Ren woke feeling like a stepped on turd. But that was expected. It wasn’t like he could keep up his cycling technique in his sleep.

Today was different though. Under all the pain and sludge that fogged his mind was hope. He kept up the Blood Cleansing Wheel whenever he could. Between bites of breakfast barley. During lectures. During their marching exercise in formations training. He still couldn’t control his breathing well enough to maintain it while running, but his shakes were just a little bit better when he arrived at weapons drill than they had been the day before.

A little bit was enough. It had to be.

The drill sergeant didn’t even glance at him as he inspected the cohort.

When they broke off into pairs, angry shadows filled the creases of Ramul’s scowling face.

“Didn’t they tell you to give up, runt? Scurry off so I can train with a real man. You might not like what happens if you don’t.”

Ren’s breath caught, but only for an instant. He returned to his cycling and bowed to the man. “Please instruct me. We fight for the same cause, so my strength will be your strength.”

“You must be cracked in the head.”

Then the sergeant called for them to begin. As usual they started out striking and blocking in time with the calls of the sergeant.

“I’ve bled too much to be held down by a city princess who can’t even hold a sword.” Ramul spat the words over the sound of wood on wood. “A worthless gutter rag who’s never held a bleeding comrade. Who’s never tasted the blood of an enemy on his blade.”

Insults and threats continued for the duration of the exercise, only pausing when the sergeant passed within ear shot.

“Time for variable training. Begin!”

Ren gulped down bile. Now they had to take turns attacking one another in random patterns. This was where he always faltered.

Ramul grinned and the angry shadows deepened.

Breathe. Relax. Cycle.

The first strike came from the left, faster and harder than ever before. Ren sunk into his stance as he caught the blow, absorbing some of the impact with his legs as Hamsa had taught him. His weapon stayed in his hand. He smiled.

The next strike came as a slice up from the ground. He parried that one too.

Then Ramul spun his weapon behind his head causing Ren to scramble, trying to figure out where the next blow would come from.

The attack came down diagonally from the high right, and Ren’s blade made it up just in time, wrist buckling under the weight of it. But the flat of his blade braced against his shoulder dispersing the force.

Ramul paused, eyes narrowing.

The clatter of practice blades nearby had ceased. Be it from the intensity of their brief exchange or some animalistic recognition of Ramul’s violent intent, Ren knew not.

The mercenary shot forward and Ren stumbled to the side to avoid being bowled over. He was still regaining his footing when the next barrage came. But this wasn’t a practice assault. There was no slight pause between strikes as there had been before.

Ren blocked the first blow, a diagonal slash coming up from the left, stumbling back from the strength of it. He didn’t have time to celebrate his miraculous parry before a thrust punched into his gut, emptying his lungs, and another attack swept his legs out from under him.

He had just enough time to gasp for air and widen his eyes in fear as a final stroke flew down towards his face.

CLACK

The sound boomed across the full expanse of the training grounds.

The drill sergeant stood above Ren. His own wooden blade extended in a bind with Ramul’s.

“Congratulations recruit. Looks like you finally figured out how to hold a sword.”

Though wheezing and retching from the gut blow and impact with the ground, Ren was able to smile when he looked at his hand, white knuckles still gripped around his weapon.

After a long moment, Ramul dropped his weapon and backed up a step.

“Do we have a problem?” asked the drill sergeant.

“No sir,” replied the mercenary. “Got a little too excited is all. Won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. One can only hope that you’re more than an angry dog that doesn’t know its place.”

Ramul paled with anger, but stood at attention, jaw bulging with the apparent effort of biting down whatever retort fought for control of his tongue.

“Take your training partner to the medic tent and report back on the double.”

“Yes sir.”

He scooped Ren up like he was no more than a child’s doll and ran off toward the white tent in the distance, each step a jarring bounce that had had the boy fighting to keep his breakfast in his stomach.

Ramul set Ren on his wobbly feet, and turned without a word to run back to weapons drill.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Oh, it’s you!”

Ren looked up, still bent over in an effort to master his breathing, and saw Miss Chocolate Eyes from the day before. She led him inside and sat him down on a cot, following up with a rundown of his vital signs and a full examination of his body, asking questions the whole time. She palpated his abdomen where he’d been hit and he winced. Then she felt around the growing welt on his leg.

It was all Ren could do to sip in air and gasp out answers to her questions. His limbs started shaking. Shit. The blows had disrupted his cycling and now the toxin in his meridians was going wild.

“Are you okay? How long has this been going on?” Her gaze was earnest and soft. He wouldn’t have been surprised if some recruits got injured just to be looked at like that.

“I’m fine.” He waved her concerns away with a trembling hand. “It’s really nothing. I just got hit real hard. It’ll settle when I calm down.”

“You men.” She crossed her arms and looked down her oh so fine nose at him. “You could be bleeding out and you wouldn’t admit to any problems. I swear, unless your manhood is involved-”

“Amhara! Stop your ranting and let the boy go. I watched him get pitched on his ass. He doesn’t need you dragging him in the dirt on your crusade against soldiers acting tough.” A man in doctor’s robes stepped into the tent and smiled at him, a twinkle in his eye like he knew just what Ren was thinking about the pretty medic.

