Stumbling away from a dust-stricken cloud, Ilmiri hacked a mouthful of viscous blood onto the hoary earth. His knees buckled, jolting his addled mind.
Narrowly catching himself in a low crouch, he laid Junior Brother Josiah's concussed form on a cobblestone parapet.
Please ...
He pressed his finger to his junior brother's neck.
Badum-badum.
Ilmiri released the stale breath he'd long since forgotten.
Just unconscious, he reminded himself. Not dead. Unconscious.
Stifling a grimace, Ilmiri dug his blistered fingers into the rampart's chalky grout, waging a desperate war against an avalanche of oncoming delirium.
Futile.
Ilmiri's grip inexorably slackened. Teetering forward, his lacerated palm painted a line of crimson down the parapet's length.
Covered in soot, reeking of sweat, and severely exhausted, he slouched beside his junior brother.
Beaten and bruised, they lay there.
Pillowed by craggy stone, blanketed by buffeting silt.
And they slept.
Safe and sound.
**
Ilmiri's eyelids snapped open, startled by a chill amid the turquoise sky's perennial embrace.
"Namo Buddhaya, Benefactor," chimed a gentle coo, the speaker's murky silhouette looming over them. "Buddha is merciful. Sleep. Through me, Buddha shelters you and your companion from mortal woes."
Grunting, Ilmiri dragged his haggard body along the rugged cobblestone. All the while, his eyes stayed glued to the purported monk—whose robes, catching an errant glint, revealed themselves a loamy burgundy.
A soft sigh rang as, precluding Ilmiri's further examination, an enlarging finger encompassed his vision.
Tap.
"Sweet dreams."
**
In the next instant, Ilmiri found himself seated atop cold pavement, submerged in an eerie fog.
Opposite him, a wizened, silver-bearded elder expounded, "For the remainder of the lecture, we will engage in a discussion addressing the 146 most common deficiencies I've compiled. You there, go ahead and start us off."
"... Huh?"
The elder, shaking his head, summoned a set of glowing numerals reading: "-1/146."
**
Karma tapped his chin, peering down at the pair of unconscious Winged Bellicosi disciples. "Should I take one and extort the other, or take both and extort a different winged man—or woman—altogether?"
"How about this: take both of them for now and wait until the baldies deliver their end?" suggested Anlîthëma. "That way, you'll have the subsequent Promise ready in time for their ransom note."
"Great idea!" Waving an oversized sleeve, Karma collected the snoozing warmongers into his spatial pouch. "Alrighty—let's go find Senior Brother Lione."
Come to think of it, I never properly thanked him for his warm welcome to the sect.
**
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Swatting a eucalyptus leaf, Lione negotiated a biome of dense rainforest, the teeming foliage his sole company.
Damn it, where is she? We were supposed to meet two days ago!
Grumbling, he invariably continued his trudge through the endless marsh, begrudging fate and her many cruelties.
Thwack! Ding-a-ling.
Toppling forward uncontrollably with glazing eyes, he wondered, Were those ... bells?
Thump.
**
Twirling an unadorned bamboo staff—one of the four in his collection—Karma briskly scooped up Senior Brother Lione's prone figure.
"Guess I didn't need these," he muttered, doffing Ilmiri's indigo robes. "Oh well, better safe than thwacked on the noggin from behind."
"This 'Lione' didn't seem very special compared to the other two. Will the Abyssal Crow disciples bother exerting themselves to ensure his return?"
"Yup!"
"Oh? What makes you so confident?"
Peeking left then right, Karma whispered, "His sister is quite popular with the male disciples, so—"
"Say no more. I understand completely."
**
"Hmm, Erinyes entered a challenge realm ..."
Pacing back and forth, Karma idly checked on the Cittamātra monks' progress.
"Eh?" His steps paused. "That's odd."
"Care to share with those lacking in omniscience?"
Humming, Karma explained, "They've already gathered more than enough Cosmic Fairy Dust, but they're idling in a circle as if the opposite holds true."
"Perhaps Tathāgata garners respect and hatred in equal measure?"
Karma shrugged. "Why don't we ask whoever's got the ransom note? Let's see ... Ah, there they are."
