I am not entirely happy with this one, but if I don't post it I won't write the next one and I really want to keep going.
The Mirror (Part 2 of 7)
Maria Turn 8 Third Omake
"Really?"
"Oh yes. Just outside the Dawn Fortress. It's where I grew up."
"How wonderful! I wish my own family were as fortunate. My grandfather is master of the Economos Waycastle. A wonderful place, of course, but not as exalted as your estate must be."
Letha and Kyra had been chattering since they set up camp that evening. Maria wished they'd stop. They'd dance between topics like lunatic dervishes, never quite choosing one, and each would be as unerringly boring as the last; books she'd never read, places she'd never been, ways to cut your hair… the kind of pointless frippery she'd never understood.
What was worse, they knew she didn't understand it. Letha had tried to include her in the conversation at the start. It was a kind gesture, but Maria didn't have it in her to appreciate it; the awkwardness of those ten minutes had made her want to bury her head in the sand until they all went away.
Or perhaps admit that runaway slaves don't make good company for the exalted scions of great cultivator clans.
Shut up.
She set her teeth, hard, and glared away into the distance. This wasn't her. It wasn't. She was as much a Dev- Optimatoi as anyone. They just cared about stupid things.
The night had started to fall two hours ago, and they'd stopped to rest the horses. Now they were settled in around a campfire, their tents circled behind them with a watch set. Priam and Adonia to start, then her and Alcander and finally Zeth and Kyra. Which would hopefully mean there'd be less of that mindless rambling tomorrow.
…That was mean. She stopped trying to meditate, slumped her head into her hands, and sighed. None of what she'd thought was fair. It was just her own discomfort and old insecurities niggling at her. She should acknowledge that, at least. Letha was trying to be kind, even if she wasn't very good at it. Better that than Adonia's sharp glances, or thin-lipped little frowns whenever Maria spoke. She should apologise for being so… grumpy. Or at the very least try and be nicer in future.
She should go over now. Do it quickly.
But she didn't. Instead, she rose from her spot at the mouth of her tent and stepped out towards the desert. Too much awkwardness now. Too much embarrassment and self-recrimination. Even if it was entirely in her own head, she still wanted a break from it. The sand dunes, dark and cool and empty, would help her make her brain go still.
She stopped at the edge of the tent circle and squatted gracelessly in the sand. The moon was just starting to wane, a barely visible sliver of darkness squashed against its perimeter, and the world was bathed in its pale light. There was no wind to disturb the sand, either. Just a stillness that stretched out all the way to the horizon, and the distant gleam of the scorpion road.
Maria felt the day's tensions release inside her chest. She breathed out slowly. Peace. Peace was coming to her at last. A smile danced around the corner of her mouth. She loved nights like this.
"Pardon."
She glanced back over one shoulder. Oyster stood behind her with a bowl in his hands.
"I saw you hadn't eaten. Perhaps you might enjoy this bowl of what I'm sure is thoroughly nourishing gruel?"
He said it so calmly that it took her a second to realise he was joking.
"Oh. No. 'm good?"
"Sure? I can promise, from its texture, colouration and consistency alone, that it is certainly food of some variety. Depending on your definition."
She snorted.
"I'm sure."
"Reasonable." Oyster flicked his wrist with a practiced gesture and sent the (alleged) food flying out onto the sand. "I'm sure a scorpion will eat it eventually. Presumably karma will ensure it is an unpleasant scorpion."
Maria couldn't help it. She laughed. "Like a really mean scorpion, you mean?"
"Yes. Rude to its dinner companions, tips poorly at restaurants, doesn't tidy up in the communal scorpion kitchens, that sort of thing."
"Sounds like a real asshole."
"Well, one would hope. The alternative is some poor scorpion innocent would make the same mistake. I can't have that on my conscience. May I sit?"
She nodded. He folded his spindly legs under him and sat beside her, gazing out across the sand.
"You're the first Cursed Mushroom I've met," said Maria.
"I should warn you the others are far less conventionally handsome."
She laughed again.
"Yeah?"
"Oh yes. They have something around the eyes, though. A certain charm."
"I'll look out for it, I ever meet one."
"Do. It'll keep you from staring at their faces. They don't like it."
"That why you're here? Others were all too shy?"
