Price and Balance (Part 5)
Maria Turn 11 Sixth Omake
The days wore past, one after another, in an agonizing crawl. Maria had forgotten how slow mortals could be. It was embarrassing to admit; she'd always prided herself on being more grounded and down to earth than the average Optimatoi. To discover she'd forgotten the limits of their condition over the last sixty years or so was, at best, humbling.
This particular bunch weren't exactly her sort, either. They'd been, if not rich, then well-to-do. Merchants, apparently. Some old Devil had burnt out his bloodline centuries ago in the face of the trials, and having at last been released from the threat of Heaven, had settled down in One-Boat and made a tidy sum selling wine. His children and descendants had weathered countless storms, since then. Persecution. Violence. Pain. Only now, in the face of a threat too great to outlast, were they coming home. It was almost sad, in a way. Or it would have been, if it wasn't so awkward to be around them.
The trouble was, she never knew how to talk to rich mortals; or at least, mortals she would have called rich before she reached the desert. Her own natural dialect was a mix of gutter urchin and career soldier, a rich and heady brew of curses, insults and petty cruelties delivered in place of affection. Theirs was cool and slow and considered; the kind of language that dripped out slowly, full of double meanings and reflexive politeness. The two did not mix. Especially when, technically speaking, the filthy mouthed urchin was the one in charge. Every conversation turned into a hideously awkward mess of stutters and misunderstandings that had to be navigated very, very carefully.
It'd have been easier if she could just hate the bastards, but even that was denied her. It had been a possibility at the beginning. Then one of the little ones, not a day over nine, had asked her innocently about the desert.
"Big," Maria had said, shortly. "Hot. Lot of sand."
"Is it true about the scorpions?"
She'd blinked. Turned. The boy had stared up at her, face that peculiar mix of trusting, suspicious, and intrigued that children alone seemed to have mastered.
"…Depends," she'd said, slowly. "What do they say about the scorpions?"
"That you eat them," had come the prompt response. "That you crack open their shells and cook the flesh inside. That they're as big as houses, so you have to wrestle them. That you have even bigger ones, the size of cities, that you ride into battle."
"…The size of
cities?"
He'd nodded, very seriously. She could feel herself softening with every word. Gods.
KIDS. She was as bad as Carvos and his rabbit, she really was.
"Well," she'd said, feeling a grin run across her lips unbidden and utterly helpless to stop it, "I've never seen one that big. But I've seen the scorpion cavalry."
…His eyes literally shone. For Gods' sake, how was he this cute?
"Cavalry?"
"Great heroes under Master Shang Yu. They burst out of the sand and slay cannibals and evil-doers by the score. Then they ride off into the distance, fast as lightning."
"Do they go on adventures?"
"They ride scorpions," she'd said, tone scathing and teasing in equal measure. "Of
course they go on adventures."
He'd been shoe'd away by a deeply apologetic parent, soon after, but she'd seen him and the other children playing "Shang Yu and the Scorpion Riders" when they'd made camp that night. Worse, the elder (who, up to that point, she'd privately pidgeonholed as the prissiest and most infuriating mortal she'd ever met) had spent half an hour with a whittling knife and some long sticks to make them scorpions to ride. With that, all animosity had fled. All it had left was awkwardness.
Still, the mortals were better than Lyssa. She couldn't even begin to understand what had happened to her sister-self. Things had been uncomfortable since their fight in the camp, but at least she'd understood that. Now…
Now she was just impenetrable. Their link had never been weaker; they hadn't recombined in weeks. Maria would get flickers sometimes – confusion, anger – but even those were faint and distant, useless without context. In person, things weren't much better. There'd be terse conversations about what needed to be done that day each morning, and that would be it. Lyssa would take every chance to scout ahead, or range back behind them to obscure their tracks. It was important work, so Maria couldn't challenge her on it, but...
They'd never felt so separate, before. So uncomfortably distinct.
"Honourable Cultivator?"
She blinked, and dragged herself out of her thoughts. The mortal elder had approached her again. She tried not to wince too visibly.
"Elder," she said, politely. "What can I do for you?"
