Seventh Wheel and Winding Wind took the lead as they left the meeting hall, their personal disciples nearly lockstep behind them. Then the martial disciples, some of them vaguely familiar to Lu, though not enough to name any aside from Mai Rong. And then behind them, Lu was joined by Bull and the trailing Bianyan of the Leaping Trout Sect.
All together they numbered seventeen, easily eclipsing the seven Unrelenting Vigour disciples that had left ahead of them. The six Elders did not look back, and Hoss’in Ra only gave a nod before making his way down the mountain behind them.
Winding Wind and Seventh Wheel stopped less then twenty metres from the hall, and the group formed a loose circle. After a moment where the men shared a look – Lu had to assume they were communicating telepathically – Seventh Wheel took the lead.
“It is likely that Elder White Knuckle will be held up for some time.” As if to punctuate his words, the area was once again bathed in the oppressive pressure of Patriarch Unrelenting Vigour’s spiritual sense. It was not nearly as intense as it had been indoors, but Lu still took an involuntary step away as the Elder continued. “But waiting idle while he confers would be a poor use of our time. As such, let us assume that he will be successful in convincing the honoured Patriarch of this sect to lend us aid, and act accordingly.
“Winding Wind, take your student and three disciples of your choosing. Meet with the advance scouts; they say they’ve found a path for us to use, but I’m sure your expertise might be able to find a better one. If you have time, see if you can’t find a way into Mount Leaping Trout.”
The younger Elder immediately opened his mouth, speaking three names without hesitation. “Lu, Bu Guanyin, and Mai Rong.”
A strange spiritual sensation made itself known even through the mire of the Patriarch’s displeasure, and Lu’s eyes slid to Tai Sho. Outwardly his appearance was as… Actually, no, it isn’t as immaculate as ever. Did he drop his beauty arts? The man was still startlingly handsome, but the halo of unnatural lighting, that aura that made him seem like the rest of the world existed to turn around him, was not quite as brilliant as it had been the last time Lu has scrutinised his features.
Seventh Wheel looked at his student, but didn’t comment. Instead his attention returned to the rest of the group, and he nodded at Winding Wind’s selection. “Very well. The rest of you will accompany me to the nearby city of Gehena Liu. Reinforcements from the other heartland sects have gathered there, so act diplomatically. If you have questions, speak them now.”
Out of everyone, only Bianyan stepped forward. “Senior, shall I be accompanying you to the city, or..?”
The two Elders shared another look. This time, it was Winding Wind who spoke. “You should come with me. I can make no promises, but we’ll attempt to get you back to your sect.”
The tall man bowed, and Seventh Wheel’s eyes surveyed the assembled disciples once more. Finding no wavering expressions, he nodded.
“We will meet back up when the time to confront the Salt forces arrives. I wish you well.”
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Seventh Wheel watched from out the corner of his eye as Winding Wind and the five disciples broke off, the bulk of his attention on his own group.
And the bulk of that attention on Tai Sho. His student’s movements retained the grace of the core realms, but under his skin his sense was rippling like ocean waves in the midst of a summer storm.
“This way.” Without preamble their group of eleven descended the mountain, at a pace that would have been unseemly in any other situation. But he had little patience for propriety in the midst of an unfolding war – and he did have to assume it would be war.
Better to act swiftly and look foolish, than slowly and miss an opportunity. Mount Unrelenting Vigour descended down to the ground under their feet, and they exited the bounds of the sect’s defensive arrays without a word. But as they came to a stand of trees still in the shadow of the mountain, he raised his arm and signalled a halt.
“Pardon me, I must speak to my disciple for a moment.” The gathered men and women were all hardened combatants, and it was beneath them to fidget or look unsure. But Seventh Wheel could feel the undercurrent of emotion expressed through their senses, chips in the facade they had built up over centuries.
Tai Sho followed him a few steps away, where he cast a minor illusion. It was nearly pointless as a concealment, something that could be easily breached by even a dabbler in the illusory arts, but in this situation it was merely a signal of intent for privacy, rather than an insurance of it.
