“Save your disgustingly refreshing breath, Maygan. No one can save you.” The words splattered from Dumpus’ sticky wet mouth. “I will take great pleasure dismembering your grotesque body one toned, slender appendage at a time.” Dumpus pulled her right arm with increasing pressure. Maygan bore down knowing there was pain to come. As long as she lived, she would not give Dumpus the pleasure it craved. She did not cry out despite the awful popping and cracking noises in her shoulder.

Dumpus squeezed her torso and Maygan struggled to take a breath. Her mind raced. The demon grew stronger, but how? She must be missing something.

A dozen Dumpus minions stood behind their master swaying rhythmically as if caught in a gentle a wind. If she could just break free, she believed she could reduce eight or nine of them to puddles before being subdued again. Well, if she had her swords that is.

The swords still glowed brightly beneath the sewage at far end of the hallway. But the distance was too great. She was fast but she’d never make it to them before Dumpus and its minions got to her.The horrible liquid spread wide across the floor, growing each second, the sound of open faucets and backed up toilets in the background. The sound of rushing water flowing from the bathroom, spilling across the hallway, flowing down the stairwell. It wouldn’t be long before some curious employee followed the trail of water back to the horrible battle.

Dumpus pulled back its tentacles as if building up energy. Maygan saw this and prepared her body for the blow. In a blur the tentacles shot forth, striking her in the chest, the force launching her body through the air, hitting hard against the wall behind her. Her body lay in the water, unmoving.

Rushing water. It reminds me of…

And then there was nothingness.

* * * *

The constant roar of water lulled Maygan into a near catatonic state as she sat cross-legged at the Pool of Remembrance. She watched as the waterfalls of Do Zen cascaded down the cliffs from the higher levels of Sanctuary, the white turbid water misting the jagged stones that guided the water to the crystal pool. Hints of her jet black hair hung down beneath her hat, the brim pulled down to keep the hot sun from her face. Splayed out on the green grass were a number of items placed upon a worn cloth. These were the few possessions from her life before Sanctuary that the monks allowed: a palm-sized mirror of tarnished silver that belonged to her mother; an iron dagger of intricate design from her father’s expansive collection; a small leather-bound book of Aesop’s Fables; her hornbook for learning her letters. Mementos of the life she lived before she was sent to Sanctuary.

Her shoulder throbbed with a deep soreness. There was no wound but she rubbed her skin hard hoping to massage away the pain. She studied a line of peculiar river stones placed in the grass beside her. Painted on each were the numbers: 88, 87, 86, 85. She traced a finger over each wondering what purpose they served. Paint from the number 85 came off in her hand, still not completely dry.

She meditated, but her anxious mind pulled her toward her predicament. She steadied her breath but her heart raced as her mind skipped through her past like a stone across the water. The past had a gravity her untrained mind could not escape.

There were many things Maygan did not understand about Sanctuary but one thing was certain: although there were no visible bars or chains, it was her prison. But now she was the only one left in the prison. She was completely alone. Everyone had fled.

“Maygan!”

Well, almost everyone.

Clouds of thought parted from her mind as if waking from a vivid dream. She spotted Master Ko at the edge of the second tier of Sanctuary, pacing precariously at the edge of the precipitous cliffs. He stopped and leaned heavily upon his cane at the edge of the cliffs, shouting her name once again. He held the pose as if waiting for an answer. But this time he appeared to be staring directly at her. Maygan shook her head as she knew he definitely did not see her.

She loathed the little man but as he moved ever closer to the edge of the cliff she was surprised to feel her heart race, a lump form in her throat. She opened her mouth to call out a warning, to prevent herself from becoming truly alone.

She hesitated. The words from her heart remained locked away by her mind. A whisper of cruel calculations that could lead to her freedom. The truth would remain hidden and she could slip away to begin life again as something else. Something she did no resent.

Her eyes squeezed shut and her jaw clenched. Perhaps her mother was right. Maygan’s soul was pulled from darkness and shadow leaving no hope of redemption. Was she even worth the two aging cows the monks traded for the brooding child now hoping for harm on another?

The old man moved away from the edge and with deliberate tapping of his cane found the earthen staircase that zig zagged precariously to the ground below. The students called the stone staircase the Path of the Sure Footed, a narrow, broken path that connected the upper and lower tiers of Sanctuary. Maygan didn’t know if it had an official name but it seemed appropriate as one small mistake on the narrow stairs might create an empty seat at the lunch table. Piles of rocks lay at the base of the stairs where steps had fallen suggesting tragedy in the past. Master Ko navigated the treacherous stairway by tapping his cane and then moving one tentative sandaled foot at a time. Maygan’s heart slowed and her relief came as a surprise.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The slow pace gave her time to find the courage needed for the words she had thought so much about. The sentences she had rehearsed in her mind every day for weeks. The sounds were sure to anger the old man and that frightened her. On her first day at Sanctuary, the other students warned her about Master Ko’s short fuse. But he looked so frail and weak that she could not believe the stories to be true. It didn’t take long to learn the truth: an angry dragon hid inside the diminutive, wrinkled old fart. Sleep was lost fearing how this dragon would react when she told him that, like the rest of the students, she was leaving Sanctuary.