The old man gave her a simpering smile. "Your kindness, as ever, is legendary, lady Maria. The thought that one as August as yourself would deign…"
She tuned out again. It'd be a while before he got to the point. They were closing in on Ward Stormcloud, at last. She recognized the landscape. They had perhaps another day or so of travel, if they kept pace. Better still, they'd hit the ruined townships that had dotted the Fearless Line soon. That'd cut camp setup time in half. The elder was finishing up at last. She tuned in again.
"…the fullness of all things and beneath the eyes of Heaven, if perhaps you might be able to tell us what *that* is?"
He pointed. She looked. There, far off in the distance, was a blot. She wasn't sure what it was; the light played off it oddly, shifting and flickering in the morning sun. It hadn't been there the last time she'd been out here. Then again, that was going on forty years ago, and she'd spent more time up around Ward Thunderbolt; it wasn't impossible she'd missed something.
"Don't know," she said. "Could be a lot of things. The war got pretty heavy around here, Elder. Coalition had dug in, and the Alliance kept hitting the line. Lot of weird shit around these parts."
She ignored his barely-hidden wince at her language. No point having that conversation again.
"Of course," said the Elder, a deferential smile pasted onto his face. "Might I further presume upon your graciousness, then, and inquire if it is dangerous?"
…Damnit. Of course that was what this was about. She could be so fucking
stupid some times.
"Elder, I promise it is not," said Maria, as reassuringly as she could manage. "We're not going anywhere near it. Our route cuts south in a few miles, and keeps going that way. It'll stay on the horizon for a bit, and then it'll be gone."
The elder pondered for a long moment. Then, at last, he gave her a deep (and slightly relieved, she thought) bow.
"Your wisdom, as all your virtues, is unmatched, great cultivator, and my honour to receive it is…"
Maria tuned out again.
---
Thirty miles away, Lyssa waited on the roof of a house, settled onto her haunches, and stared at the sky. Her mind was a mess, these days; full of deep currents and murky waters, things she couldn't explain. She hated it. But she hadn't found a way to make it stop; the thoughts, half-formed and impenetrable, churned away in her head unceasingly. The best she could manage was when she was alone, tracking out across the landscape. Things were quieter then. Simpler.
Of course, none of that justified screwing up the work. Lyssa wasn't stupid, after all. You couldn't spend your time away from a caravan without a damn good reason. She'd spent her time scouting. And that was why, now, she was sitting on a rooftop, as obvious as she could make herself, guard so blatantly dropped you could practically see the impact crater from where it landed, and waited.
She'd seen the evidence for weeks. Someone was following them.
Someone good, too. She wasn't much of a sensor, but over this length of time there should have been something, some consistent hum of the background radiation of natural qi out here to indicate a presence. Instead, nothing. It was only the tracks that gave them away, and even those had been well-covered. It had only been luck that she'd stumbled across a few loose stones and found the tiniest trace of cigar ash. A tiny mistake. But enough. Ever since, she'd kept her eye out.
Well, she was done with the subtle stuff, now. Time to see if she could lure the bastard out.
It took less time than she thought. After about an hour, she felt the gentle, scintillating presence of a qi signature nearby. It uncloaked slowly, with a considered, almost polite kind of shift as it did. Like someone clearing their throat to let you know they were there. She felt her lips quirk amusedly. Then she felt it more clearly, and her good humour vanished. Darkness. Screams. Meat, torn and bloody, somehow both putrescent with rot and still freshly murdered at the same time.
Blood Path.
She lunged without thinking, dropping into the altered Purities technique that had become her and Maria's trademark as she went. The signature didn't move. It was waiting for her, settled outside an old farmhouse further out from the line. Lyssa recognized them the instant she saw them; a tall figure in chitinous plate armour, with a long silk robe over it. The bastard thing from Shu Cangquiong's assault on the Fort, forty years ago. The leader.
Sitting at a table.
Pouring tea.
She slammed into the ground a dozen feet away and advanced, snarling, but she didn't get far before she felt a leach wall bite into her qi. The figure glanced up at her as she flinched back.
"Good morning," it said, politely. He, Lyssa realized. The voice was male. Smooth, too; warm and refined, like freshly carved oak and good coffee. "I'd offer you tea, but I realise the circumstances make that difficult."