"You would assume! But actually, no. I volunteered for the position. Thought I might enjoy seeing a bit more of the world."
Maria nodded, still smiling, and turned back to the view. Oyster was right. The world was very much worth seeing.
---
"… can I do for you, master Cultivator?"
Kuei blinked, and shook himself back to reality. He shouldn't wander off into his head like that. He'd miss what was right in front of him, and what kind of life would that be? He turned his masked face away from the moon and back to the innkeeper, currently smiling at him uneasily.
"My apologies, good sir. I was distracted by how lovely the evening looks tonight."
"Ah." The man relaxed. Good manners tended to do that. "Yes, my lord, very fine tonight. In fact, our village is blessed with a particularly beautiful view of it."
"Oh yes?"
"There is a hill nearby, on which we have built a pavilion and stone garden. There, you can see as far as Three Frogs!"
"My word! A tourist attraction, I must assume?"
The innkeeper nodded. "We have had the honour of some very fine visitors. The Sarapenchos family sent a representative five years ago!" The man's chest swelled with pride at every word. Honestly, he looked like he was going to burst.
"Such honour! I am most impressed. Sadly, I am merely a humble cultivator of no great renown. Might I still be welcomed?" Kuei pitched it like a joke, and the innkeeper laughed.
"Certainly, sir. Are you here for a room?"
"Please. And a meal, if your kitchen still serves at this late hour?"
"Certainly. My wife and daughters made their famous dumplings, this evening. I shall bring you some. And perhaps some plum wine?"
Before he could answer, Kuei's stomach growled audibly. The two men laughed. The innkeeper ushered Kuei into the dining room, now essentially empty but for the last few patrons polishing off their dinners, and sat him at a table near the fireplace. Moments later, a bottle and a full glass of the wine were placed in front of him. He poured himself a glass and tipped his mask up a little so he could sip it.
Rich. Sweet. The alcoholic burn giving it the gentlest kick. Oh, but he had
missed this. Kuei let out a deep, happy sigh, and sat back in his chair.
The innkeeper came back after a moment with the dumplings and a few little dishes for sauce. Kuei nodded gratefully.
"My thanks."
"No trouble, lord cultivator."
"My thanks anyway. Might I trouble you for another favour? it seems a shame to drink and eat alone. I understand of course that you are busy, but if you have a moment might I ask that you join me?"
"it would be my honour."
The innkeeper pulled over a chair and sat. Kuei pushed the bottle towards him. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, and then began to talk.
"I must say," said Kuei, "this inn is very fine."
"thank you," said the innkeeper. "it has been in my family for generations."
"That long?"
"Oh yes. We were lucky. To begin, we were farmers. Then, when the tourists came, my grandfather built this place. It was just a side business, to start, but we gave up the farm last year. More money in this. And more interesting company," he said with a smile. Kuei smiled back under his mask.
"how wonderful to hear of such good fortune. I must commend your grandfather's wisdom."
"thank you sir. I-"
the innkeeper faltered. He seemed to remember, in that moment, how far the Gulf could be between cultivator and mortal. Kuei empathised. Not that long ago, he had sat on the far edge of that divide. There was no need to let the man suffer. He leaned forward and poured another glass of the plum wine.
"I promise you, sir, I do not take offence easily. Especially not with those who served me such fine libations."
Laughter.
"well, if you are sure, I wonder... That is to say, I have never-" the innkeeper groped for the words, then gave up. "might I inquire, sir, what sort of cultivator are you? I know of the Golden Devils and their blood of bronze, and I know of the sorcerers of Xin. I have heard tales of others too, from the Dragon empires of the divided mortal kingdoms, and the mad goat men and their strange magics. "
"you are well read."
"but I have never heard," said the innkeeper, "of anyone who wears such a mask as yours. Might I inquire, is it perhaps to do with your Dao?"
Kuei laughed, tipped his mask forward a little, and popped a dumpling in his mouth. It was filled with a sweet bean paste, and a little chilli powder for spice. He closed his eyes, and revelled in the taste. "I must say, you know more of the many paths of cultivation then I do. Why such interest? "
The innkeeper smiled. "in my youth, I had dreams of cultivation myself. I thought, perhaps, to run away, and join a sect or clan. They say that there is somewhere in the desert, a place where mortals may be bound to the blood of scorpions. I dreamed that I would find it, and there begin my climb. Didn't happen of course. My father stopped me, and then when I was older I met my wife. I am happy as I am, Sir, do not misunderstand. My life is full of little joys. but I suppose I am still..."
