Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches
Focused on settling her emotions, Amdirlain sat with her eyes closed and took in the sensation of the Outlands’ warm golden sunlight against her skin. A mindfulness exercise had her cataloguing everything within Resonance-Lord’s reach down to the smallest piece of grey stone and each redwood plank whose glistening lacquer suddenly reminded Amdirlain of freshly spilt blood. Her admission of guilt churned in the back of Amdirlain’s mind and pulled at the wounds left by multiple lifetimes. Still, Amdirlain blanketed herself with calm before Kadaklan arrived.
Despite this, when Kadaklan stepped into the courtyard, his greeting died on his lips. At a glance, Kadaklan took in Amdirlain’s tight posture and quietly let the courtyard gate close, crossing the courtyard to sit beside her. As Amdirlain dumped more Ki into the crystal before her and continued to cycle gently, Kadaklan did the same.
“You saw right through me,” said Amdirlain.
“You were too calm,” explained Kadaklan. “I’ve only seen you like that when you’re about to kill Eldritch.”
“I never asked you how you felt about surviving the Shadow Tiger’s attack that killed your siblings,” breathed Amdirlain. “You spoke of it openly, so I assumed you were okay, but are you?”
Kadaklan sighed. “Sarah spoke to me about that during our stay. You have a term, survivor’s guilt, yes?”
“Yes,” said Amdirlain, her eyes still closed against the sunlight warming her face.
“It can be a powerful motivation or an anchor around your neck. I know my siblings’ souls went back upon the wheel of life, so you shouldn’t expect your grief to be the same,” said Kadaklan, and he held a hand palm up between them with calm patience. “Is it something from your last lifetime?”
Amdirlain hesitated but still took his offered hand, and the simple reassurance of physical contact had tears forming behind her eyelids. With a twitch, Amdirlain blinked them away and glanced at Kadaklan. “If only it were a regret from one lifetime.”
“You spoke with Sarith, I take it?” asked Kadaklan.
Amdirlain nodded sharply and bit her tongue against saying anything further.
“What about, instead of a lesson, we just sit here and enjoy the sunshine for a time,” proposed Kadaklan.
“No, I need to talk. My brain and emotions are churning,” replied Amdirlain.
“I’m not your Healer, but friends can listen, or they can just sit and provide company,” said Kadaklan. “How does Pain Eater treat guilt and grief?”
“The churning of the emotions is behind my Mental Hardening,” said Amdirlain. “It’s like a surf thudding against the beach. Time will tell if it’s bringing in new materials to strengthen Mental Hardening or chipping away at my control.”
“I believe it’s bringing you new sand to build that barrier higher,” said Kadaklan. “You’re aware of your situation and not denying it or smothering it in work.”
“Or even joking,” observed Amdirlain.
Kadaklan smoothly mock gasped. “The world will end.”
“Are you getting in the quips for me?” huffed Amdirlain.
“Gently testing the waters of your emotions,” said Kadaklan, and he carefully squeezed her hand.
“They’re not a rip tide,” said Amdirlain. “I tried to get them to calm before you arrived, but everything I did set my mind along the path back to them.”
“Perhaps that’s why you appeared overly calm to me, yet you didn’t call off our appointed lesson or simply disappear,” said Kadaklan, and he inclined his head respectfully. “I’m honoured by your trust in me, Am.”
Amdirlain's smile of acknowledgement didn’t touch her eyes. “I know why Ori was always working. Having a list you can’t reach the end of is easier to deal with than emotions.”
“Having an endless list can add to the stress and let emotions build until they drown you,” said Kadaklan.
Maybe that was the reason behind her decision to strip her strength away. Nothing big, just a constant erosion brought on by loneliness. With her Father sealed away in the Spire, was there no one she could be herself with except those times Syl had been reborn?
Amdirlain shrugged. “It depends on the person and their reason for working. I feel energised when I tick something off my list. We never know how much time life will allow us, and that sense of satisfaction from completing something is a real driver for me.”
“That could be just because you’re a workaholic,” said Kadaklan.
“I know how to stop and have fun,” protested Amdirlain.
“I have noticed that most of your fun tends to be related to something else on your list,” argued Kadaklan. “Plenty of trips to listen or enjoy a day out suddenly became a new song composed with Jal’krin or time spent teaching combat techniques.”
