Cor spun Ix’s ring around his thumb and gestured to the meditation mats in the center of the room. After sitting down next to each other, they brought their fists together and Hudson quickly pulled them into his mindscape with his qi technique.
“Well, it’s clear that woman is desperate,” Cor said. “Really plucking at straws, asking a Qi Gathering cultivator to help with a Core Formation cultivator.”
“She was so sincere it was hard to tell her ‘no,’ but could I actually be of any help? The whole thing seems needlessly risky too, for no specific return,” Hudson added.
“There need not be excessive risk in this endeavor,” Ix chimed in. “We may be able to assist, and we may also have a better understanding of the nature of the problem.”
Sure, Ix had been able to suppress the mind slugs in Cor’s head, but this problem was something that had knocked out a Core Formation cultivator.
“Are you sure you’re that strong?” Hudson asked.
“It is not a matter of strength, but of knowledge. You are correct to assume that we cannot overpower a silicate consciousness or group of silicate consciousnesses strong enough to incapacitate a Core Formation cultivator, but we do not believe that is the issue at hand,” Ix replied. “It is far more likely that this cultivator, Mopul’rii’sfun’ge, during the course of whatever attack brought him low or during the subsequent ‘cleansing,’ has suffered a grievous injury to his cultivation.”
That sounded less dangerous. Using Ix’s knowledge to play cultivation doctor was a different story.
“The most critical statement was ‘part of his mind… we are unable to reach.’ That could only be the case in a few examples, none of which require the active interference of a foreign consciousness.”
“Of course, we are not certain in our assessment,” Ix continued. “The worst case is that his original will is completely gone, subsumed by foreign attacks, and only remains a danger to others.”
“So what are you suggesting we do for Mofo or Mopo or whatever his name was?” Cor asked. “Daggonit I keep having trouble with these names.”
“Our path is clear to us,” Ix said, “but we also recognize we are not alone and bear a great burden of debt to cultivators Cor and Hudson.
“We were bound for so long and in so many ways by the strictures of the Disciples that we do not wish to see any other life form’s free will bound so. We see the most likely possibility of Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s condition as a man whose mind was separated from the base of his own cultivation, trapping his consciousness inside of himself and with no way out.”
“Like trapped in a coma, but aware of everything going on around him?” Hudson asked.
“That is the most likely situation.”
“I still don’t like it,” Cor said. “I don’t mind helping Mop Bucket if we can, and I’m always up for fighting the silicates, wherever that battle may be. But it still seems risky, without a guarantee of a reward.”
Hudson took a moment to weigh the options.
“I’m also not sure if it’s worth it, but Ix has been helping us out a lot, and they really want to do this,” he finally said. “So I vote we help.”
“Alright then,” Cor said. “Hudson – you’re more advanced with the mindscape stuff, so you grab the ring and help Ix if needed. I’ll watch y’all’s back while ya do your mindscape surgery on Mopey.”
“Mopul’rii’sfun’ge,” Ix corrected. “In the Lurill’shan culture, honorifics are added to names based on cultivation strength and service to their social unit. The initial syllables are the personal name, although ‘Mopul’ can be loosely translated as ‘son of Mo,’ and then–”
“So… Mo Junior,” Cor interjected.
“.....”
“Just don’t call him that to his face,” Hudson said wearily.
…..
Mopul’rii’sfun’ge floated in the center of a small room. He was wrapped in what looked like a straight jacket stitched with tiny, incomprehensible sigils. Fastenings extended from the arms and legs and secured to hooks on the walls of the rooms. The stark white walls and the different colored tubes connecting machines on the walls to portions of the straight jacket gave the room a sterile feeling.
Tor’le’su floated on the edge of the small room, leaving the space next to Mopul’rii’sfun’ge open. The guard, or nurse or attendant, a body cultivator with two tassels floating off of her elbows, hadn’t said a word to any of them, and had only exchanged a glance with Tor’le’su before leaving the room.
Were they not supposed to be here? They hadn’t told Xith’le’so or anyone else where they were going; they had just followed Tor’le’su after making their decision.
Cor parked himself with his back to a wall where he could see the full room and the single entrance, and nodded over at Hudson.
Everyone was strangely quiet, which made Hudson nervous. He pushed the nerves down and swam to the center of the room.
Hudson had learned it was difficult to judge a cultivator’s age, but the deep crease lines in Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s face betrayed either a long life or a life of worry. He reached out his hand – the one now wearing Ix’s ring – and placed it on the Core Formation cultivators head.
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He closed his eyes and sunk into a light meditation while he waited for Ix’s initial assessment. He had been looking forward to inspecting a Core Formation cultivator’s qi flows, but Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s form was mostly hidden from his qi sense by the restraints holding him in place.
“We require your assistance,” Ix spoke into Hudson’s mind. “There is no immediate danger.”
“I’m going in,” Hudson told Cor, before activating his Mind Gate technique and sinking into his mindscape. Things were looking much better around his yard these days, Hudson thought with satisfaction. Lots of progress in fixing his mindscape in a short amount of time.
“What’ve you found out so far?” Hudson called out.
