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The Power Cycle [Vol 2: The Aether Sword]
18. Alassi - Awakening, Part 6

18. Alassi - Awakening, Part 6

The next morn­ing, Lui came to Alas­si's room ear­ly, look­ing un­com­fort­able. "Grand­ma..." the girl looked at her earnest­ly. "I think Mian is com­ing back, and oth­ers are with him."

Sobon took that for the warn­ing it was. Af­ter ris­ing and hav­ing a de­cent break­fast, Sobon linked with the de­fense sys­tem, along with an­oth­er pat­tern she had en­graved on an old bro­ken mop broom han­dle, which she con­cealed in the back of her blouse. It was only a pro­to­type--a hand­held bar­ri­er in the shape of a blade, pow­ered by left-hand aether, with an­oth­er sim­ple can­non script cov­er­ing the bot­tom end of it, like the one she had used on the pi­rate ship, ca­pa­ble of left or in­ner fir­ing. Sobon hoped there would be no need for it, but she hadn't the slight­est trust for any­one in this world. For sim­i­lar rea­sons, Sobon spun up her dy­namos, col­lect­ing as much thread as she could, and prepar­ing them for what­ev­er may be com­ing.

By the time sev­er­al fig­ures came up the road, Sobon was con­vinced that her prepa­ra­tions were not mere­ly para­noid. Among the fig­ures, Alas­si rec­og­nized only two--Mian, who was bound and dragged along by one of the guards, and an old­er man in a def­er­en­tial po­si­tion that Alas­si rec­og­nized as the city leader of the town Mian had gone to. At the lead was a younger man with his aura blaz­ing--al­though Sobon not­ed that the aether geom­e­try of it seemed wrong for the num­ber and col­or of stars he was dis­play­ing. To his right was a man who held him­self se­vere­ly, and who was most­ly cov­ered in var­i­ous pieces of heavy cloth, in­clud­ing all of his face but his eyes, eyes that locked onto Sobon in­stant­ly.

That body­guard, since that must be what he was, had a lev­el of qi Sobon had not seen yet--well above the man who he es­cort­ed. It was a firm qi, but it had a strange qual­i­ty to it, shed­ding mul­ti­ple col­ored hues with­out be­ing the gem­like, opales­cent sheen that Sobon re­called from the reaper's scythe. Sobon wasn't sure where to rank him, and nei­ther did Alas­si--al­though they both agreed, word­less­ly, that he was above their lev­el. Ac­cord­ing to Alas­si, he was in a 'realm' above her--hav­ing passed out of the less­er met­als and into the greater ones, al­though Sobon didn't pry into the de­tails.

Be­hind the no­ble--or what­ev­er he was--was one group of sol­diers, and be­hind the town leader was an­oth­er. With­out a doubt, the young no­ble had the stronger and bet­ter equipped group of guards, but both groups had enough to cause trou­ble for a group of nor­mal peo­ple--or, if their in­ten­tions were pure, enogh to lead the refugees away safe­ly. Some­how, Sobon doubt­ed it was the last.

The no­ble and his body­guard called their rid­ing beasts to a stop well into the clear­ing where the inn sat, and he sneered at Sobon, ini­tial­ly dis­re­gard­ing her. "Let the war­rior who slew the in­no­cent mer­chants I hired step foward! On my hon­or, I will see jus­tice done!"

Sobon's spir­it re­mained even as she stepped for­ward. "They were no in­no­cent men," she said, ig­nor­ing the many and pan­icked in­stincts from Alas­si to bow down be­fore the man.

The young no­ble raised his head to look down his nose at Sobon. "You? A pa­thet­ic woman was the one who killed my dear mer­chant friends?"

"They were slavers," Sobon said, keep­ing her eyes more on the body­guard, who as yet had shown no de­sire to move.

"You shall not call my friends such things, and you shall bow be­fore this young mas­ter!" With his last words, the no­ble en­forced an aether wave, one that pressed down on every­one be­fore him. Sobon, calm­ly, re­leased her right-hand aether dy­namos, re­sist­ing the wave with­out break­ing her pos­ture.

"When you are de­serv­ing of re­spect, you shall get it," Sobon replied, grim­ly.

