoughts.
Takeo sat alone in the corner of the room.
I wish Imada were here,he thought sadly, wondering how his friend was and what he was doing out on
patrol.
"I tell you, Imada, you trust him far too much. You're just like that fool friend of yours Takeo, always
trusting what Ikawa and Saito say."
"Why shouldn't I? He's the officer," Imada replied defensively, turning in the saddle to look towards his
companion. "Anyhow, he got us out of that scrap with the Chinese, didn't he?"
"Got us out of the scrap, is it? What do you call where we are now?" Yoshida said sarcastically. "How
will we ever see our families again?"
Imada fell silent, lost in sad reflections. Yoshida was right. There was a war back home. What of his
mother and his sister in Tokyo?
"But Ikawa knows what he's doing."
"Knows what he's doing," Yoshida barked. "Trusting Americans? Do you call that honorable, or even
sensible, to trust our enemies?"
Imada was silent.
"He trusts the Americans." Yoshida drew his mount closer. "He trusts these people as well."
"Just look at them," Yoshida whispered, nodding towards the half dozen men riding across the open
steppe ahead of them. "Do you see any like us? No! I see only people who look like Westerners."
"But I've seen no Westerners or black men, or Orientals, either," Imada replied. "It seems like all the
races were blended here to form one."
"But do you see any like us--any of the divine race of the sun?"
Imada shook his head.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"There, that proves it then," Yoshida said, as if he had presented an unshakable argument. "We are alone
here, surrounded by enemies, and our own leader has sold us out."
Imada couldn't reply. Unlike the world he had left, this one at least did not seem to be driven by any
racial hatreds. If there was illogical hatred, it seemed to be fueled by who followed which god or
demigod.
They rode in silence for some minutes. After nearly a week out, Imada was finally getting used to being
mounted. He would have preferred to fly like the single sorcerer who hovered above them as air
protection, but he knew that riding was part of their training. Air patrols might be more fun, but the only
way to really patrol a border was by mounted units which could see every detail of the land up close and
spot a track or sign missed by someone only a dozen feet above.
The mounted patrol crested a low hill and halted. The flankers, far to either side, rode in to join the rest
of the group.
"The Golka Springs." Urba, the group leader, pointed towards a virtual garden, blooming in the middle
of ocean-like steppes.
The oasis was tucked into a narrow fold of land, and its warm scent beckoned to them. It was a smell
heavy with the promise of water, flowers, and quiet repose.
The Tab needed no urging. The sweetness of the spring water was known to them, and they were eager
to reach it.
"We'll camp here tonight," Urba announced, "and start back for home tomorrow."
The Tals went straight to the nearest pool of water, and were drinking even before their human
companions had dismounted.
Imada felt that he was walking in a dream. The oasis was a riot of blooms that completely covered the
ground and coiled overhead, hanging down from the branches of the trees, forming a cooling canopy of
shade.
The shadows of evening had long drifted into the mantle of night. Yoshida had the first watch, and the
rest of the patrol was already asleep. But the seductive beauty of the oasis would not let Imada rest. He
could remember the scent of the courtyard garden at home in the spring. He could remember sitting in the
moonlight, dreaming of what he would be when school was done, dreaming of having a lover to sit beside
him in the evening stillness.
Rising from his blanket roll, Imada slipped out of the encampment. Yoshida barely nodded to him as he
walked into the darkness. The sound of running water attracted him, and he pushed through a sea of
flowers to the edge of a small pool fed by a tiny waterfall that cascaded down from another pool above.
The pool glowed with a soft phosphorescent shimmer that seemed magical. The night air was warm, each
breath a delicious joy.
Slipping off his clothes, Imada stepped into the pool. To his surprise it was not cold but warm, as if
heated. Lazily he floated out. Lifting his arm out of the water he laughed with amazement as the
shimmering water rolled oft him, as though light had turned liquid.
For what seemed eternity, Imada drifted, letting the warmth wash away his fears, his memories.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
A hand touched his shoulder.
He turned, splashing, ready to cry out. A girl floated beside him, her head above the water.
"It is said that the Golka springs," she whispered, "can enchant until all sad memories drift away, like
snow melted by the morning sun."
She drew closer to him, and before he even realized it, her lips brushed against his. Then, laughing softly,
she pushed away.
She was the most beautiful woman Imada had ever seen, and her red hair floated around her like a
darkened halo. He wanted to ask who she was, why she was there, but he almost feared that if he
spoke, she would disappear.
Her face shimmered in the pool's soft phosphorescence, and her dark eyes smiled at him. His gaze
lowered and he saw that she was as naked as he.
She drew closer, and this time her arms drifted around him.
Smiling, she kissed him again, with a searching passion that made the blood pound in his ears. Imada had
been too embarrassed to join in the parties back at the castle; he had wanted things to be different. And
now this mystery, who had seemed to drift to him out of a dream, coiled her body about his.
He felt the sandy bottom beneath his feet as the two of them stood chest deep in the water, locked in
passionate embrace.
Her hands drifted down his arm, her lips slipped away from his for a moment, and he saw the wristband
holding his protective crystal drop into the water.
For the first time he spoke to her. "You shouldn't," he whispered. "I've been told that I should never take
it off."
"To protect yourself from me?" she asked innocently, and she leaned forward again, kissing him eagerly,
her body pressed up against his.
Imada heard a muffled cry in the distance. He tried to turn his head but she held him locked in her
embrace. His passion almost drove him to ignore the distant shout, but there was another, closer, a
scream of pain.
He struggled to pull away from his enchantress. He couldn't tell if she was responding in passion or if in
fact she was struggling to hold him.
There was a flash to one side, another scream, and then an entire series of flashes.
Wild with panic he looked into her eyes. He could see the passion but there was a look of bemusement,
too. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]