55. Elsewhere

“Look at what you’ve done,” the ghost of Ko Si said, staring out at the empty fields and the dead city around them. There were people everywhere, and yet not a soul in sight.

Ko Ren ignored his sister’s ghost – her fragment, as the demon who had given him so much called her. Ko Si was dead, truly, but when he had strangled her, some parts of her mind and memory had slipped into that half of him which he had taken from her.

Killing her was supposed to have solved his problems, instead it had caused his body to begin decaying and his mind to go mad.

He’d solved that first problem at least. He flexed, feeling the undead strength coursing through him. His missing hand was even starting to grow back after the last magick that he’d coaxed out of the Demon’s jealous repository of knowledge.

He was at the peak of the Golden Path now. Stronger than he’d been when he’d killed Di Phon, stronger than any other on Atla. If he could only find the damn target, then he would solve everything by feeding Little Bug’s soul to the Demon.

He turned to his followers. Those who remained. He’d killed those who wouldn’t follow him willingly, and they had risen again. Loyal.

“Gather everyone,” he instructed. “Every man, woman, and child who has risen again. We march south.”

~~~~~~

“I understand your concerns,” Di Ram said calmly. “But this is not an invasion. We did not come as conquerors, but as refugees. We claimed land that was unclaimed and unwanted, and we beg for what scraps have been given us. Without my wife’s support I would not have made it as far as I have; my rag-tag group of survivors would still be crossing the great divide between north and south. Or we would be dead, and still crossing the great divide between north and south.

“We did not come as conquerors, but make no mistake that the conquerors come. Ko Ren and his undead army will—”

“We’ve only your word on the undead,” came one of the detractors who had agreed to this meeting. “How do we know that you’re telling the truth?”

Di Ram sighed. “Send your own scouts if you disbelieve the accounts of the survivors who returned. If you disbelieve that my wife’s mourning of her daughter is genuine. If you—”

“And how do we know that swearing the oaths is worth the price?” another detractor demanded. “This vault of knowledge you purport to possess, well, the Silent Mountain has is own library. It will take a lot to impress me that we’re not better off just using that.”

Di Ram nodded. “That is a valid point. And one that is easy to address. You may visit the Archive for one hour. My mortal assistants will escort you and show you the various tomes so that you may judge the wealth of knowledge that is being offered. I ask you to be patient with them, as they are still learning the southern languages.”

The detractors considered the offer, and agreed, and with a wave of his hand and a subtle manipulation of Qi, they were sucked into Di Ram’s storage ring. Di Ram sighed and rolled his shoulders. A mortal servant came forward to rub them, and he sighed in pleasure.

“After my ascension I feel twenty years younger and a thousand years older at the same time,” he muttered. “Why does gaining power complicate things instead of simplifying them?”

“I wouldn’t know my lord,” Po Sana said, continuing her massage. “Perhaps my son could answer your question. Has their been any word?”

“There are sightings of him all over the place, but nothing credible,” Di Ram admitted. “I am sorry, Po Sana. I wish that there was more to tell you than he was alive six months ago and gaining power rapidly. I believe that if anyone is going to survive the coming night, it will be him.”

“I believe you, my lord,” Po Sana said, reaching for some oil to really rub out the stress knots in her lord’s back.

“How is the rest of your family?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“They’re good. The little one is walking and beginning to talk. She’ll be normal, my lord. She’s nothing like Little Bug at all. More like her other brother than anything, and he’s as normal as a boy can be,” Po Sana said. “Do you think that Little Bug knows he has a second sister?”

“I cannot say,” Di Ram admitted, leaning forward and allow the massage to happen.

Ever since he had rescued them from their village, Di Ram had been keeping Little Bug’s family close at hand. It had simply seemed like the sort of thing he ought to do at first, but now that he’d actually thought about it, he had determined the reason for his instincts.

Blood magic.

If the enemy got hold of Po Sana, her children, or the father, then it would open up an entire list of terrible, terrible options for them to attempt to deal with Little Bug himself. Now that he had some inkling as to how important the Little Sage really was, he wasn’t willing to let the enemy, who had proven through their corruption to be capable of anything, to have such a weapon.

Besides, he thought, moaning a little in pleasure as she hit a particularly tense muscle. She had magic fingers.

The door opened, and a veiled woman came in. Po Sana tensed and stopped her massage, but she needn’t have. Di Ram had explained very clearly to his wife who Po Sana was, and Tonilla agreed that it was best to keep the mortal family of Little Bug close at hand.

“They are in the library?” she asked.

“Yes. It was just as you said. First they accuse us of invasion, then when we insist that we want only to stand fast against a common enemy, they demand to know what we bring to the table. All while refusing to believe that the threat is real.”

“These men are nothing if not predictable. But when they see the wealth that you brought south, whether you realized it or not at the time, they will understand that it is better to fall under the banner of the alliance than stand alone,” she predicted.

“I hope so. Has their been word of Sonilla?”

“Her message is the last contact we have with the group of scouts that we sent,” Tonilla said. She dabbed her eye through the veil. “I wish that I had time to simply mourn my daughter.”

“We don’t know for certain—”

“I know.”

Di Ram was silent, and then he nodded. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to imply that you should hold out false hope. We have both seen too much of this world to not be realists. At least she had a chance to say goodbye through the message construct.”

“Yes. At least that,” Tonilla agreed. “Now let us discuss how to manage those pig-headed fools once they finish gawking at the library.”

~~~~~~~

Adan Pocef stepped up to the palace and nervously stood at the gate for a few moments before the guards finally acknowledged him. He wasn’t dressed particularly well, but he was wearing the best clothes he owned. He’d been gambling again, and he was in debt again.

He had thought that if he could just get out of debt, everything would be fine. The cultivators had done that much, but then they’d also taken his daughter from him. She was better off with them, learning to cultivate and exploring a world that he would never see than drowning in an old man’s debt like him.

He snorted. He was only in his thirties, but he still felt like an old man. A foolish old man who had squandered his life.

“What do you want, peasant?” the guard finally asked when they acknowledged him.

“I’m wondering if the Raging River Sect has any word of my daughter, Yara Pocef. She is a companion of Po Guah.”

His words caused the guard to stiffen, then send a messenger to the main house. A few moments later, he was whisked off and interviewed by a young looking woman. He revealed his own status as a cultivator, although one who had started late in life and was only in the energy gathering stage, and he told the story of how he had been hired by Little Bug as a guide before Little Bug had become known as Po Guah, the Awakened Soul.

He could sense her intent upon him, and he could sense the truth-telling technique that she used on him as well. He didn’t care, he allowed it. When she was satisfied, she rose to give her report.

An hour later, he was served a meal.

An hour after that, he was told that they had not received word from Po Guah or any of the disciples who had left with him, but thanked him for inquiring.

Adan Pocef sighed and went back to the small room where he stayed and stared at the ceiling. He scratched at the tattoo on his back, and he wondered how much time he had left before Little Bug’s prediction of his death came true.

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