44. Gathering

Arjun kowtowed before the elders, waiting patiently as his merits were discussed openly. As were his faults. He winced each time the latter list grew longer, and he soon lost count. He was too distracted from his cultivation and studies. He was too interested in socializing with his peers. He was weak. He had bowed out of the tournament too early. He …

The list went on and on and on.

The lamps flickered as they moved on to the next candidate. A girl three years younger than him, she was only in the energy gathering realm. He heard nothing but praises in comparison to the scolding he’d gotten.

The next. A nine year old boy who quivered with the agony of holding the kowtow for so long.

Five more candidates.

There were no conditions upon the selection of the candidate except that they could not have reached the bronze stage. Unfortunately in Arjun’s Sect, the Azure Wind Sect, disciples were expected to make a pilgrimage once they turned nineteen and not return until they reached the bronze path, which meant that the candidate pool was mostly younger than Arjun himself. He’d only had a few months before he was expected to begin his own journey when he’d been selected to join the expedition to investigate the strange weather, and then everything that had followed had taken precedence.

Meaning that Arjun was the most advanced of the young cultivators who could possibly benefit from the opportunity that they had earned by extending a branch to Hien Ro, but that didn’t mean that he would be selected. The girl to his left had more talent, and--

“We have made a selection,” the elders said after several moments of decision.

Arjun did not raise his head, though he was surprised. He sensed that several of the other juniors had not had such self control.

“Arjun, you will represent the Azure Wind Sect in this opportunity,” the elder said.

Arjun bit his lip to keep from crying out in joy.

“Do you know why we have selected you?” the elder persisted.

He ran through the possible reasons and selected the one that was most likely.

“Because I am friends with Yara Pocef, who is Hien Ro’s girlfriend, and is herself a student of Po Guah,” he guessed.

“Yes.”

~~~~~~

“Lahri, do you know why I have asked you here?” the elder asked, her voice not unkind.

Lahri looked around at the elder’s private chambers, reflecting on some of the rumors she’d heard about this elder in particular. If they were true, then she’d consent. It would be worth it for whatever resources she could get out of the relationship. And it wouldn’t be so bad. She preferred men, but surely--

“It seems that you do not, judging by your expression. Honestly, a single youthful indiscretion and you’re a lesbian for life,” the elder muttered.

Lahri blushed. “I apologize, I meant noth—”

“You meant nothing, but you were considering accepting, yes? So that at least is a little flattering. No, Lahri, I would not call you here for that when I know that your heart lies elsewhere. In two different places if I’m not mistaken.”

Lahri blushed. “Is that why you’ve called me here? Am I to make up my mind? Farun or Arjun, or another that the sect selects for me?”

“No. It is much more straightforward than that. I am sending you into the care of another for one year. You are to obey them implicitly and follow their training with utter diligence. In exchange, Po Guah has promised to raise you to the silver path.”

Lahri’s eyebrows rose. “The silver? Not the bronze?”

“So he claims. We are eager to see if this is possible, so we are sending some of our best students to him. It is only a year, after all. But I do not know who the other sects are sending. If you wish to turn it down to be with Arjun, or with Farun, then I—”

“I want to go,” Lahri said with determination. “If they don’t wait for me then that’s their problem.”

~~~~~~

The light flashed as the two techniques collided, and while they were equally matched in strength, Farun’s will was the stronger. He wanted this more. He needed this more. His long term rival, who had been so smug at the beginning of the tournament, had a look of utter shock as his own technique fell apart and his Qi exploded, sending him flying into the sand several feet away.

Farun exhaled in relief, then inhaled triumph. He had won this little tournament of the elders and whatever spoils they offered, which were said to be a ‘once in a generation opportunity, or perhaps even more rare than that.’

Farun knew, of course. He’d already rewarded the little mortal girl who had handed him the note preparing him for this turn of events. He was to be gone a year, so it was a handsome reward, with a promise of more when he got back. He also tipped the boy who’d actually gotten the secrets from spying on the elders, surprising the boy who hadn’t realized that Farun was among the list of those within his little intelligence spreading circle.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Farun grinned. For all that the Golden Dragon Sect valued strength above all, information was the true power in this world, and simply knowing what he was fighting for had given him a purpose beyond what his peers could conjure up for themselves.

