The Well
3 August 1998
by Ed Rubin

The battle to return to the castle had been worse than the one that Naoki had run to join after that challenge duel against the brute champion of the Scorpion clan yesterday. That had been so like the Scorpion to attack with a misleading distraction of a false offer on one side, and the main blow on the other. The fighting had been extremely tough this morning, and despite his endurance, Naoki had been wounded sufficiently to warrant his removal from the front line. He knew that the front line was only as strong as its weakest point, so it was time to give over his position to those who had not yet been as grievously wounded as he had. He would return, he knew. This battle would weaken them all to a point worse than he was now. Naoki was worried only that the time might come when he alone could continue to fight. No, he was mostly worried that time would arrive sooner than he had anticipated.

Naoki thought of this entire siege, the first that he had participated in where the enemies were human. It was worse than fighting a horde of goblins, for humans were intelligent, though in the midst of a battle such as this, the enemy swarmed almost as thickly as goblins did. With goblins, you could mow them down as though they were grass, and they fell as quickly. Human foes required a careful, calculated strike each time. It was more wearying this way.

And the duels! What unparalleled stupidity! In the middle of battle, to sheath one's sword and make it personal. Craziness! No tactical sense, no strategic sense, no sense at all, except in these other clan's sense of honor. Well, though he might not be as quick, and his Iaijutsu not as sure as that of his opponents, he was the one still standing. He had taken their blows and cut them all down afterwards, and their honor now spilled out of them with their blood, staining this ancient battlefield anew.

He must be quite a target now, he thought. The front force of Scorpions had seen him dice their champion, and the rear force had seen him duel one after another. The price on his head must be rising, the "honor" of cutting him down ever increasing. He might never get another chance at honest fighting! Well, his skill at the duel was rising, and if he could get it to the point where he could strike first, at that point was not far off, he felt, well then the tune might change. Those swaggering Scorpions might then start to think twice of challenging him, and Naoki could return to his beloved mayhem of swinging and striking multiple foes in single blows.

The battle of the morning and early afternoon, with those three duels in a row, had weakened him, and the Scorpions had managed to bring down the palisade after a strategic withdrawal to the castle was sounded by Takeshi. Naoki had not been up to par during this evening's fighting, but he still managed to destroy a siege crew attempting to fill in a point on the moat. Takehai and he had utterly destroyed them, and Naoki knew that although killing peasants had not been challenging, if they had succeeded in their goal the easy access afforded the Scorpion bushi would have been a major problem for Hare Castle. Thus, Naoki was pleased with his and Takehai's tactical coup. Having taken more wounds in subsequent fighting, though, he felt his endurance slipping, and retreated to the castle to replenish his strength at the well.

There it was now. His first glimpse of it brought to him a particular thought, at is so often did. The well, like the sword he carried, reflected all of the elements: The earth it was dug into, the water it provided, the fire of thirst it could slake, the air of the breath he would regain while drinking, and the void he could contemplate in its depths as he drew up the bucket. A return to the well was always a happy moment for Naoki, for he had survived once again. That meant he had done his duty successfully, and could return to do it again.

He wondered about his companions, and whether they too would have this chance. He thought particularly of Marako, who he had seen smashing battle lines, contingents of shugenja, and individual samurai alike. What a warrior! What a companion in arms she would make in a foray into the Shadowlands, she and her steed trampling the foes underfoot and clearing a line to the heart of the enemy! Naoki was almost laughing in joy at the thought of the real honor they could win together in those circumstances: No silly dueling,

just smash and slash, and the Shadowlands would stand no more! In its usual way, Naoki's mind turned to wondering whether Marako might laugh out loud at the prospect of such a foray, whether she might have any laugh at all lurking under her quiet demeanor, and whether, if she did, it might be as mighty as her fighting. This line of thought did bring a laugh to his parched throat, and it burst out of him merrily...

Then it stopped dead. Standing by the well, he could now make out a dark figure there, one he immediately knew did not belong. Dressed all in black, with black material covering also the bottom of his face, the figure was clearly trying to remain inconspicuous and planning to do harm to the well. Could that be a ninja, the fairy-tale dreamt up by peasants?

Naoki had no time to wonder, though, just to act now, before the dark figure could achieve whatever he was planning. Naoki's sword was still in his hand, and he leapt, his tired body protesting, at this new foe. But that foe was as slippery as a still living eel, wriggling on the bottom of a boat. Naoki's sword flashed as the man reached into a pouch, but he missed! (How had that happened!?) Naoki swung again, and missed again. This creature was everywhere, and nowhere, at the same time. Naoki was incensed, and, leaping more agilely than seemed possible, followed the dark figure around the well. It was clear that the dark fiend would soon find what he was looking for in that pouch, and Naoki did not want to discover what that might be. His third swing, though, connected, and that slowed his opponent so that the fourth blow was able to stop his wriggling for good.

Naoki felt close to collapse, and parched beyond belief. He dragged himself wearily to the well, and looked down into it, seeing nothing but the void that he had anticipated there, hiding the water that he so eagerly awaited. He passed the bucket down into the depths of the earth, brought up the waters, slaked his thirst, quenched the fire in his throat, and finally did collapse with his back to wall of the well, contemplating the slain figure in black. At that moment, he heard the signals to the Hare troops to withdraw to the castle. Soon, Naoki thought, as soon as he could catch his breath, he would send a message to Takeshi, warning of what he had discovered here. Now, however, all he could do was rest. An earthquake pauses between blows, a volcano erupts, then stops.

So even the Earth itself must rest sometime, mustn't it?