“Our hypothesis was mostly correct,” Ix’s voice came from his backyard. “You may see for yourself.”
Hudson walked into the connection that Ix had formed with his mind – a simple room of metallic walls, floor and ceiling. There was a hole in the center of the wall on the left, and Hudson gazed through it at the mindscape of the Core Formation cultivator.
The Lurill’shan cultivators were clearly water-focused, to no surprise – they could breathe under water, and lived on a planet that was mostly oceans. With the possible exception of Tchae’rii, who had used wind techniques, every qi cultivator and body cultivator Hudson had seen on this planet had been focused on water.
The only thing Hudson could see in Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s mindscape was solid, white ice. It was difficult to gain a perspective on the size or disposition of the mindscape.
“Is that normal?” Hudson asked. “The other Lurill’shan mindscapes seem to be small bodies of water. Is his mindscape just frozen?”
“It is frozen, in a conceptual and literal sense, but no, it is not normal,” Ix said. “We hypothesize that the function of this ice is a defensive mechanism, but it is now one from which Cultivator Mopul’rii’sfun’ge is unable to deactivate.”
“Makes sense I suppose…So what do you need my help with?”
“Melting the ice. Cultivator Hudson is uniquely qualified to assist.”
“Ah… yes, I think I know where you’re going with that…” Hudson said, then began to busy himself around his mindscape.
It took a decent amount of time, but Hudson was eventually ready. He popped out of his mindscape, told Cor the rough plan so that he would be ready in case things went sideways.
Back inside the metallic room, he paused after hoisting the bundle of roots that he had dug up and pulled off the walls of his house. They connected all the way to the oak tree in his yard, but unlike regular tree roots, they were soft and supple, and not rigid.
“Is Cultivator Hudson ready to proceed?” Ix asked.
“Yes, I’m just struggling with what it is I am actually doing,” Hudson replied. “This mindscape stuff doesn’t seem real… but at the same, it seems more real than reality. Does that make sense?”
“We do not understand your confusion,” Ix said. “Cultivator Hudson has constructed the shape and function of his own mindscape; its foundations are formed from your subconscious understanding of what a mindscape should be. There should be no confusion.”
“Never mind,” Hudson said. “Let’s get on with this.”
He threaded the roots through the window until they pressed against the barrier of ice.
“Please retreat into your own mindscape before activating your sigils,” Ix said after Hudson was finished. “We do not believe there will be any reaction or danger, but it is still a possibility. If there is, we will sever the connection between your minds.
Hudson returned to his own mindscape, and with a force of will, brought his sigils to bear. It was surprisingly easy; as if it required less effort to release them than to keep them bottled up.
The oak tree grew in size, its branches creaking upwards towards a dark and reddened sky. Flames appeared on the tree, roaring to the sky but failing to consume the wood beneath it. The roots followed, smoldering and burning, the ones still attached to his house spreading their flame to the walls and roof, the ones dipping into Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s mindscape also burning.
“Is it working?” Hudson called out. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see around the corners to view the effect of his burning roots on the Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s ice.
“Very slowly, but yes, your sigil of flame is effective,” Ix replied. “If Cultivator Mopul’rii’sfun’ge was still connected to his base of cultivation, he would be able to resist easily, but he is not. Now we must hope that his consciousness has not been subsumed as well.”
Minutes passed and the flames continued to burn. Standing in his mindscape and watching the flames lick across the walls and roof of his house, Hudson grew more and more irritated. That irritation only fed the flames, boosting them hotter and higher.
He’d spent the past few weeks mastering the First Form, rebuilding his mindscape, and seeing gradual improvements. All of those little things that looked better in his mindscape were now literally going up in smoke.
“How much longer?” Hudson eventually called out. “I’m starting to feel it.”
“We are approximately 90% through the barrier of ice,” Ix replied.
He wasn’t lying; his irritation had been replaced with a general feeling of unwellness. A very gradual, creeping exhaustion or malaise – almost certainly caused by his prolonged use of his sigils.
When Ix finally called out for Hudson to stop, it was a relief. He exerted his will, but found it very difficult to move. The flames licked stubbornly higher; almost as if they had a will of their own. He dug deep – this was his own mindscape! – and stubbornly bid the searing pattern, the twists and turns of the sigil pattern, to dissipate.
Thread by thread they gradually unwound and faded away from his consciousness. He almost panted from the effort. Every time he activated his sigils, it became harder and harder to deactivate them.
A problem that replenishing his jing (or advancing his cultivation) was supposed to solve. He now had doubts that would be enough.
He shook the gloomy thoughts off and walked into Ix’s metallic room to see the results of his efforts.
After pulling the roots back through the window and out of the way, he could see a hole melted through the ice. Approximately man-sized, and dripping with melted water. The ice was thick, and the tunnel meandered slightly, but Hudson could see the edge of the ice deep inside the other cultivator’s mind.
“What now?” Hudson asked.
“We have not heard a response from Cultivator Mopul’rii’sfun’ge,” Ix said. “If we truly wish to know his fate conclusively… You must now venture inside his mindscape.”