"Curious?"
"just so."
Kuei nodded agreeably. "my father was a merchant," he said. "I understand very much. And you are right. I do wear my mask for such a reason."
The innkeeper leaned forward. "your Dao."
"No. No, not that. I am blessed with a little talent, but I have not progressed that far. No, I wear this mask- ah well. You would not believe me."
"I would," said the innkeeper, nodding as if to convince Kuei with sheer force of his own assent. "If there is one truth I have learned in all my years keeping this inn, it is that the world is full of marvels. Should you be another, then I shall bless my luck to have met you, and not insult you with disbelief."
Kuei considered. Well. It couldn't hurt, could it? "You are sure?"
"Yes."
"very well. My path is esoteric. Its ways are... unusual. At its core, the path of the Truthful Mask concerns a simple contradiction- who we are, truly, is a secret we keep even from ourselves. Cultivation, at the higher realms, addresses this through the Dao. One cannot progress if one cannot admit what one truly believes. My path chooses to address this early- from the very beginning of our studies, in fact. Self mastery begins from the very moment we first draw in qi. And mastery of others, too."
the innkeeper's brows furrowed. "Others?"
"oh yes. You see, if you are not your own master, then you are anyone's slave. Would you like a demonstration?"
He did not wait for an answer. In truth, he had begun the instant he entered the inn. With a gesture and I flicker of qi, he sat his path loose on everyone around him. The other patrons. The innkeeper's wife and daughter. The sleeping souls upstairs. Each one, he delved inside, forging wet, red, gristly connections.
Across from him, the innkeeper stiffened. Thick red veins blossomed on his neck, running across his face and forehead like hungry vines. The beat of his heart set them twitching over his skin. Kuei watched as he tried to move, arms straining against themselves, but it would be no use; there was only the path now.
"it's alright," said Kuei. "I know, I know. You're afraid right now. Don't be. I'm going to help you. All those lies you tell yourself, I'm going to make them stop. You can be yourself. Your real self. And even better- you're going to be a part of something wonderful."
he rose. There was a window on the edge of the dining room. Through it, he could see the rest of the village- 30 or 40 houses, a few shops, a tea house, and the Hill and the stone garden.
"You're all going to be part of something wonderful. You'll see."
---
Two weeks later, and they still hadn't reached three frogs. The journey was starting to get on Maria's nerves. To make matters worse, now they were stuck. It was rare to see a rain storm in the desert, but now the Sky was thick with clouds, and the rain came down to beat the sand like it owed it fucking money. They were trapped until the sand dried up enough to ride on. Still, at least they weren't outside.
They had found this place almost by accident- an abandoned building, by the look of it recently. Something about it had made Maria uneasy. Why would anyone leave somewhere like this? Then again, she didn't really know where this was. Maybe people abandoned places like this all the time. It was really just a box, more than a building. Some sort of storage shed perhaps. And it kept the rain off her head. She'd take that.
The others had investigated it within a few minutes. She and Oyster had been set to prepare camp. It hadn't taken long. Now all of them were strewn about in various stages of boredom.
"a full day," said Adonia, glaring at the wall. "Wasted."
"Don't take it so personally," said Alcander. "It's just rain. It doesn't mean to upset you." he smiled. That counted as a clever joke for him. Zeth fixed him with a glare, and the boy shuffled awkwardly. A beat of silence. "I thought it was funny."
"perhaps this is a good thing," said Letha. "It might be good to take advantage of this- train a little. Obviously nothing too strenuous," she said hastily, glancing around the fragile structure they sheltered in, "but I'm sure we could manage something. Formation training perhaps. To get used to each other?"
"no point," said Priam. "not going to be fighting together anyway."
It was hard to read priam, even at the best of times, but today he seemed in a particularly inscrutable mood. He might have been furious, grieving, overjoyed- impossible to tell.
"still," said Letha. "it would be something to do."
"So would be punching a wall."
Beside Maria, Oyster tilted his head to hide his lips from view. "He must be amazing at parties."
"shut up," muttered Maria, fighting down a grin.