Amdirlain shook her head. “Not always. Just because I find opportunities to help with my tasks doesn’t mean I undertook them for that purpose. My mind is simply open and looking for answers.”
“I’ll give you that,” allowed Kadaklan lightly.
“Well, thank you so much,” huffed Amdirlain, and her attempt at playfulness failed at bitter undertones. “Sorry, that wasn’t about your observation. The emotions are still churning, lots of roiling up from memories that I don’t want to touch.”
“Once you find your balance, I’m sure you’ll find a way to channel it constructively,” said Kadaklan. “In the meantime, we’ll hold off on today’s lesson as working on a new Ki technique while unsettled can flaw the foundation. Shall we cycle gently or talk?”
“Talk,” Amdirlain said quickly. “Can you tell me about the South Wind’s Court?”
“Is it from general curiosity or because we might need to take a trip there?” asked Kadaklan.
“Both,” replied Amdirlain. “I am curious about the courts, but learning something new doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“I suppose talking about the courts from my perspective is better than whatever information Gideon might provide you with Analysis,” said Kadaklan. “Why don’t you ask a question, and we’ll see where the conversation takes us?”
“Would we need to go anywhere special in the South Wind’s territory, or could we just approach an outlying monastery or school that might have the technique in their library?” questioned Amdirlain.
Kadaklan snorted. “I let myself in for that one, straight to your goal.”
A smile twitched the corner of her mouth, and Amdirlain shrugged. “I’m trying to understand the scope of what I should ask about. If we have to go somewhere central, I’ll approach my questions differently.”
“It would be safest to go directly to the court. With the South Wind close at hand, the bureaucracy will forward the decision to her, whereas a local Lord might seize a chance for glory and launch a pre-emptive act against the strange Demon,” said Kadaklan.
“Pre-emptive act?” questioned Amdirlain. “That’s a cute way of saying attempting to cut me down.”
“A combative Dao can sometimes blind an individual to the peaceful resolution of a situation,” said Kadaklan. “Fortunately, such mindsets in the bureaucracy are restrained by duties to superiors who have a broader view once you get close to any court’s centre.”
“What lands are in the territory of the South Wind’s Court?”
“How about I give you an overall layout of the five territories starting with it?” said Kadaklan.
“Big picture stuff works for me,” allowed Amdirlain. “I’ve got some idea from a discussion with Cyrus, but another perspective might bring out questions I missed.”
“The southernmost region of the South Wind’s territories is a large island that runs along the top of a large dry land mass that contains strange Shen. As the territory advances northwards, it takes in all the islands and extends westward until it hits a range of mountains. Beyond those mountains, there lives a serpentine species that are said to be in the service of dragons that control the lands along the coastline of the great southern ocean. The Dragon stairs for the South Wind’s territory is found in Siam.”
“Any reason for it to be centred there among the southern nations?”
“The ley lines' junctions or Dragon nests, depending on how one wishes to refer to them, are strong in the area,” explained Kadaklan. “From Siam, land and sea trade routes take goods beyond the northernmost mountains and into the lands under the Jade Emperor’s Court.”
“That’s the perspective from the court’s point of view. Are there Mortal rulers involved as well?” asked Amdirlain.
“There are, but they stay out of matters related to the practitioners or the courts,” said Kadaklan. “While a practitioner still has to pay the road tolls and obey the local ordinances, there are certain limits. When they prove obstructive, a simple demonstration of Ki is usually enough to get the guards to step aside and refer the matter to their local Sect.”
“And when they don’t?”
“People die. Unfortunately, combative practitioners don’t hold back if they’re rudely challenged,” said Kadaklan. “Unless the local magistrate has the backing of a strong and independent Wu Jen, who likely doesn’t appreciate having his studies continually disturbed for petty matters.”
“Each Sect controls how many monasteries?” asked Amdirlain. “Or isn’t a logistical or political limit placed on them?”
“It depends on the number of members the Sect has, but older Sects usually have more monasteries under their authority. However, a few of the oldest sects focus on their presence in a single location, even restricting the number of students they’ll take in. Regardless of the area they hold sway over, all non-heretic sects report to the court that controls the territory they are based in,” said Kadaklan. “None of the sects operate in multiple territories to prevent conflicting orders from the upper bureaucracy.”