But he played his part and acted surprised when the elders lined up the participants in the tournament to announce the grand prize.

It had not been a tournament like the one that the city had just held, but limited to a single attack. The ultimate attack of their sect, the Golden Dragon’s Maw. Only eight disciples could perform it who were not already in the bronze realm. Fortunately Farun had been practicing it extensively over the weeks since he’d withdrawn from the other tournament, and he had established from the start that he would not be bowing out early.

As he stood in front of his peers, the elder patted his shoulder. “Yes, you were very clever. If I did not tell the little pigeons what the prize was, however, would you have fought so hard for it?” the elder asked, and Farun’s eyes shot up.

“You knew I knew?” he asked.

“Everyone knew what the prize was. Or they would have if they put any effort into finding it out,” the elder informed him. “I do not know what circuit the information took between my lips and your ear, but I set the compound’s rumor mill going deliberately.”

“I see,” Farun said. “This too is a source of power. Information is power, and control of information is control of power.”

“Yes. You are a fine candidate for this opportunity, Farun, and I am pleased that you won. Now go pack.”

“I already have.”

~~~~~~

Lukal Lukal sat with his master before the fire as the boar was roasted. His fellow disciples, younger and older both, sat nearby, waiting for the feast to begin. The light of the fire cast long shadows into the night, and the clearing flickered with the steady but ever-changing firelight.

“Someone tell a story,” one of the youngest disciples demanded.

“You tell a story,” his sister said in a mocking tone.

“I don’t have the right to tell the good ones,” the boy complained. “Lukal Lukal, tell us again of Po Guah. Tell us how he was so mighty that he faced ten warriors as fierce as you and—”

“You do not get to tell a story by asking for a story,” the master said sternly. “Lukal Lukal, do you wish to tell the story of Po Guah?”

Lukal Lukal considered the question for a moment. He enjoyed having earned the right to telling a story before the fire in times like this. It was one of the main reasons he had journeyed into the city to take part in the tournament. He had expected to come back with many stories, but the younger disciples only wish to hear the story of Po Guah.

“Let someone else tell a story tonight,” Lukal Lukal said after careful consideration.

A stranger walked into the clearing and sat nearby.

“Might anyone tell a story?” the stranger asked, sitting next to one of the children who was still learning how to hold a spear.

The children of the camp’s eyes went wide, turning to the Master and the older disciples. Some of the older disciples scurried for their spears, but stopped when the Master said “You are welcome at this fire, Elder One.”

“Thank you,” the stranger said, and in the firelight Lukal Lukal saw that it was not a stranger.

“Hello again Po Guah. It is good of you to come.”

“Might anyone tell a story at this fire?” Po Guah asked again.

“So long as the story is good and true and it is a story that you have lived,” the Master said. “If you tell a bad story then we will throw pebbles at you.”

Po Guah was quiet for a moment. “Let me tell you the story of how I earned my name,” he said.

The story he told was profound, but the children threw pebbles at him until the older disciples scolded them and told them to go think on the story in solitude.

Once the children were gone, the Master sat before the fire and sighed.

“It is pleasant to meet you again in this life, Elisia,” Lukal Lukal’s master said.

“You too, Koras. I am surprised that you remember me.”

“That is not my name in this life.”

“Elisia is not my name in this life either.”

“Still, it is good to meet an old friend.”

“It is,” Po Guah – no, Little Bug – said.

“Our fates only intersect this one time in this life,” the Master said.

“You are dying.”

“Yes.”

“It was a good raft to get you so far across the river Lethe that you kept half your memories,” the stranger said.

“Not the memories I wanted to have,” the master said.

“But perhaps the memories you needed,” Po Guah said.

The master sighed. “You are here to take my favorite disciple, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Po Guah said.

“Take him. He is yours. Lukal Lukal, Little Bug is your Master now.”

“Are you kicking me away from your fire?” Lukal Lukal asked.

“With an empty belly? That would be rude.”

And so they ate together, and listened as their elders told stories from another world.

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