"Or perhaps at sporting events. He could start races. Or stop them, rather. "
"Oyster, I swear, if you don't-"
"he could stand at the finish line and tell them it was pointless to even try."
That was too much. Maria snorted as laughter forced itself past her lips. She clamped a hand over her mouth and shook. The others looked at her. When she could trust herself to speak, she looked up. "Sorry," she said. "Thinking of something else."
Adonia fixed her with a glare. "Perhaps you should keep your mind on the task at hand."
Maria made herself nod. Fixed a smile to her lips. Wanted, so badly, to beat Adonia into the ground. "You're right. Sorry."
There was another uncomfortable silence. Those happened a lot, whenever Maria said something. Adonia didn't look away. "you know," she said abruptly, "I think perhaps I agree with Letha. We should take advantage of this time. Sparring."
Priam glanced at her. She went on regardless. "We cannot let our standards slip, after all," she said, eyes still locked on Maria, "not when we will be shaping the future of our clan."
Alcander nodded excitedly. "Yes," he said. "Yes please. Finally some excitement." Zeth looked at him warningly, but it didn't matter. Aldonia nodded.
"It's decided then," she said. "first-"
"Actually," said Oyster, giving Adonia his most bland of looks, "I think I might go first. If it's all the same to you."
Maria jerked. Looked at him. "what are you-"
"I feel I would benefit most strongly from your instruction," he continued, heedless of her interruption. "And I'm sure standards must apply even more strongly in my case, yes? I am an outsider after all. And I will be teaching your clan mates. So much more risk."
Adonias face stilled. She seemed not to hear him. "Maria-"
"Unless, of course, you're afraid," he said very quietly.
That shouldn't work. Maria knew that shouldn't work. A Golden devil was stoic after all. And yet, despite that, Adonia's eyes fixed on him. Her nostrils flared like an angry bull.
"Of course, Lord Mushroom," she said, her voice sneering. "what sort of cultivator would I be if I did not answer so... charming... a challenge?"
Letha glanced back and forth between the two. "I'm not sure-"
"Shut up." adonia snatched up her spear.
A beat. Then, scrambling motion. Everyone drew away from the two of them. Maria found herself standing next to Priam.
"what is she doing?" he muttered to himself.
Good question.
Maria poked him hard in the side. "she'll kill him."
Priam shook his head. "No, she won't." But he didn't sound sure.
Oyster drew himself up slowly, spindly limbs unfolding like some strange puppet, before settling down into a loose stance. Adonia flicked her spear back over her hand, held it steady, stared at him.
"Lesson the first," she said "The weaker cultivator, without exception, loses to the strong."
And then she moved. An explosion of motion. Her flesh starting to gleam with the metallic sheen of the blood of bronze. She brought the spear forward in a brutal stabbing motion. her face contorted in an awful smile...
which curdled as Oyster brought his wrist up and snapped it aside. The momentum carried her forward, but he had already moved, leaving behind only one long outstretched leg To trip her. She stumbled, skidded, caught herself, turned-
A palm struck her in the face. Oyster was on her, then; A frenzy of long limbed blows arcing down over and over. She brought her arms up in defence. He snaked around them, landing strike after strike. Then, with an elegant flick, he cartwheeled back to land in his loose stance, lower this time, hands up to guard his face.
there was a stunned moment amongst the onlookers, Maria included. That had been almost perfect. The kind of unarmed combat you told stories about. This fight was a lot more equal than it had looked.
Adonia seems to have realised that too. She advanced slower this time , spear up, and probed him with three or four quick evaluating jabs. Oyster knocked them aside one at a time, taking little steps back and forth to adjust his stance. He seemed almost bored.
"Far be it from me to tell you your business, Legionnaire, but I think I know this lesson," he said. Adonia coloured, curled her lip, and set about him. This time, her spear snaked out, delivering the blows with care and precision. Long practise made her fast, too, and sent her attacks into the path of his movement- wherever he went, she was already there.
"Ah," said Priam. "There it is. Pity. Thought the little mushroom man had her there for a second." Maria shot him a confused look. He glanced at her, then back to the fight. "That's a glass and iron stance," he said. "Won us more than a few wars, none of them easy. Hard to master. See the way she's driving him back? He can't advance, because if he does she'll put a blade in him. But if he doesn't, she'll wear him down. Just has to wait him out now."