As if notic­ing at last that Sobon was in­deed a war­rior, the no­ble leaped from his rid­ing beast--a horse, ac­cord­ing to Alas­si--and land­ed not five feet in front of her. Ar­ro­gant­ly, he laid hands on the sword at his waist, but only pushed it back slight­ly, rather than draw­ing it or rest­ing on the pom­mel. "I am of the no­ble house of Mofu," he said, "and I am worth more than your en­tire lin­eage com­bined. You will BOW!"

Even with the clos­er range, and more di­rect at­ten­tion, Sobon suf­fered the at­tack calm­ly, still keep­ing her eyes on the body­guard, who still showed no signs of act­ing.

"If I may, young mas­ter," the city lord stepped for­ward. Sobon hadn't even no­ticed him dis­mount­ing, and didn't par­tic­u­lar­ly think to care. "This woman is known as Alas­si, an old Witch of the west who served the Di­a­mond Lord for many years and was re­tired af­ter be­ing wound­ed."

"Oh, I see," the no­ble, sneered, and Sobon felt like dirty aether was be­ing spat out at him with the words. "So her dis­re­spect is not out of ig­no­rance, then. All the more rea­son why--"

"What ev­i­dence do you have," Sobon pro­ject­ed her voice with a touch of her body's qi, sim­ply be­cause she didn't know how to do it with raw aether. It made the no­ble flinch, just slight­ly, and kept all eyes on her. "that what I have said is false, and that these men were in­no­cent? Es­pe­cial­ly giv­en that the slaves they were car­ry­ing are still here and can ac­count for their own his­to­ry?"

The no­ble, at that, un­sheathed his sword and lev­elled it at Sobon's face. Sobon, her body still suf­fused with fresh aether, ticked up her body in­sincts a lev­el, watch­ing the sword com­ing in slow mo­tion just long enough to know that the move was a threat and not an at­tack. So, she re­leased the boost and al­lowed the sword to come to a stop inch­es from her face, keep­ing a calm ex­pres­sion.

"I swear on the house of Mofu that my words are true," he said with a snarl, "and I will fight to have sat­is­fac­tion from any­one who sug­gests oth­er­wise." With the last words, he re­leased some­thing in his spir­it--and as Sobon had guessed, his ap­par­ent qi lev­el rose from some mud­dled Sil­ver stars to three gold­en spikes. It was an im­pres­sive dis­play--es­pe­cial­ly since Sobon had nev­er reached gold­en qi yet, and had no cer­tain­ty about what that qi lev­el re­al­ly meant.

Alas­si, though, was con­fi­dent that she had no chance to fight, even though Sobon had bro­ken her spir­it into the Sil­ver range al­ready the evening be­fore--with an ac­com­pa­ny­ing ex­plo­sion of black sludge from her body, sim­i­lar to what Ki'el had un­der­gone af­ter the bat­tle on the pi­rate ship. Even with the fresh aether Sobon was bring­ing in slow­ly in­creas­ing her qi ca­pac­i­ty, it seemed to the old crone a lost cause. That... didn't mean all that much to Sobon, re­al­ly, but she not­ed it re­gard­less. It was a poor sol­dier that didn't at least lis­ten when oth­ers ex­pressed con­cern.

"You wish to duel me to prove my words false?" Sobon let her voice re­main calm, which was no small feat at this point in the con­flict. Not for the first or last time, she thought long­ing­ly about sim­pler times, when her body was a tech­no­log­i­cal pros­thet­ic loaded with aether weapon­ry, and not an eas­i­ly pro­voked sack of meat. Alas­si's body was re­act­ing to the high­er qi of her op­po­nent, even with Sobon flush­ing it out with pure aether. And al­though it pan­icked Alas­si to hear the words come out of her mouth, Sobon con­tin­ued, "Such a pa­thet­ic ex­cuse for jus­tice."

Giv­en the re­ac­tions of sev­er­al peo­ple around, that was the worst thing Sobon could have said, no mat­ter how much she might be­lieve it.

"Bold of you. Very well," said the young no­ble, with­dr­waing his sword. "If you can en­dure three strikes from this young mas­ter, I will for­give the deaths of my sworn broth­ers. And if you can­not..." Sobon could tan­gi­bly feel the no­ble's at­ten­tion as it wan­dered across her body, set­tling on the very few places that in­ter­est­ed the young man. "You will serve me, for the rest of your life."

Sobon con­sid­ered, study­ing the qi of the no­ble to the best of her abil­i­ty. Af­ter a mo­ment, she nod­ded. "I will agree, as long as the... young mas­ter agrees to also take one strike from me."