“Best to ensure I don’t make a terrible impression at any Court I have to visit then,” said Amdirlain.
“Getting off on the wrong foot could be bad, since the officials of all five courts tend to communicate frequently,” advised Kadaklan. “However, because of the different attitudes in the courts, offending one doesn’t make it a certainty you’ll have offended another.”
“How are their attitudes different?” asked Amdirlain.
“Cultural things typically, though they don’t always align with the current mores of the region,” allowed Kadaklan.
Amdirlain smirked. “Like the attitude towards clothing in the South Wind’s Court?”
Kadaklan laughed. “Oh, you mean the brighter colours we wear compared to the North Wind’s Court?”
“Just brighter colours, or the tendency for skin tones?” quipped Amdirlain, trying to lighten her mood.
“It’s not so much the heat as the humidity during summer that promotes such fashion choices. At the peak of summer, the weather can be stifling, even for those that grew up there,” said Kadaklan. “Anyway, the Jade Emperor’s Court influenced the southern parts of what you referred to as China. The North Wind’s Court extends from the northern reaches past the Great Wall up through Mongolia and into the ice-shrouded lands beyond.”
“Does that mean the West Wind’s Court influences everything west of the Great Wall and into Persia?”
Kadaklan nodded. “Yes, and the East Wind covers the Joseon peninsula, Nippon-koku, and the Shen of the eastern ocean.”
“The courts seem much more involved with Mortal affairs than other pantheons I’ve encountered,” said Amdirlain. “Their ability to access the Material Plane I find odd.”
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“I agree, and I don’t know the cause. The Shen are perhaps more connected to the land and the nature of mortals. Even those who transformed into Shen have restrictions on their ability to travel away from their centre, where each court's Dragon stairs touch upon the Material Plane," Kadaklan said. “Maybe there is something that balances things within the realm’s rules: easier time reaching the Material Plane, but harder to reach other planes; and for small Shen, it is impossible for them to travel outside a court’s territory without losing strength.”
“The Fey are like that, able to move from the Shadow Fey and other dimensions where they live into what they see into the Material Plane. So if I get someone angry in a court, run fast?” asked Amdirlain.
“If it looks to progress beyond an exchange of pointers, Planar Shift immediately before they turn their Third Eye on you,” agreed Kadaklan. “Hopefully, travel among the courts won’t be required, too many large egos.”
Amdirlain groaned and covered her eyes with a hand.
“What?”
“You just doom-flagged me,” muttered Amdirlain. “You should never say something like that.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” grumbled Kadaklan playfully. “Such travel will potentially be unnecessary as I’ve sent a request to get copies of techniques sent here so you never have to set foot within the court’s territories.”
“Are you looking to double down on your bet?” asked Amdirlain. “You might be confident, but what if an Aspect or even a Concept is looking to play a game? Also, I used Yang and Yin entwined in the Abyss on multiple occasions; I was told I caught the Jade Emperor’s attention.”
Kadaklan snapped his mouth shut and mournfully shook his head. “I’ll prepare a talisman of safe passage so that any practitioners will know you are vouched for and not to be harassed. I didn’t think I’d need to go so far as a first step, making those tokens is delicate work.”
“You changed your tune pretty severely,” said Amdirlain. “Not so confident the text will get sent to you now?”
“I’d forgotten about some of your outrageous displays,” admitted Kadaklan. “Though I did not say the scrolls were for you, I requested copies to add to this outpost’s library. You’ll have to pay the contribution points to access them.”
“Yeah? And they don’t know you spent five years already in my company and helped put me back together?” asked Amdirlain. “How unusual would it be for practitioners from the West Wind’s Court to be interested in those techniques in the first place, let alone from the one outpost I have multiple connections to?”
“We can keep our fingers crossed,” said Kadaklan brightly, but his shoulders soon slumped under her sceptical gaze. “You’re right. It is a long shot, but hopefully, they get sent to me.”
“I don’t suppose there are some texts in the library about the do’s and don’ts of the different courts?” asked Amdirlain.
