Ch. 1

 

   Whispers in the night,

Dragon breathes his dark fire.

Silent autumn wind.

 

 

 

 

            They came as the shadows that filled her room, swift and silent and many. They reeked of the stench of war. With them, they brought their oppression, their anger and their hate; their savage and raw, unbridled hate. While all the land slept beneath the midnight sun, they seeped into their homes like toxic fumes.

            In her room, she tossed and turned under the pain of her dream. Then suddenly she woke. A noise outside? Some one outside? Surely Yuki would have done something, barked. But what if…

A ghastly thought crossed her mind, what if they were here. What if they killed Yuki! She leapt out of bed, careful not to make a noise. Upon her wall of weapons hung her favorite bow. Such a primitive weapon, but she preferred it to a gun. She never saw much honor in hiding behind a machine. She grabbed it and ran to the door. With a sharp and quick gasp of icy air, she stood with her hand poised, ready to fling the door open at any sound. The slightest creaking of the house beams under the assault of gently killing autumn winds, which ripped at the oak and pine skeleton, and the softest rustle of falling leaves whispered around her as she waited. With one eye on her window and the other on the door, she waited and counted her thundering heart- beats. There! Whispers, soft and in another language. Korean.

It was them, she knew it for she knew this language. Her master spoke it almost every day at the Dojang. She her self needed to know a few words. But how could they be here so soon? The war started only two days ago. Two days. That was all, and that was more than enough.

 Footsteps started up the stairs, which moaned under the weight of each evil footfall. He’s coming. She began to think of her friends, and family, where were they? God, are they ok? Fueled by newfound rage and recklessness, she flung the door open and its old hinges whined. The dark figure turned and for once his reflexes were too slow. The arrow hit, straight through his neck. Clean and perfect. She hurtled the body and raced for the hall. Below she heard the men as they laughed their pig laughs at secret jokes in their guttural language. So unaware of the death above them, waiting like a spider in her web. She thought to her self how different they were from her masters. Park and Lee were nothing like them. North Korea was so alien, another planet. For an infinity of minutes she waited, almost a life time it seemed, before another man dared to ascend the dark, forbidding stair way. Come, she thought, you pigs…come.

            Two more arrows stingingly hit their mark as two men ventured up. These did not go so quietly. Chaos, commotion, all hell broke loose in the shadow steeped bowels below. More men came, from windows and doors. She ran down the hall and followed their twists and turns, up and up she went, her ascent into heaven. Though all was veiled in blackness, she knew where to go in this huge and monstrous old house. Two of them? She yelled in her mind, Two? I only heard one set of feet! Yet there was no time for that now, she had to run.

            “ Behind you!” a voice called, it was so relieving to her words she could understand.

“ I know!” she answered, though she did not know to whom she spoke. Am I answering myself? She thought. She turned to face her nemeses, expecting her own death to come quick and hard. Yet they all fell at an unseen hand. Bewilderment replaced her rage, and she stood motionless. The thick, black air of the hall soon became too heavy. In the sudden silence she heard footsteps, soft and hardly audible, but clear. Now, she thought, after this last step he’ll be close. Close enough to kill.

            In a whirl of deadly wind she turned and held her ivory knife, which she always kept under her silk pillow, at his throat. She did not notice the katana, which he held at her heart, poised, ready and itching to taste flesh. Through the shadow-laden hall, a faint ray of cold light fell upon his eyes. They were made of cold, unforgiving coal. In them there was a ray of gray, doleful light that veiled a deep and penetrating anger. Vengeance. They gleamed from behind their slanted lids.

            “ Who are you?” he barked sharply. His voice sent shivers down her soul. Such coldness. God she was so cold! Standing there beneath his gaze, it was as if she were naked in Alaskan tundra. “ Who are you?” came his voice, more urgent and irritated. She opened her mouth to speak, but the coldness froze her tongue. “ Damn you!” he screamed; yet his scream was not a scream at all. She felt the intense emotion behind it, as if he were screaming bloody murder, yet he only spoke in whispers.

            “ I…I own this house…” her voice trailed off and seemed to echo down the hall as if her words were yelled from a mountain- top, and she listened to them resound in her mind. I own this house. A long silence passed before she became fully cognizant of all that was happening around her, of all that had happened and all that soon would.

“ Who are you?” she asked, her voice gaining authority. “ Why are you here? To kill me? Is that it? Then do it! God damn it!” she became defensive, convinced by his features that he was one of them.

“ I am not Korean, not North, nor am I South. I come from a small place in Kyoto, Japan.”

“ You could still work for them!”

“ But I don’t!” they were circling each other instinctively, eying one another, assessing each other’s power. His katana rested at his side, a shimmering silver snake waiting to strike.

She held an arrow loosely to her bow.

“ Then why are you here?” she asked.

“ I saw them entering houses. One leader entered this one, so I followed. I am part of a secret rebellious organization called Whispers. All Martial Artists of all ranks, all ages, and all skill levels from the adroit to the mediocre. All are proving their medal as Warriors. This war cannot be fought with the military alone, they need assistance where it counts most, among the people.” He relaxed his katana, and she her bow.

            “ Whispers?” she asked, and looked down at her bare feet. She had stepped in a thick, warm fluid. Blood. A sound came from one of the men. It was his radio. “ What’s it say?” she asked.

“ I don’t know. I don’t speak this language.”

“ What? Korean?”

“ No.” He bent down and held his ear to the man’s chest. “ It is no language of Earth. Almost not…human.”

“ It, it could be…African? They have so many languages.”

“ No…” he stood up, “ we have to get out of here. Now!” He grabbed her arm and led her to a window. “ Jump.” He said.

“ What?”

“ JUMP!” Down they fell, from the highest window of the four-story house, the night air cutting their flesh and burning their eyes. He held a hand over her mouth to stifle her screams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

This is a story I am working on, it is in need of much editing and is no where near being finished. Any and all reviews are welcome and your critiques would be most helpful.