Maygan held the loosely tied pack containing her belongings and waited for Master Ko at the bottom of the stairs. With each stair conquered, her anxiety rose. Maygan grew up with men like Master Ko. They were master manipulators playing the part of wisened sage, exploiting the weak and simple in the towns where they roamed. A steady wind of vagaries and platitudes blew from their mouths, convincing enough morons to loosen their purse strings. But while those old men were mostly harmless, Master Ko left a trail of broken bodies. Ja, a fellow student at sanctuary, told Maygan stories that she dismissed outright, too outrageous to believe. Ja rolled up his sleeves and supported his tale with a violent landscape of black bruises and deep cuts.

Did her teacher know she was there waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs? Should she signal him in some way so she didn’t frighten him? Should she keep her mouth shut? “Master Ko, please be careful on the stairs,“ she shouted. He made no acknowledgment of hearing her and continued down the staircase at a snail’s pace.

When at last he reached the last stair and stood before her, his arm shot out from behind his loose robe in a blur of motion. A sharp pain upon her left arm stole any words from her mouth except for “shit!” Master Ko held in his hand the infamous wooden switch, the Curator, and positioned it as if about to strike once more. Maygan backed away, rubbing her arm where the Curator struck hard, looking at her hand for signs of blood. She wanted more than anything to grab that damn stick from his hands and snap it in half. Maybe throw the pieces into his face. What now old man?

“Maygan I was looking for you. We must prepare for the festival,” Master Ko said smacking his dry lips over his toothless mouth. “There isn’t much time.”

“But Master, everyone is gone,” she said, still rubbing her arm. The old bastard could hit hard. “Something foul is around us. We should leave this place.”

“‘Leave’ she says, hmph,” he grumbled. “We cannot leave. We are bound to the Fascia. We must protect it.”

“Protect it? I don’t even know what it is. You won’t let me in that damn cave,” she said defiantly.

“The Fascia is everything.”

“Do you ever talk directly? What’s in the cave? What is so important?” Her body shook as each word grew louder.

“The Fascia is the reason you are here. Why you are you, standing in front of your teacher, being ungrateful. Disrespectful. I knew you would only be trouble. Both too young and too late. If I had a choice I would have sent you away.”

“What’s in the cave,” she shouted, her posture aggressive.

“That is an answer to be earned,” he said evenly as if reciting a passage from a book.

“But-“

“But nothing,” he shouted. He readied the Curator for another strike. Maygan saw the subtle movement of his body and reflexively assumed a defensive posture. She was ready for it. Her eyes said what now old man. Try me. Master Ko must have sensed this for she saw his feet adjust to counter her counter. There were no witnesses to what might happen. No one to judge how Maygan might lash out at the feeble old timer who subjected her to what most people considered torture. She couldn’t control her breath, the first point of training. If she couldn’t control her breathing, would she lose all control? Was her mother right about her?

She dipped her head, ready to strike if she must. “Master Ko, I’m leaving Sanctuary. Do not try to stop me,” she growled.

But there was no reply from the old man. No snort, no curses, no swat from the Curator.

Maygan raised her head again to watch him and saw he stared absently across the water as if listening to a voice that wasn’t there. When his eyes returned to hers, she saw the clouds of disarray, the shadow of confusion which left him in darkness. His face softened as his eyes searched for the familiar in a suddenly unfamiliar world. His vessel was adrift with no sign of shore. No anchor to stop the tide taking him further out to sea.

Maygan watched this transformation but said nothing. She did not know the real Master Ko, who he might have been long ago. The only the version of her teacher was the one that walked the grounds absentmindedly shouting at ghosts. She trained with the man that could not see a foot in front of his face. She cooked for the man with no teeth that would starve were it not for the soft food she prepared.She offered a hand for the man whose balance had become unsteady. Master Ko was not the man he once was and it was of no fault of his own. A wave of guilt crashed over her, drowning her idea of leaving Sanctuary before it had a chance to reach the surface.

The clouds parted from Ko’s eyes, revealing a small spark of recognition, as if Ko had been away for years and suddenly found himself in the company of an old friend. “Maygan,” he said weakly.“Maygan, did you say something? Speak up girl.”

But the softness of his face regained its rigidity and his eyes grew cold once again. “Maygan,” he said with returned strength. “We have much to do and you are late.” She saw his body move and knew what was coming. But she made no move. Curator came down hard across her left arm leaving a burning red mark. But Maygan made no sound.

“I’m sorry Master Ko. Let us begin our work,” she said.

“Yes, yes.” He turned to walk back up the treacherous stairway from which he had just traveled. But he stopped and turned his head to speak without looking at Maygan. “The new moon comes soon. The festival is near. We must be ready.”

He straightened as if summoning strength from within. Maygan wondered if his awareness had fully returned as it sometimes did. It was as if his senses took in information around him, but his mind wasn’t always available to process it. Ko searched as if expecting something to appear to him from the emptiness of Sanctuary. Upon not finding it he added “and we must protect the Fascia. With our lives if necessary.”