Unrelenting Vigour – both the institution and the person – would still be watching, and erecting a stronger illusion so close would actually threaten the tenuous relationship between their sects. If they wanted to look, Seventh Wheel would just have to put up with it.
“Master?”
“Tai Sho.” Foolish child. The thought was not unkind, but neither was it generous; in his mind, Seventh Wheel spoke only the truth. “Are you in a state that I can rely on?”
The man’s soft smile flattened, the frenzy of his sense following suit. For a moment there was silence, then… “For a few days at least, Master. After that, I cannot say.” His face did not ask for forgiveness, which was fortunate since Seventh Wheel would not have given any.
“Very well.” He took his student’s words at face value; seventh realm or not, Path or not, Tai Sho was actually a remarkably poor liar.
There was no need for additional words. The illusion dissipated, and they continued north.
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Unlike the larger group, who had hounded off down the north face of the mountain with extreme speed, Lu and the rest of Winding Wind’s subordinates travelled more leisurely.
Not slowly, exactly, but not so quickly that he couldn’t get a second look at the sect on the way down.
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They really are strange people. Ah, though I suppose they’d say the same about us. With the way everything was out in the open, it almost reminded him of camping out under the stars on longer trips. I wonder what they do when it rains.
But the mountain was not nearly as large as he was used to, and in short order they had reached the outer gates. They were simple stone doors, painted the same shade of red as the disciple’s robes but otherwise undecorated, and left open despite the approaching danger from the near south.
Lu’s tongue felt fat in his mouth as they passed through. Thus far he had remained silent, but as the gates began grinding closed behind them – ah, they must be controlled by some hidden observer – he rallied enough willpower to speak his mind. “Pardon, Elder. Might I ask why you chose us three disciples in particular?”
The Elder looked back over his shoulder. “Is it not obvious? You and disciple Rong have some skill in stealth arts, much more than most.”
Bull broke in, one brow raised. “And me? I can’t say I’m much for stealth at all.”
“Of course you had to come with me.” The man’s dull brown eyes turned back to the path ahead, which was devolving into a simple dirt road now that they were outside the sect. “It would have been the height of lunacy to leave you and Tai Sho together – we can’t afford to toss away promising disciples on the eve of a great conflict.”
Bull’s grin diminished, but though less of his teeth were on display his expression seemed somehow even sharper. “I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t have attacked him, not here and now.” He glanced Lu’s way, and Lu quickly nodded in support. Of course, of course. I’ve never thought otherwise, even for a moment.
Winding Wind did not reply, and for nearly an hour they continued in silence, their speed increasing for a time before returning again to a more sedate pace, as the need for subtlety became greater.
They split into two lines, Winding Wind cloaking Bull and Bianyan while Giro did the same with Lu and Lady Rong. It reminded Lu just slightly of travelling the nursery floors with Sulphur Grip, though obviously the level of illusion was entirely different – they could all still see each other, at the very least. I wonder what Sulphur and Ded are up to. Did they survive that huge exodus with the rest of Junk Dog? I hope they did… Perhaps we’ll be able to meet again, or maybe even reconcile, as slim as those chances must be.
As if his idle thoughts had twisted fate, Lu began to sense ki on the wind. It was thin, even thinner than the trickle at the outermost extremities of a breach, but to his Comprehension it seemed… stronger. If qi was akin to a gas, and ki a liquid, then the strange ki he was feeling was like drifting motes of solid dust, fragments of iron shaved off the edge of a sword as it was sharpened.
“Can you feel that, seniors?”
“I can,” replied Bull, his expression savage.
“Me as well,” from Mai Rong.
Elder Winding Wind and Giro did not react, while Bianyan only nodded, his face a mix of emotions. A thick shield that glistened like porcelain obscured the man for a moment before it became dormant and faded into invisibility, and Lu was reminded that the man was a full two realms above him.
Winding Wind had them settle down atop a large outcropping of stone, a tiny mesa that stood maybe fifteen metres above the surrounding terrain. Smoke was visible on the horizon, and some small amounts of normal ki began to reach them.
“We’ll wait here for the moment; the other scouts should be appearing shortly.”