Marias heart sank. It might not have been long, but for a moment she had thought Oyster would shut Adonia up at last. But no. It seemed Priam was right. Adonia had Oyster caught- he couldn't move forward to strike her, only backwards in the face of her assault. The end seemed obvious, now.
...Except.
Except there were holes in her stance. Suddenly they seemed obvious. Gaps that could so easily be exploited for a strike. All Oyster had to do was step into one of them. And was it Maria's imagination, or was Adonia slowing? There was something laboured about the way she held her spear, the way she breathed. But that couldn't be. A Golden Devil, full of the blood of bronze, did not tire from one spear assault.
Except this one apparently did. After a moment, the stance disintegrated. Adonia, gasping for breath now, was left with nothing but great swinging strikes, her spear cutting an arc in the air. Oyster slipped past them with a casual ease. He'd started to smirk.
"Oh, well," he said, "this. This is a fine showing. I must say, when you offered to spar, I didn't realise you wanted to work on the basics..."
Adonia gave a ragged snarl, and pushed forward, her spear lashing out. But oyster had lost interest in playing with her. Something like green light shimmered across his back, down his arm and into the palm of his hand. As Adonia came near him he stepped forward, let her spear cut past his shoulder, and struck her chest. For one second, it seemed like nothing happened.
Then Adonia collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut.
Oyster stepped back, bowed slowly, and returned to the sidelines to stand byMaria.
"Truly, a masterful performance on her part," he said calmly. "I especially liked the bit at the end where she just waved her stick at me."
"What the hell was that?" Priam was staring. Oyster shrugged. "I worked a few things out. That and some good luck. Cultivation. You know."
Maria laughed incredulously. "That was brilliant."
He gave another shrug. "thank you."
"what did you
do?"
"well. Since it's you asking. I might have figured out some... new applications to our traditional methods."
Priam breathed out slowly, closed his eyes, nodded. "Curses."
"The difficulty, of course, lies in casting time. Can't get off a good curse if someone is trying to punch you in the throat. But if, say, one were to prepare one's curses in advance? Leave nothing but the activation?"
"Smart. And the hand to hand?"
"I have a gift. Well, bloody mindedness and a great deal of time on my hands."
Priam gave a snort. you could call it a laugh, if you were feeling generous. "Not bad. You won, alright. Undo them now."
Oyster gave him a blank smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do." Priam glanced back to where Adonia still lay gasping on the field. "Counter curse, please. Not asking you to like her."
Oyster seemed about to object, but then he glanced over at Maria, back to Adonia, and then at Priam's spear. "Ugh, fine." he gestured, traced out some strange design in the air. Adonia took a deep shuddering breath. "You're lucky I'm generous."
Adonia rose, snarling. "How dare-" she began.
Priam got in front of her. "Good match," he said, tone seemingly friendly until you saw the way his hand was locked around his spear haft. They held gazes for a long moment, until Adonia stalked away, snarling.
Priam turned back, face as unreadable as ever. He looked at Maria. "You and me next."
"…What?"
He shrugged. "Adonia wasn't wrong. Sparring isn't a bad idea. I should have said it myself. Come on." Maria hesitated, something like uneasiness flared in her gut. She forced it down. It was just a sparring match. What could go wrong?
They took up positions opposite each other, spears at the ready, and dropped into fighting stances. She went for something simple; side on to him, her spear raised in both hands, the blade just below eye level. He glanced over it, nodded infinitesimally.
"Ready?"
"Yeah."
Thud.
She didn't even feel the blow. He'd hit her with the flat of his spear blade, once, hard across the face, and pulled back into his stance before she'd even started to move.
"Don't look ready," he said, voice flat.
Maria's jaw tightened. "Try that again," she growled, and flung herself at him.
---
When Oyster had been freshly awakened, six years old at the most, a kindly elder had taken him to Acrocorinth. It had been part of some diplomatic issue he still, decades later, didn't entirely understand, but he had enjoyed it. It seemed that mushroom, mortal, and Golden Devil alike all had the same reaction to cute kids, and that reaction was "awwww!" He'd come home with so many presents and treats he'd had to give some away from lack of space. It was a fascinating place, too; the Waycastle was bustling with traders, miners, farmers, cultivators of every stripe – a mad collection of every kind of person in the whole world, he was sure.
