Erik Otto - Detonation

Talon tried to find some flaw in Nobura’s argument, but could think of none. “I see,” he replied.

Nobura had cut his venison into tiny squares, perfectly bite sized. He took his first bite with a two-pronged fork. Meanwhile Talon was down to the last large morsel of venison. He was holding it with his bare hands as the juices dripped down his wrist.

“Are you enjoying the pilgrimage?” Nobura asked after a moment of silence. He only briefly glanced up from his meal to pose the question.

Talon considered giving him the canned response—some well-worn statement about sun, soil and seed—but then decided against it. Better to tell Nobura the truth. Perhaps it would change Nobura’s mind about enrolling him as a pupil.

“I don’t see why we need to travel all this way to an Old World ruin. We’re Essentialists and yet we aren’t foraging here. We aren’t even hunting for our town. And all our lives the curator has taught us not to set foot in any Old World cesspool. Why should a pilgrimage be any different? It seems hypocritical.”

Nobura seemed insensitive to the comment, which by most would be considered disloyal and even blasphemous. He simply continued to eat his meal with great care, like it was a surgical undertaking. “Being true to the earth does not mean being ignorant of the ways of the Old World,” he said. “As the curator says, to be a devout Essentialist is to understand not only what is necessary and good, but also what is wanton and malevolent. Here we understand what happened during the time of the Detonation. In other words, we understand what was wanton and malevolent.”

Talon’s brow furrowed. It was frustrating that he was unable to rouse Nobura’s ire. “I still don’t see the need for us to travel all this way. The books are enough.”

“Even the statue?” Nobura asked. “Clay’s Colossus is not in a book—it is not of the Old World—it is not part of this cesspool, as you call it. Is that not of interest?”

Talon was indeed curious about the statue, but it was going to take an entire extra day—a day that he didn’t have. And he knew it was probably just another frayed monument, just like the Old World buildings they’d seen today. “I know the statue is supposed to make some kind of impression on me, but it’s just an old statue made of stone. Sure, maybe it’s artfully crafted, but it’s still just stone—just like the stones littered about this hamlet, or like a boulder that has fallen off a mountain. Grand Caverns has many interesting rock formations. I can find enough of those at home.”

Nobura raised his thin eyebrows. His attention had left his meal and was now wholly on Talon. “Some old statue? A statue is not just a statue, and stone is not just stone. From it you can learn much. In fact, even though I have not been on this pilgrimage, I have seen this statue. It is visible from the hills west of here. That should tell you something.”

Out of the corner of his eye Talon saw Greystone and Redfern stand up. They looked to be preparing to leave the circle. They began walking away toward the cabins, Summerwind girls in tow. It would be best to get away from the table soon, while they were distracted.

“I don’t get it. What should it tell me?” Talon said, his leg shaking. He hurried to chew and swallow the last sweet potato skin left on his plate.

Nobura was watching him carefully. He had followed Talon’s eyes to the table where Greystone and Redfern had been eating. He said, “for one, the fact that I have seen the statue should tell you about its size. It is visible from far away. In turn its size should tell you about the effort put forth by Clay Ripplewood and the other Essentialist ancestors who built it. The effort put into a thing tells you much about its meaning.”

“I should go,” Talon said, collecting his plate and standing up.

Nobura said, “patience.”

Talon considered just walking away, but Nobura was a captain and would soon be his teacher. It wouldn’t sit well to offend him, and their conversation had been abrasive enough as it was. Talon tried to calm himself and sit back down. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Patience,” Nobura said again.

“I know. I heard you. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You heard me, but you misunderstand me. You can go, if you like. I was not asking you to stay and sit with me. I was suggesting you learn patience, so that you can better understand the pilgrimage. Without it, you will take away nothing.”

Talon frowned. “Why should I be patient? I have to get home. My family needs me.”

Nobura’s eyes narrowed even further. He turned to look into the forest for a moment, and then looked back at Talon. “I am sure that even here, far to the east among the Wood, Wind, and Water clans, you have heard stories about us Shinogi, stories of how we have overcome our enemies with ruthless violence. Many believe this is how we conquered the prefectures of my homeland, and many believe this violence has also given us our victory over the length of the great western sea as well.”

Talon nodded. It was common knowledge that the Shinogi were ruthless. Everyone had heard about them beheading the enemies of the Prefectorate.

“However, for us Shinogi, it is not violence that governs us, but rather patience. We do not wish to arrive at our destination the fastest. Our destination is fate, and fate is inevitably death. No, the key is to take every step down the path carefully, and with dignity, and to choose the correct path. Patience has given us victory more than violence, more than any other virtue.”

Nobura spread his hands as he stated his conclusion. “You would be wise to take the time necessary to ponder the significance of this pilgrimage, Talon.”

All this talk of patience only made Talon more anxious to leave. He realized the best way to break away from this man was to fawn to his beliefs. Talon gritted his teeth, nodded and said, “I will consider your words.”

Nobura only squinted in response.

Talon stood up and took his plate to the washbasin nearby. Thankfully Nobura didn’t make any more nebulous comments to lure him back. Then Talon left the center circle, walking quickly down the main thoroughfare of Pilgrim’s Way.

There were no more shadows. Day was rapidly giving away to night.

Greystone and Redfern were waiting for him on the front steps of his A-frame. Perhaps the girls had snubbed them. Or maybe they just wanted their fix. It didn’t matter now.

He shouldn’t have taken the main thoroughfare. He should have been more careful, but Nobura’s words about patience were reverberating in his mind, distracting him. As a result, he was walking too fast, and he stumbled across them too quickly, before he could spot them and sneak away.

“I think it’s time we had our little meeting,” Redfern said, wringing his hands. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

“And nobody is around to save you this time,” Greystone added, arcing around Talon like a mountain lion circling its prey.

Talon knew they would harass him until they got what they wanted. There were others on the thoroughfare—enough of them to recount the story of what happened. If they made a spectacle it might be enough to satisfy them, and then hopefully they would finally leave him alone.

His muscles tensed.

Greystone charged him first, pummeling his midsection and throwing him to the ground. Talon’s head bounced painfully against the hard earth, but otherwise he was unhurt. Talon managed to grab onto Greystone’s scraggly hair. He pounded his head on the ground, but only with enough force to look like he was trying. Greystone easily tore free from his grasp and punched Talon above his eye.

The pain washed through him, leaving him disoriented. He staggered to his knees just in time for Redfern to hit the other side of his face and knock him down again.