Pre­dictably, the no­ble threw his head back and laughed, dirty qi leak­ing into his voice, the black tar­like aether splat­ter­ing on those who heard it. "Take a blow from you? A re­tired, crip­pled sil­ver cul­ti­va­tor?" Some­how, de­spite hav­ing a sword in his hand and rel­a­tive­ly nar­row sleeves, the man shucked him­self out of his shirt, ex­pos­ing his bare chest, and threw his arms out wide. "I in­vite it! Take your best shot, you pa­thet­ic ex­cuse for an old hag!"

Sobon stud­ied the man even as she reached for her hid­den im­ple­ment. She saw the body­guard sif­f­en as she found the broom han­dle, but when she re­vealed it as noth­ing more than a length of wood, he re­laxed, as did those in the no­ble's guard.

The no­ble him­self found him­self un­able to look down on Sobon any hard­er than he al­ready was, and sim­ply stood there, gloat­ing and en­joy­ing his last mo­ments in the sun.

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Sobon could ack­owledge, though, that the qi lay­ers around the young no­ble's body were thick, and an­oth­er aether field pro­ject­ed out­wards, form­ing a bar­ri­er that would dull any at­tack. The pi­rate cap­tain had some­thing sim­i­lar--be­tween the two, he had tanked a tru­ly dead­ly blow to the head, sur­pris­ing Sobon, and she had no rea­son to think the man be­fore her was less pro­tect­ed.

How­ev­er, Sobon was con­cerned with the over­all struc­ture of the man's aether, and if he had guessed cor­rect­ly, it had a glar­ing weak­ness that he doubt­ed any of the lo­cals would grasp. It was the sort of thing that Sobon him­self was poor­ly trained in--a Fairy of the Mixed Marines would know bet­ter the ins and outs of per­son­al aether, but Sobon was most­ly sure that there was one spot in par­tic­u­lar where the man's aether cir­cu­lat­ed back in af­ter ex­press­ing the out­er shield.

So Sobon ac­ti­vat­ed the sword-pro­jec­tion bar­ri­er over her stick, then care­ful­ly, and sub­tly, lay­ered a sin­gle thread of her own aether along the edge of the weapon. Then, with the no­ble still grand­stand­ing, she moved for­ward, only to duck and turn, spin­ning in an awk­ward way in or­der to force the blade into the out­er bar­ri­er from a cer­tain spot, with a cer­tain an­gle.

Those watch­ing no­ticed his qi shiv­er with the blow, but saw noth­ing else. The blade not only didn't pen­e­trate his flesh--it wasn't even aimed at it.

But Sobon let her thread of qi get car­ried away into the no­ble's own aether, forc­ing it through at least one fil­ter or in­ter­nal de­fense, un­til it reached some spot deep with­in where the man's aether was gath­ered. When she reached it, Sobon stepped away, spin­ning up an In-flow aether dy­namo and press­ing it into the can­non script, tar­get­ting the spot in the aether that her own aether thread had just reached.

Un­like the bar­ri­er pro­jec­tion, the can­non script con­sumed enough en­er­gy to flash-char the broom han­dle, but Sobon sensed a pulse, and watched the no­ble's face flash with con­fu­sion... and fear.

"Hah!" One of the no­ble's guards was point­ing at Sobon, mock­ing­ly. "The witch doesn't even know how to use a broom, let alone a sword." There were oth­er voic­es of agree­ment, but Sobon only had eyes for the no­ble--and for this body­guard.

The lat­ter was just as con­cerned as the for­mer, but Sobon saw noth­ing in his face that in­di­cat­ed he was about to in­ter­fere.

The no­ble, though, reached up to grasp a spot in his chest which Sobon sup­posed must have been where the aether pool might have been, and his sword dropped limply from his fin­gers. "This bitch..." he mum­bled to him­self, only once, al­though Alas­si echoed a thought that she seemed to hear through her Qi core. ...she cracked my dant­ian!

Sobon, in prepa­ra­tion, brought up his makeshift bar­ri­er blade, and be­fore he was even ful­ly ready to block, the man had charged her, putting a wave of qi into a quick but dev­as­tat­ing punch that in­stant­ly knocked Sobon back ten feet or more. He was also charg­ing again, but Sobon ducked and moved into a dif­fer­ent po­si­tion, rais­ing the blade to block an­oth­er strike, which the man re­leased as a for­ward kick.