“Should we not be able to see the mountain from here?” Bull asked.
Bianyan answered, “Our anti-divination arrays are quite good.” But then he cleared his throat, his raised chin lowering. “Also, our mountain is not… This close to the coast, things aren’t quite as impressive as you have it in the interior.”
Lu eyed the man, and Bull openly scoffed. His face took on a touch of defensiveness.
“Don’t be conceited. It isn’t the size of a man’s mountain, but how he uses it!”
That drew out a full-on laugh from Bull, and even the more serious Lady Rong smirked.
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Even as he burned, even as One-Man-Eaten-By-Fire consumed him like a raging fire did a block of charcoal, Urick-With-Two-Crossed-Swords remained aware.
No, that was wrong. ‘Remained’ was entirely the wrong word. Urick was more aware, both of his surroundings, and of himself. The air was a mix of different energies, each distinct and separate from the others in a way he would have struggled to discern before he had become kindling. The earth, the metal tool at his side, the scar tissue marking his devotion, all of it held profound meaning. He had thought himself wise before, but his current experience revealed those thoughts to be lies, reduced down to cinders by the truths issuing into him from a nebulous outside.
Each of his clansmen were a world unto themselves, meaning layered over meaning in their stomachs, their heads, their hearts. Each time his smoking eyes passed over them a thousand secrets revealed themselves, light bursting forth to scour away ignorance. He could have recited their own thoughts to them as they had them, such was his understanding. And his own heart was no less revealed; Urick had uncovered more dark pockets inside himself than he ever could have imagined.
It was like he had spent his life in a dark room, seeing light through a pinhole, and now finally the walls had cracked open to grace him with real sight.
But more than anything, Urick was aware of One-Man. As he tilted Urick’s head skyward, Urick could feel waves of nostalgia, so clear and intense that they communicated clearer than any language imaginable. An orb of fire burned impossibly high above, a great lamp of inconceivable proportions whose scale he could only understand through One-Man’s shared insight.
I remember standing in light like this, before the Sun died. Those were terrible times, but in some small ways the world was… larger.
Just as Urick had thought himself wise, he had thought he understood his Idol. He had spent years peering into the blacksmith’s flame, gulping down power and condensing Secrets from the heat and smoke. Beating his heart into the shape of a sword, one blow at a time. One-Man was not solely fire, or war, or invention; he was the conjoining of all three into one. The light of civilisation.
Stingy-Eye had taught hunger, had raised them up a half-step from the beasts of the earth, but it was One-Man and his fire that finished the job. Men were men because of that fire; if the first Great Ancestor was the mother of mothers, then the second was the father of fathers. The teacher and the Clanboss; the stern and nurturing hand to shape clay, and the kiln to harden it so that it could hold its shape.
But the real One-Man-Eaten-By-Fire was so much more. He reached everything, encompassed everything. Urick’s previous understanding was only that pinprick made in the wall, the smallest possible opening to peer into a vast and endless radiance. But now he was the radiance, a small flame joined to a great conflagration. He could feel even more of One-Man’s vast consciousness through the thread leading through the doorway, an even greater being that the fragment inhabiting his skin was only a small sliver of.
Look there, we have visitors. Ah, I know that one. Urick’s head moved, and with a twist of energy he saw. Klicks away, nearly over the horizon, was a group of natives. A Clanboss and two elites, with three lessers. But it wasn’t the green-clothed man whose power stood head and shoulders above the others who had drawn One-Man’s eye, but rather the least of them. A man who would not hope to achieve the rank of Raidboss in Urick’s clan, even if he doubled in strength.
That’s the man who repelled Stingy-Eye? Yes, I can see it. There is a fire in him, an unyielding fear that has been banked but still smoulders. Do they think to repel Me in the same fashion?
Around Urick’s slowly decomposing body, the great army rearranged itself. After a minute there was a clear path where no men or tents stood, an empty corridor that should be clearly visible even to the unaided eye.
Hours passed as Urick and One-Man waited. Humans came and went from the small group, but eventually the moment when spark met wood arrived; the Clanboss and his warriors left their flat rock, moving over the green land towards the army.