The Knife's Edge

Chapter Nine

A Sight to Behold

The sound of raging water filled Gray’s ears. Beyond a stand of trees he saw glimpses of rushing water. Mura quickly turned and headed towards it, and Gray dashed to catch up. He wound through the last few trees, ducked beneath a low branch and as he left the shelter of the woods, his right foot stepped out. But there was no ground to catch it. His step extended out over an abrupt ledge that spiraled down to a misty pool far below. He threw his weight backwards, groping when a strong arm clasped his own.

“Fool boy, always needing help,” Mura muttered as he pulled him back from the dangerous precipice.

“You could have told me,” Gray said, his heart still thumped inside his chest, one hand planted on the firm forest floor

Mura snorted. “Well I didn’t think you would go charging out of the woods like a blind boar! Besides I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

It was Gray’s turn to grumble as he pushed himself up, standing far back from the shelf. He brushed himself off, and for the first time, he was truly at a loss for words. The scene was suffused in light. The slim trail led to the side and onto a large rock outcropping that jutted out over the deadly drop. Far below the haze he saw a gleaming pool. His eyes followed the path upwards to the largest waterfall he had ever imagined. It flowed over a cliff arcing gently downward and then cascaded over the natural bridge, crashing against it, continuing its great descent. Furry moss covered the stones at the top of the falls, like teeth from which the mouth of the waterfall’s torrent spewed.

“What do you think?” Mura’s gruff voice was muffled by the roar of the falls.

“It’s beautiful.”

Mura laughed. “You do have such a way with words, my lad. The hermit looked at him, curiously. “Have you ever seen a waterfall?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He tried to dig through his memories, but like every other time, he ran into a barrier and frustration filled him. “What is this place called?”

“Maiden’s Mane. It’s one of four known as the Great Falls. Now are you ready to begin?”

“We’re sparring here?”

The hermit backed up onto the rock bridge. “Come and see for yourself, it’s as sturdy as can be.”

Gray waved his hands. “Oh, no. You won’t get me out there.”

“Well I can’t spar with myself. Come now.”

“What is wrong with this nice patch of solid earth?” Gray stomped on the ground.

“Why make things difficult? I’ll slip and break my neck, if I don’t plummet to my death first.” Mura only stared at him. Gray sighed. “Is it safe?”

“If you’d look, the rock is covered in rough lichen that’s as good a footing as any.”“Why though? It seems an unnecessary risk.”

“I have my reasons. Do you think every fight is fought on fair and even soil, with no obstacles and no distractions?”

“Well, no, but how often will I need the skills to fight over a waterfall?”

“Look beyond your own two feet, boy. I’ve taught you better than that. You should know at least one reason.”

“Surroundings?”

Mura grunted. “Go on.”

“I guess if I can learn to fight here, I can fight anywhere.”

“Aye, lad, once you put that head of yours to work, you really aren’t the hay-in-the-hair-bumpkin you pretend to be. But why just fighting?”

“What do you mean?”

“It goes beyond battle, lad. In any situation there are any number of distractions. That is how a man gets a dagger in his back, a lighter coin purse, or any other misfortune. A man who does not know his surroundings is a man half blind to the world around him. You must always be aware. Understand?” Gray nodded. “Good, now come.”

Walking out upon the furred rock, he put a hand down, to feel the lichen surface. The gray-green mat was coarse and grainy.

“You’re afraid of heights?”

He didn’t look up.

“All the more reason,” Mura replied. “I can teach you to conquer your fears, but I would rather you confront them. A man who knows his fears lives longer than a man without.”

With a heavy breath, Gray strode forward and raised his yen sword before him. A fine rain fell upon his face. “I’m ready.” He tried not to look in his periphery, tried not to imagine the sickening drop and his body smashing upon the sharp rocks.

“Good,” Mura said and ran a finger along the line of his jaw as he appraised Gray’s stance. “But a sword is much different than a staff. You must learn to hold yourself properly before anything else.”

Mura instructed him in a patient tone and Gray listened. He wondered if he had used a blade before, for holding the yen sword in his fists felt right, like a forgotten dream.

His feet shifted in anticipation. Water thundered, and tension built.