“You can head back, soldier,” continued the man. “Just no more sparring for today.”

Ren bowed his head in gratitude. “Thanks for all the help, Amhara.” He tested her name out and decided it was worthy of her.

Then he was off in a hobbling run back to the training sands. Finally letting his smile slip into a grimace and settling into his breathing pattern for the Blood Cleansing Wheel.

There had to be a way for him to get some of those spirit pills. If he’d been able to stand for even a moment against an angry Ramul, anything was possible. Wasn’t it?

*******

Mupali’katana had survived. So had Bargan’atar, the strongest (and most foolish) male.

She mourned the loss of her sett, but watching as the little ones crawled over her mate was proof enough that they could rebuild.

The dark scourge had dissipated, though the forest to the east might never be what it once was. Indeed, the wise trees were not replaceable. Those fathers of the forest who had ruled over and protected her people since the days of her first ancestors were gone forever.

North. She’d felt a pull and followed the scent of sky and lightning. It led her along the human road that had been scarred into the earth. They passed a settlement of grey earth rock, into the hilly woods beyond. What kind of creature walked amongst humans? Was she tracking a wandering god?

Something powerful enough to destroy a world ending beast had to be a god… or a demon. She shivered from snout to tail.

“Mother of the wilds protect us.” Yes, only Paratmari’ilthunana could help them now. She would ask for the blessing of this being before building a new sett, and hope that it didn’t like the taste of badger meat.

“Everything alright, Sett-Mother?” Bargan’atar, sweet fool that he was, wore a gaze of concern as he licked his claws.

“Yes, First-Mate.”

He perked up at the title. A little praise went a long way. And he deserved it for surviving with her. Had he fallen behind she would have been alone, doomed to wander in solitude as only the most cursed of her kind did. Maybe even forced to bond to a human.

“We are close, Bargan’atar. Groom the little ones and get them ready for a procession.”

She took to grooming herself and then helped him with the spots he couldn’t reach. Then they set off along the stream. The water carried that sky scent. Purer than any she’d ever encountered. Surely worthy of the heavens.

If only she could scout ahead and know what she was walking into. But that would be rude. Instead, they organized into a line, little ones at the front, sprinkling seeds along their path as was custom. Sett-Mother Mupali’katana led her mate in their wake, her steps pressing the seeds into the earth. An offering of life to come.

She almost stumbled when she saw the being. Bargan’Atar wasn’t so lucky, hissing as he no doubt stubbed a claw on a root.

It looked like a crumpled up human. Filthy, and dressed in woven fibers that had been torn from the coat of a sheep. But its spirit spilled out, folding and intertwining with the land and all that grew upon it. Rooting down into the deep dark–deeper than any sett had ever been dug. Soaring into the sky.

She and her people lined up and bowed their heads to the earth to await judgment.

*******

Ren awoke gasping. His skin was burning, or being eaten by a thousand ants. Sharp, hot lines of pain traced the length of his body.

He wrestled out of his bivvy into the cold blackness. It was still night. His legs were too shaky to stand on and he crawled over to the firepit, holding a palm over the coals till he felt some warmth. He unburied the live coal and placed some shredded bark on it from a tinder box they kept nearby, breathing the coal back to life till the fuel caught and a little flame was birthed. He built it up with twigs then sticks then a proper chunk of a log.

Thanks be to the stars in their palace up above for Gunney’s fire-building lessons.

The fire grew to a crackling heat and light finally showed him that there were no ants biting his skin. There were, however, black veins running along his limbs.

Fire Burn Me.

This was bad. Really bad. He let some of the heat from the fire soak into him, till he could breathe a little easier and settled into the Blood Cleansing Wheel once more. But it was like pushing a boulder uphill. His Qi felt stuck. The black remnants of the serpent clung to his flesh, and his only defense against it wasn’t working.

He was going to die.

“Ye, a spirit of tae night?”

Ren nearly jumped. But he was able to keep his focus on his breathing, on pushing against his stuck Qi.

“Heavens Light! Ye look like a pack of dogs shit yeh out.”

He met her eyes. They glimmered a reflection of the fire, but more than that, he could swear he saw a halo of golden light encircling her irises.

“Can I try ta help?”

He nodded.

The girl knelt down beside him and held her palms just a hair’s breadth from his skin, closing her eyes. He knew the pain was bad because he was feeling and seeing things again. He could have sworn he felt a tingle passing from her hands into him. He could have sworn there was a faint golden glow in the space between his skin and hers.

The warmth seemed to spill like ink in water till suddenly something in him moved. His Qi! It was moving with his breath again. He cycled and gradually the current of his life force dislodged the black sludge from his body and swept it up back into the current.

Finally, she took her hands away and collapsed, slumping into him.

“Thank you.” He wrapped an arm around her, accepting her closeness and warmth. But her breathing was uneven.

“Are you okay?” He shook her and her eyes fluttered open, a golden ring flickering within them.

“Tired soul,” she said. “Warmth. Hold.”

It was the least he could do. His free arm threw more logs on the fire as he pulled her in closer.

Eventually her breath evened out and her head drooped, letting out a faint rhythmic snore.