The blow sent Sobon clean through the door to the inn, which shat­tered into pieces, rain­ing shrap­nel in­side.

Sobon, though, was al­ready con­nect­ing to the sim­ple de­fense script she'd laid over the house, and she poured all of her own dy­namos into the reser­voir even as she ac­ti­vat­ed it. She hadn't yet done a full test--but the script was very sim­ple, at least in lay­out. She found her­self un­sur­prised when the bar­ri­er slipped into place at the out­side of the door­way.

Still, with her body's own qi and her dy­namos all with­in range of Sobon's mind, she found her­self stretched a bit thin, so she con­nect­ed the con­trols, such as they were, to her left hand, hold­ing it out to one side to re­mind him­self no to use it in com­bat. There wasn't much she could do, ex­cept raise and low­er the bar­ri­er, and chan­nel more en­er­gy in--but sep­a­ra­tion of du­ties was a sim­ple and nec­es­sary task when han­dling so many fac­tors at once.

The no­ble, with­out com­ment, charged the bar­ri­er, but clear­ly sensed it, and struck out at it with a gold­en fist, and then an­oth­er, and then two palm strikes. Each of them was a sig­nif­i­cant blow, but the sim­plic­i­ty of the bar­ri­er pat­tern be­lied a sim­ple truth: a pat­tern with a pure na­ture and pur­pose was more pow­er­ful and en­er­gy ef­fi­cient than a spoiled brat with a tem­per tantrum.

At least, one of a sim­i­lar pow­er, and Sobon was just close enough to the man's high­er lev­el of qi to be able to soak the blows with what she thought might be a three-to-two en­er­gy ra­tio. That means she was stil los­ing en­er­gy faster than him... blow for blow, at least.

There were many cries from out­side, of "Young mas­ter!" and the like, but Sobon stepped back to the door­way and looked out from just this side of the bar­ri­er, study­ing the no­ble's face. Un­like him, Sobon was still calm, al­though her pulse was rac­ing, and Sobon thought that Alas­si was at least a lit­tle ex­cit­ed to see the sweaty, mus­cled, half-naked man star­ing dag­gers at her. Not the kind of ex­cit­ed where she would will­ing­ly lose, or even re­spect the man--but in­ter­nal­ly, the woman liked what she saw.

Sobon... did not. "I be­lieve that was three blows," she said, sim­ply, rais­ing the bar­ri­er sword in her oth­er hand as though in warn­ing.

The city leader stepped for­ward, pro­ject­ing his voice. "Since you are from the west, Witch Alas­si, I will re­mind you that in these ar­eas, you are only al­lowed to use pat­terns that you laid dur­ing a duel or car­ry on your per­son. Even if you laid these en­grav­ings your­self, you still must take one more blow from Young Mas­ter Mofu to sat­is­fy the duel."

For what­ev­er rea­son, though, Mofu was al­ready charg­ing up an­oth­er at­tack. It was clear he was un­will­ing to ac­cept that the bar­ri­er was too strong for him to pen­e­trate--and Sobon knew that he was los­ing Aether through his wound­ed... dant­ian? What­ev­er the aether stor­age place was that Sobon had dam­aged in her at­tack. And she was sure she had done dam­age--the blow was less pow­er­ful than the one that has splat­tered the pi­rate cap­tain's head like over­ripe fruit, but then, Sobon hadn't tar­get­ted any part of his phys­i­cal body with it.

When us­ing in-flow to pow­er an at­tack like that, it passed like a ghost through many kinds of de­fens­es, reap­par­ing only at its tar­get, un­like the heavy beam that left aether fired out us­ing the same pat­tern. The Crestan Mil­i­tary had nev­er found a par­tic­u­lar­ly ef­fi­cient de­fense against those kinds of can­nons--and in­stead ded­i­cat­ed mul­ti­ple de­fense nodes to pro­duc­ing out-spin bar­ri­er fields, just in case. What­ev­er de­fens­es this young no­ble had against qi at­tacks, they did not re­spond to his sud­den and vi­o­lent at­tack, just as the pi­rate cap­tain didn't.

Still, he was alive, a kind­ness that Sobon was liv­ing to re­gret. In­stead of wor­ry­ing, Sobon over­charged the bar­ri­er on her blade, study­ing the young mas­ter as he poured what qi re­mained into his right hand.