At his command, white-golden threads embarked on a voyage across time and space, extending Karma's Ouroboric dominion toward his unsuspecting quarry. Bolstered by his sixth-level Qi Formation reserves, the ethereal threads met negligible resistance in their passage, even shouldering Anlîthëma's burden bereft of compromise.
**
Budai, the most muscular of the Cittamātra monks present, joined his brethren in their symphonic recitation of sutra.
Hey, big boy!
Venerated cants bestowed ageless wisdom deep into his soul, layering secret upon esoteric secret for his unending perusal.
BIG. BOY. I know you can hear me—respond, damn you!
Budai's heart nearly rocketed to his throat.
Buddha? he quavered.
What? No. I've been trying to reach you concerning your Tathāgata's pending recovery.
The heathen!?
So you do recognize me. In that case, what's with the delay? Is my Fairy Dust ready for pick-up?
We have it! Tone souring, he added bitterly, We'll happily relinquish the Cosmic Fairy Dust; in exchange, could you hold onto Doyen Tathāgata for just a smidgen longer?
Silence.
No.
Budai deflated.
However, I can knock him out for—say—two days? Would that be agreeable?
DEA—Yes, Benefactor, the Cittamātra Sect appreciates your preternatural benevolence.
"Everyone!" boomed Bodai. "Deposit your Cosmic Fairy Dust in Doyen Tathāgata's holy shrine this instant!"
**
"I think ..." began Anlîthëma, "their hatred holds a slight edge over their respect."
Karma nodded. "Slight seems an accurate appraisal."
**
"Quit groaning! I don't want to hear any complaints; just do it!"
Glancing back and forth at his sullen brethren, he added in a small voice, "Doyen Tathāgata needs our support—especially considering he'll be asleep for the coming two days."
In a sudden turnaround, morale experienced a significant uptick.
...
Soon, a pile of mercurial, cerulean powder inhabited the congregation's center.
Swoosh.
Then it was gone.
"126, spatial awareness. 127, ..."
Replaced by a sleep-talking monk sporting a dim, shriveled halo.
Seemingly ignorant of their prodigious leader's return, the circumscribing monks fluidly transitioned into yet another round of intonations.
By popular demand, the Nīlakaṇṭha Dhāraṇī—also known as the Great Compassion Mantra—was elected as their scripture of choice.
Never again would it be sung with such mirth.
**
In a secluded den, Karma presented Schrödinger's Crucible with his begotten Promise.
Their transaction proceeded in its usual give-and-take: a Promise beget a Request, and a Request beget a Promise.
Seventh level of Qi Formation and—
A smile of contentment graced Karma's complexion.
Octuple linearity acceleration. So, it does increase exponentially! But why do I feel as if there's something more?
Something ... deeper: A summit whose sum proves greater than its parts.
Ever eager to explore, he hopped to his feet, recalling his latest Promise. "Next up: a triplet of Causal Ficus Leaves."
“Will you be carving this ransom note as well?”
“Nope. I’ve got a better idea.”
**
Discordant clashes roused Josiah from the throes of slumber, greeted by a copse of unfamiliar, swarthy trees.
The roar of battle grew ever faint. Before long, a chorus of shuffling weeds signaled a group’s approach.
Too dazed to react, Josiah succumbed to the whims of fortune.
Hoping against hope that they were allies.
Dreading miserly dread that they were foes.
“Brother Josiah?” asked a stunned, throaty timbre. “What’re you doing here?”
“I—” undreamt dreams accosted his psyche: snippets of a faceless monk, Senior Brother Ilmiri, and gilded bronze leaves. They unspooled like cascading tides, overwhelming him with their magnitude alone.
“Senior Brother Ilmiri was taken! Hurry, we must save him!” he shouted shrilly.
Josiah felt a placating caress, hazily registering a red-headed woman’s towering stature.
“Calm yourself. When you’re ready, you can tell us everything from beginning to end. Okay, Brother Josiah?”
He swallowed. “Okay.”
…
Forcing a harrowed breath, he spoke measuredly, “First, we entered a dustbowl …”