Kadaklan smiled and pulled out a hefty bundle of scrolls from his storage device. “Some light reading, and they don’t even have any tricks within them.”
“They don’t refer to other older texts?” asked Amdirlain. “I heard that was an issue with translating Chinese works. They expect the reader to be conversant with other texts to understand the full meaning of sections.”
“That is a different matter,” sighed Kadaklan, and he tucked the bundle back away. “I’ll track down copies of the classics first, and we can go over those. In the meantime, shall I go on?”
Amdirlain motioned him to continue.
* * * * *
Kadaklan eventually headed off to teach a Healer’s session, leaving Amdirlain alone with her thoughts. The melodies of the monastery provided her with a backdrop against which to balance her emotions. A relaxed shift in the strains of the mapping cube indicated it had finished ingesting the input from the surveyors as it contentedly gurgled away. Amdirlain laughed at its child-like feel and softly brushed against the developing awareness to ensure it hadn’t become over-strained by consuming the details of a world. After Amdirlain considered the robust intelligence still sleeping happily within the cube, she hooked up a new set of surveyors over a primitive world, and it rang happily as more information flowed.
Heading into the room Amdirlain had taken as her own, she collected the floor harp she’d left concealed by the side wall. The feeling of its contact evoking the memory of Ori learning the harp still lingered, and Amdirlain considered the potentially double-edged nature of the gift.
"Was that intentional on Hestia’s part? Can I use it to inspire memories I want to come forth? I want to find out what was between Orhêthurin and Shindraithra.”
Amdirlain settled into position and let the polished body of the floor harp rest against her shoulder. Her fingers traced along the carving that currently showed a forest scene, and the wood blurred into the more comfortable appearance of unadorned white birch. As her hand lifted to play, Amdirlain hesitated and considered the sanity of provoking more memories in her unsettled state.
The question prompted her into action, setting concealment and protections about herself and the harp, Amdirlain started. A running of notes opened the pieces, and as the music roared forth, the energy within the harp cooperated with Amdirlain’s desire. Ready for it this time, Amdirlain felt the energy delve into her Soul with implicit permission and absorbed the song it used to retrieve the memory that enfolded her.
The mountain looked down across a sprawling forest that hummed with life while Mana rushed through a convergence of ley lines. The leaves of trees were awash with a variety of oranges and reds that matched the late autumn season. Their display competed with the dawn sky to be more colourful.
Orhêthurin lay with her legs stretched out in the long grass and her head resting against a metallic flank. “You picked a beautiful spot, Syl.”
‘Of course I did. Why would I pick an ugly spot for my Creation Day celebrations? I’m glad you’re relaxing,’ projected Syl, her mental touch a familiar comfort.
“There are things to do,” replied Orhêthurin, and she motioned to the empty swaths of the sky. “There are stars in that area now whose light hasn’t yet reached this world, but they are still too few to balance the expansion properly.”
‘You could at least lay here and sing more into existence while enjoying the view,’ argued Syl.
“It’s better if I’m closer so I can make out that the smallest detail is correct,” explained Orhêthurin, and she patted the silvery hide beside her head. “Why are you fussing?”
“You don’t take enough time for yourself,” huffed Syl; her words rumbled in the stillness of the air and set thousands of birds erupting from the trees and into the dawn sky. The speeding flocks added to the beauty within the scene, but their panic scratched along Orhêthurin’s perceptions.
“It’s okay, little ones,” Orhêthurin breathed, and birds spiralled about suddenly adrift in purpose with their flight response eased. Already airborne, they started their day early and went out to seek food.
‘Sorry,’ muttered Syl. ‘My voice has gotten loud since my moulting. Will that happen again? Each has been more uncomfortable than the last.’
“A few times, and yet each time will give you a chance to coalesce the power you hold inside yourself. That is an ability most Mortal races won’t possess,” said Orhêthurin.
‘Doesn’t seem fair, rather unlike you,’ noted Syl.
“Maybe I’ll explain how they can gain evolutions one day, but they’ll have the benefit of numbers over dragons,” replied Orhêthurin. “Celestials and daemons have the same capacity as dragons, with the consolidation of their classes as their progression reaches key points. You’ve never previously spoken of the sentient species.”