"You will suf­fer for what you did to me, witch," the no­ble said, and his qi ra­di­at­ed the name of his at­tack, even as he lined up a knife­hand thrust. Sobon could feel the man's in­tent, as he pre­pared to pierce through the bar­ri­er around the house and straight into Sobon's skull.

Sobon raised the broom han­dle come bar­ri­er blade, point­ing the tip right through the pro­jec­tion of the war­rior's in­tent, and nod­ded at him.

[ Di­vine Blade Hand ]

The qi that fell in be­hind the at­tack was prob­a­bly greater than his three gold stars of raw qi po­ten­tial, Sobon would lat­er judge. It pierced into the inn's bar­ri­er, blow­ing at first a small hole in the bar­ri­er, and then forc­ing wave af­ter wave of cut­ting in­tent through widen­ing the gap over the course of per­haps a sec­ond, but no more than that, un­til there was more than enough room his arm to break through. And that is when Sobon, af­ter care­ful­ly lin­ing her­self up, re­leased the inn's bar­ri­er, point­ing the very tip of the bar­ri­er blade right down the cen­ter of the no­ble's pierc­ing blade hand.

By the time any­one else could see what had hap­pened, the no­ble's arm was split from fin­ger­tip to mid-bi­cep, the line of Sobon's blade hav­ing carved a per­fect­ly straight line through the blow. That was not on Sobon's skill, though, or not alone; Sobon had not swung the blade, or tak­en a step for­ward, only stood there with it ex­tend­ed in front of her.

The no­ble screamed, and for some rea­son that Sobon couldn't fath­om, in spite of all bi­o­log­i­cal sense, the man's qi-heavy blood sim­ply ex­plod­ed from the wound, scat­ter­ing out in quan­ti­ties that made very lit­tle, if any, sense. The young mas­ter stepped back, one arm try­ing to cra­dle the oth­er--but his right arm be­gan to fall into two pieces, and he twitched, like his nerves could not han­dle it.

Sobon only pieced to­geth­er the or­der of what fol­lowed, lat­er.

It was only af­ter the city leader said, "That counts as three blows, and so, the Witch Alas­si has won the duel." Only then did the young lord's body­guard spring into ac­tion, and al­though Sobon was still in a men­tal step-up, he could only bare­ly see the young lord be­ing pulled away to safe­ty with blood-red rags that ra­di­at­ed in­tense qi. By the time Sobon had processed the lord be­ing tele­port­ed back and away, the body­guard had wrapped his en­tire arm with ban­dages, and Sobon sensed com­plex work­ings of qi around the arm that were too un­fa­mil­iar for her to parse.

Sobon stepped for­ward, keep­ing her bar­ri­er blade at the ready, al­though the etch­ings on it had burned away at the wood af­ter tak­ing that blow, and she doubt­ed it would sur­vive more than an­oth­er strike. Still, the no­ble's guards tensed at the mere ex­is­tence of the blade, and that seemed enough.

The city leader was look­ing to the body­guard, though, and had af­fect­ed a more rigid, up­stand­ing pos­ture than be­fore. "Then, ac­cord­ing to the young mas­ter's own word, the house of Mofu has no ob­jec­tion to us pay­ing out a boun­ty and re­leas­ing the ac­cused."

The body­guard turned to him, ra­di­at­ing qi in­tent at a lev­el that Sobon her­self was un­sure she could have tak­en at that range, but packed it away af­ter only a mo­ment. And al­though he brought his qi re­lease back down to a rea­son­able lev­el, Sobon was still ter­ri­fied when the body­guard turned to­wards her, and tele­port­ed for­ward through a good fif­teen feet as though with a sin­gle step.

And the guard clasped his hands to­geth­er in a salute and bowed, his qi even.

"On be­half of the young mas­ter," he said, his voice deep and res­o­nant, "I thank the Mas­ter Alas­si for spar­ing his life, and af­firm that the terms giv­en by the young mas­ter will be up­held, on the hon­or of our fam­i­ly."

Sobon bare­ly had time to con­sid­er re­ply­ing, be­fore the man had loaded his lord up on his horse and was al­ready or­der­ing the rest of the fam­i­ly's per­son­al guards to form up and lead away.

Sobon was sur­prsied when the city leader made a noise, but the body­guard turned back.

"There is the mat­ter of the boun­ty," he said, try­ing his best to sound stern. "You re­call that in my of­fice, the young mas­ter--"

With­out an­oth­er word, the body­guard fetched a pouch of coins and threw it at the city lord's feet, and then they were gone.