Valley of Angels

A wind, cold and bitter blows from the north west that breaks upon the oaken forest, below in the Valley of Angels, the grass and reeds dance with the broken breeze, bowing and worshipping the waters of the silent river that cuts through the valley's heart, it has no name.

To the south east a ring of hills hides well a tended valley, in it's flat lands the ancient rice fields lay, watched by an even older home, whose caretaker is young, but wary.

He keeps a sword with him, it's name is Mokusatsu, and as long as he holds it ready, no weapon against him may find it's mark.

This man often goes to this nameless river to look up to shimmering heaven above, contemplating the pale beauty of the moon, which no earthly treasure can match.

And it is often that he awakes on this solemn river bank, having been lulled to sleep by the peaceful tune of silent river and dancing reeds.

It was on one of these nights that he sat on soft river bank, his face upturned to the wheeling dome of the sky with sword upon his lap, that he found himself suddenly awakened by a flash, the smell of sulfur and the sound of a great thunder clap, for he had been sleeping.

When, drawing Mokusatsu and standing tall on tired legs, he beheld a great two headed serpent.

Terrible it was, and upon each head stared six eyes, and in the center of each cluster a crimson horn that split and curled, and upon the four tips was tied a pure white ribbon. It's mouths were huge and filled with rows of needle-like teeth, and it belched the stench of death. It was covered in many plate-like scales, of pale blue, tipped in vivid hues of red and green, it had no legs, writhing about as a venomous snake.

The creature turned to the man, it's many unblinking eyes fixing themselves on him. It spoke, it's voice heavy and dripping with despair, "Ah, how good! You've saved me the trouble of hunting by being right here!" the serpent grinned it's horrible leering grin, black saliva seeping from it's twin mouths who spoke as one, "Tell me man, what is your name?"

"They call me Kawabe, keeper of the sheltered feilds." And he stood then at the ready, sword leveled with the split of the demons neck, "Tell me then, your name!"

The creature let a low rumble travel through it's putrid bowels, shaking it from tail to dual heads and terminating in a puff of black smoke and a foul laugh, "Silly man! How foolish! How amusing! Don't you think one moment? Write it on your forehead! Recite it every day and you'll not comprehend it! Do you wish to know the name of your destroyer?" And again he shook and writhed with foul laughter, "I am the one called Xaszhalaxay! The great feaster!"

And the swordsman shook, the mere name causing him to lose heart.

"Now then," the creature rumbled, "To feast..." but just as it lowered it's terrible heads to strike, the sun broke upon the tree covered hills, causing Xaszhalaxay to shriek and tremble, fleeing wildly to the north west.

When the morning sun rose and the beast fled, all weariness in Kawabe fled with him, and he set of in pursuit of the serpent. His quarry led him to the edge of the wood, but the shadows were it's realm and it was wise in the art of woodcraft, so that although it fled quickly it left no sign so that the Swordsman was forced to turn back.

* * * * * * * *

Again that night the bitter wind broke upon the hills, though this time it blew fiercer and with purpose, dislodging sturdy branches from trees and blowing them down into the valley. No longer was that silent river still, but it churned and flowed fast and treachuerously. The Swordsman stayed within his valley, tending to his fields and his workers fears.

But to the north there lived a man, his daughter and three sons, they tended fields of wheat and kept cows. It was on this bitter night that the daughter, a fair girl of 16, went out into the night to search for a cow that she saw was missing from it's pen. She tracked it to the edge of the Twilight Valley where only a mess of blood and lack of grass told of the lost bovine, and she was startled, yet never faltered, for she was brave.

A low rumble came from behind and she shook, daring not to turn back to face it as the hot wet breath of that terrible thing was upon her, the stench of fresh blood upon it's wafting fumes. She clutched the pendant that hung around her neck, praying to be spared.

* * * * * * * *

The sun once more took it's place in the sky, driving back the dreadful night. Kawabe awoke, rested and full of life. He dressed lightly, for it was a hot day even in the early hours. The sun seemed to smile down upon that protected land, it's warm rays flowing through all and chasing out the cold night.

Passing out into the fields He made his way down to where the workers tended the rice beds, greeting them with soft smile and pleasant salute.

He then walked up past the worked land and atop the hills, making his way to the valley to hunt for the sweet berries that grew on the forests edge, though he had hopes he'd find no sign of the fiend that had appeared in that place just a day past.

He walked just inside the line of trees, the various bushes just coming up around his stomach. What he found was not berries, but he came upon a clearing, it appeared that all the vegetation in a thirty foot radius had been completely destroyed, leaving a circle of empty dirt coated in thick grey ash. But his next discovery was far more distressing, and it shook him.

Upon the ground hidden in some bushes lay a severed hand, torn off at the wrist. In it was clutched a pendant of the sun. He wrapped the hand in white silk and tucked it in his bag meant for berries, putting the pendant in his belt.

He set of to the north, knowing a farmer lived there and that he had children. He arrived without further adventure, finding the farmer outside. When he showed the man the pendant he was surprised, thinking his daughter had gone off to his fields, but when he explained himself after having shown him the hand the old farmer bowed his head and wept, bidding the Swordsman to leave and take the pendant with him. He bowed, turning and going on his way.

It was nightfall by the time he returned to the Valley of Angels, carrying the pendant around his neck. When suddenly he sensed something flying towards his head, and within mere inchs of the thing touching his head he had his Mokusatsu up to block it. It pushed him several feet back with the powerful blow, tearing up grass beneath his sandaled feet.

The thing was the club like tail of Xaszhalaxay, who had gained a more terrifying appearance and four monstrous legs.

"Hahaha!" he laughed, his tongue flailing about in his hideous heads, "What fun! You've blocked my tail, but I'll eat you, and I'll grow stronger! And no one will stop me!" And with that he lunged at the Kawabe with a hideous cry, but was easily sidestepped, leaving him sputtering and sprawling in the river. "Fool!" he screamed, "Such schildish behavior! Why can't you stand there shaking like that little girl?" and he sought to strike him again with his tail, the club like lobe on it's end splitting open to reveal a large stinger, but this too was easily dealt with, parried by the blade of Mokusatsu.

"Foolish demon, don't you know? No harm may come to me as long as in my hand this blade remains!" and saying this as he rushed forward and sought out the creatures neck. He smote it across it's left side, his blade plunging deep and stopping at the bone. Putred blood of sickly green gushed from the wound, staining his robes and causing him to nearly puke.

Xaszhalaxay roared in pain and rage as the holy blade cut him, nearly cleaving off his head. He groaned and shrieked, smoting the Swordsman across his chest with a foot and tearing the blade from his neck as his foe fell unconscious to the muddied ground, he tossed the sword away and began to flee again, the flesh upon his wounded neck bubbling and popping.

And so the Swordsman lay, passed out until morning, when a worker came and brought him home with his sword.

To be continued...?