‘That’s because the others are boring,’ grumbled Syl. ‘They are nothing like pretty elves within your stories. They dig in the ground with sticks and make messes. Are you going to create any interesting races? Something pretty like the Fey you told me stories of? The grubs with the weird arms are particularly ugly.’
“There is beauty in how they care for each other,” replied Orhêthurin, and she held back her own reservations. “I am still learning, and their appearance is the result of my mixing their song with their native environment and wanting to give them access to natural tools to survive.”
‘Making more dragons would have been better,’ insisted Syl.
“I’m not making any more varieties of dragons, though other breeds will come about eventually,” said Ori. Wiggling about, she closed her eyes and focused on Syl’s song alone, interwoven pieces of music down to the orbiting electrons and memories imprinted into Syl’s Soul. The comfort of her oath sister’s affection wrapped around her like a warm blanket, the steady tempo of Syl’s presence felt like arms cradling Orhêthurin. “Why do I need more dragons when I’ve got you around?”
‘Haven’t you released the others yet?’
“I have. Do you want to go see them?” asked Orhêthurin. “I set up a dozen worlds around different stars for dragons and put creatures for them to use as food. Though I’m unsure how long some templates intend to remain on the Material Plane.”
“Cattle?” enquired Syl.
Orhêthurin laughed, and the bell-like sound had animals looking their way, but none fled as they had from Syl’s early rumble. “There is more to eat than the water oxen you love to snack on.”
‘I’ve tried other things to eat, but the oxen are the right portion of meat and bones,’ insisted Syl.
Sitting up, Orhêthurin twisted about to look over Syl’s adamantine form, the liquid silver of her two-hundred-metre-long body capturing the scene of the sky and forest into one. “Are you saying that I’ve not done a good enough job providing a variety of food?”
Syl spluttered at Orhêthurin’s teasing words, prompting a hasty erection of a sound barrier to stop a panic among the animals close enough to hear.
“I never said that!” Syl finally protested in a roar.
“Oh, didn’t you?” asked Orhêthurin interrogatively, her left eyebrow arching high. “What about those giants you were fighting with the other day? Just more snacks?”
“Are you teasing me?” demanded Syl.
The stern look vanished, and Orhêthurin smiled warmly before she held up two fingers a hair apart. “Only a little. That is the first time you’ve provided feedback about anything I’ve implemented. Well, other than telling me that the formithians are ugly, which I knew myself.”
As Syl began to splutter, Orhêthurin raised her hands. “I’ll admit that I made numerous mistakes with them, but I’ll leave them alone to see how they evolve. There is nothing malicious in their melodies, so I’m not playing games with them like a foul God might do.”
The last words were edged with pain, and Orhêthurin quashed down her sorrow.
“If you want feedback, I need something more challenging to munch on,” said Syl softly, distracting Orhêthurin to draw her past her lingering grief. “Or can I munch on the formithians?”
“I’ve put plenty of monsters besides giants in place on the worlds, and you keep calling them snacks. As for the formithians, I’m sure the dragons will clash with them in time over something. I’ve learnt that all living things fight for supremacy, but don’t go looking for a fight with them, please. The realm is still young, and we need a solid base of souls to help with the realm’s energy flows.”
“I don’t understand,” said Syl. “Mana comes from all living things. What is so important about having souls?”
“More than just Mana is involved in the realm’s energy flows. The presence of souls helps Father with the energy drawn from the Far Chaos. While he can use it directly, souls are an aspect of every realm’s operation. Souls are chaos purified to various degrees, and living helps order the energy into different aspects. Entities with souls help the rotation of the outer planes. As they pass into the afterlife, their actions in life earn them their passage through the Astral Plane, which adds to the planar rotation. The longer a being is alive, the more force they impart during that trip and add to the Plane they arrive on.”
“Is it the same in every realm?”
“You are getting more curious, Syl. No, not in every realm,” admitted Ori. “Each creator has to decide how the energy the souls accumulate is transferred, or if it is. In some realms we visited, most of that energy focuses inwards and causes a Soul’s transformation no matter what Plane draws the Soul on their first trip.”
Syl moved her snout closer to Orhêthurin and exhaled softly, her warm breath pressing the silken cloth against Orhêthurin’s skin. “Why didn’t you take that approach?”