But for all the spoiling, and all the novelty, what had really stuck with him was seeing Golden Devil spearfighters for the first time.
It had been an exhibition tourney, in honour of the Cursed Mushroom ambassadorial visit. Ten young legionnaires competing for some small trinket and bragging rights. Nothing fancy, the Elder had told him. Don't get too excited.
And then they'd started, and Oyster was in awe.
They fought like gods, he'd excitedly told his friends. Like genius gods trying to kill each other with lethal geometry. The spears traced out lines and arcs as they flew back and forth, so fast he could barely make them out. The fighters themselves had seemed almost irrelevant; their bodies were just fixed points. It was their weapons that mattered.
As he stood in that strange box of a building, watching Maria and Priam, the memory came back to him. Along with it, a realization.
Compared to these two, those half-remembered legionnaires looked like fucking
amateurs.
Priam fought like a textbook; thrusts leading into swipes into blocks into shaft strikes into evasions, all flowing into each other and yet each one so perfectly clear you could almost take notes. This was a fighter with decades of experience, and time had bled all weakness out of him until all that was left was efficiency.
Maria, by contrast, was just power. There was technical skill, he could see that; her moves had that same quicksilver fluidity that Priam's had. But behind it was a strength and ferocity that took his breath away. Thrusts lashed out horrifically fast, aimed at heart, throat, head, groin – every defense turning back into attack almost immediately, ruthlessly aggressive each time.
He'd gotten lucky against Adonia, Oyster realized. She'd been angry, and that made her arrogant and careless. If she could have fought like this, then he'd have gone down in moments.
Except maybe she couldn't have. He found his eyes flickering across the faces of the others, finding the same thing each time. Awe. Pure, shocked awe. They watched each blow and counterblow with almost religious devotion, whispering amazed little realisations as they did;
"…skin of bronze, yes, but he's so flexible-"
"-never seen anyone
move that fast-"
"-she can't have just learned this, she can't-"
"Who
is he?"
"Who is
she?!"
These are rare talents, thought Oyster, turning all his attention back to the fight.
These are rare talents and I am in the room with them.
I am so glad I fought for this appointment.
But like all good things, this moment couldn't last. He could already see how it would end. For all that she was incredible, Maria wasn't as good as Priam. She should be. She was faster, stronger, a hundred times more brutal and only a touch less skilled. So why, then?
Oyster leaned forward, stared, focused. He had moments, if that, to work it out. He couldn't explain why it mattered to him, only that it did. There was something, some lesson hidden in this fight that he wasn't seeing. Blow. Counter-blow. Block, redirect, strike. Evasion. He couldn't find it.
And then he did.
It was the moments between, he realized, half stunned, half giddy with the realization. That was it. That was the tell. Priam's were smooth and fluid, yes, but they were that way because
he knew what to do. No doubt. No hesitation. No thought. He went from move to move with total confidence. Maria was almost there. Almost. But there was always a twitch. Barely visible. Practically non-existent. But as clear and as final as a tombstone. She was stopping herself from following through. Each move was a choice, conscious and worked out, even if she did it in the barest slice of a second. A decision to go against her first instinct.
And that's why she was going to lose. Priam was only fighting Maria. Maria was fighting Priam and herself.
He had that understanding all of an instant. Then the fight was over. He didn't even see the move, just the results. A harsh
thwack of wood on skin, and then Maria was on the floor.
Legsweep. Must have been a legsweep.
Priam stepped back, his chest heaving like a bellows. He was staring down at Maria with some cross between respect and exultation on his face. The others were already moving, streaming over to babble amazed plaudits.
Oyster was halfway up to join them when he saw it.
Maria's eyes opening.
A moment of brief eye contact, her and Oyster staring at each other. There was no recognition on her face.
Then he watched those eyes swivel up to lock on Priam.
And her face contorted with rage.
---
...Still really not sure about that last fight. Eugh. Sorry if it came off as me blowing smoke up my own character's ass, I was trying to illustrate where her head's at without just saying it. Also,
@Alectai @TehChron @Humbaba , could I have this and my previous two omake for this turn (
here and
here) bookmarked, please? I've added the first one and my omake reward to the spreadsheet already.