“Now look who is teasing,” grumbled Orhêthurin. “Do you want an answer or to play games?”
‘Answer please,’ replied Syl, though her gaze shone with more than the morning sunlight.
“For every Soul in those realms, they get only a single chance to determine the Plane they reside on for eternity, but it can cause flawed transformations if the direction from that first life doesn’t fully suit the Soul. That’s where the seed of wisdom comes in, allowing the Soul to accumulate weight to aid their transformation,” replied Ori. “Now, I’ll admit some particularly vile deeds mark souls, and I don’t want those souls tainting the wheel of life again after they’ve shed their energy into the lower planes. People that have been completely foul to others don’t get second chances.”
Like father’s relatives won’t.
‘What about people who haven’t been especially good?’ inquired Sly silently.
“Those who have been angelic even in their first life will receive a transformation into a Celestial even if they don’t remember the life that earned them that prize,” explained Orhêthurin.
“The repeated chances are for those who didn’t live the best of lives but still did the best they could?” chuffed Syl questioningly.
Orhêthurin nodded and lay back down. “And you. I’m afraid your Oath means your Soul has to keep coming around to keep me company. I should have considered that before agreeing to it and the terms she set for your survival.”
‘I want to keep you company forever, my sweet Ori,’ said Syl, and she curled her neck around to frame Ori’s stretched-out form, and warm notes stirred with her theme.
Orhêthurin laughed. “What are you up to, Syl?”
‘I’m cuddling you,’ replied Syl, the touch of her mind nestled against Orhêthurin’s.
“You’re in the wrong form for proper cuddling,” replied Orhêthurin as her heart rate and breathing quickened.
Syl’s Dragon form vanished, and a petite Elven woman with waist-length, silvery hair gleaming in the sunlight stood straddling Orhêthurin’s feet. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m three hundred today and want lots of kisses from you, my sweet.”
The husky tones roiled with heat and need, and Orhêthurin’s stomach twitched in sympathy at the warmth that surged downwards. With a smirk, Syl wiggled her pert nose, the motion drawing attention to her alabaster skin and lush ruby-red lips, sending a quiver of anticipation through Orhêthurin.
A slow exhale calmed Orhêthurin’s anxious butterflies and stilled the questions and insecurities that whispered in her mind. All her attention became fixed on the new melodies that stirred in Syl’s song, as her love’s tongue flicked across her lips.
“Do you want to be on top?” breathed Syl before she blurred into an elven male, and the silken clothing he wore clung to well-defined muscle. “Or should I?”
“I’ll always know your song in every form, Syl, and that’s what matters to me,” replied Orhêthurin, and she hurriedly rephrased her awkward words with emphatic intensity. “Whatever way you want to be with me is perfection to me. It doesn’t matter the flesh that clothes your Soul.”
Syl’s lips curled in a bright smile, and passion blazed in her amethyst gaze. “Softness first.”
With a playful growl, Syl blurred back into the female form and pounced. Fingers entwined in hair, and their lips claimed each other.
The long grass beneath Orhêthurin became soft blankets that matched the velvety feel of Syl’s lips claiming Orhêthurin’s. Their clothes didn’t last a heartbeat as Orhêthurin’s will tore them asunder to let skin press against skin, and Orhêthurin’s hands slid downwards, and her arms wrapped around her beloved. Syl's theme rang with fierce love, and she softly moaned in the back of her throat in time to the movement of Orhêthurin’s hands.
Minutes later, Syl broke free of her lips, heated kisses were brands of frustration as she teasingly dropped lingering kisses along the slopes of Orhêthurin's breasts. As a tongue finally brushed across a rock-hard nipple, Orhêthurin’s gasp came with a spike of need. That surge of emotion allowed Amdirlain to break free of the memory's yearning grasp. Flushed to the tips of her ears and body pulsing in sympathy with the memory, Amdirlain yanked her hands clear of the strings.
Holy mackerel, no one has ever kissed me like that; Torm’s kisses were gentle, but Syl kissed like she wanted to savour every millimetre of Ori. Not to mention how Syl’s Soul blazed when she focused on Ori.
Amdirlain went to rise, but another memory seething with pain and rage washed over her before she’d finished setting the harp upright.