"Fucking KILL you," growled Lyssa.
The figure nodded.
"Yes, I realized you might feel that way."
He twitched his head slightly, and the thick chitin around his head came away smoothly in segments to nestle around like a collar. He had a lean, good looking face with high cheekbones, and his hair was long and dark, pulled up into a neat bun behind his head. The only obvious signs of his corruption were thin lines running from his hairline down to his chin. They twitched slightly as she looked at them, and she caught glimpses of soft vitreous humours and sharp, glossy keratin.
He smiled politely, and produced a pair of small reading glasses which he perched on his nose.
"For what it's worth," said the Blood Path, "I understand why. Honestly, it's a reasonable position. You're going to need to get past that, though, if we're going to get anywhere."
"FUCK you."
The Blood Path raised an eyebrow, and sipped his tea. She found herself flushing a little.
"Blood Path," she snapped. "Not itinerant, either, you're too strong for that. Either a Bee or an Altar, then, and I'm a fucking Devil, so both ways, that can fuck itself. Where's to fucking get to?"
He shrugged.
"Not inaccurate." Sipped his tea. "Limited, though. We're more than just our sects. Or clan, in your case."
"Clan's enough to make me want to kill you."
He smiled.
"You're impressive. Not good at tactical work, though."
Lyssa felt her muscles coil to launch her forward. It was only the searing hiss of the leech wall that stopped her. The smile took on an edge.
"Touched a nerve, did I? Apologies. Still, you must admit, it didn't take much to get you here, did it? That little trap of yours was a trifle obvious, too. Sitting on a roof? Really?"
Her fingers were starting to flex. He laughed.
"Consumption, but you're easy to rile. Your sister must be the smart one."
"Smart won't stop me tearing out your guts," Lyssa hissed.
The Blood Path shrugged. That was what did it. The nonchalance of it, the total lack of fear. He might as well have been discussing the weather, or what he thought about the price of wine. Lyssa felt herself snap.
Leech wall, hmm? Alright. Let's see how deep it went.
She had seconds, if that. She knew that already. He'd react the instant he realized what she was doing. The trick, therefore, would be hiding it. Lyssa brought her hands up, filled them with a mad corona of hissing, spitting qi, and dropped.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOM.*
The explosion tore through the ground, the sky, the world. Fire and wind, spiraling outwards in a mad shockwave, tearing down the wreckage of the surroundings as they went. The world was full of smoke. Her qi-sense screamed with the afterimage of her own technique. But Lyssa didn't stop. After all. Seconds, if that.
Down she went, into the impact crater that she'd torn into the ground. Down – and forwards. It was a gamble; the Blood Path clearly knew what he was doing. There was every chance he'd anchored the wall deep below the surface. But if-
Forwards. Forwards. Forwards-
Victory. No resistance. The leech wall had stopped maybe a foot above her. Snarling with triumph, she lunged upwards, arms swinging. The smoke hadn't cleared yet, but at the edge of her qi sense, she felt him still. Just had to reach him now-
And then she slammed into the leech wall.
She'd been right. He hadn't anchored it. He had made a fucking floor with it. And now, halfway through, momentum pushing her onwards and ruining any chance of escape, she was caught.
The Blood Path was still seated, holding his tea cup, but the table was gone. As Lyssa stumbled and collapsed in front of him, he rose.
"That," he said, voice severe, "was very disappointing. A few minor insults and you go off like a firework."
"Fuc'…. Yyu," she spat. "Ea'… me. Ge'on with… wwith…"
"It? Tempting, but no. I know all about you, Lyssa the Red. I'd get maybe a handful of qi before you popped like a balloon, and then you and your sister would descend on me like particularly unpleasant rain. No."
He moved towards her. Lyssa swung a feeble punch, but he caught it on one chitinous pauldron and kept advancing until he was close enough to grab her face in one jaw.
"You know, one of the wonderful upsides of being a tad more sociable than you Devils is the benefits of trade. Leech walls are a wonderful example. Did you know the Noble Knowledge sect back-engineered it from a poison? Oh yes! Very impressive. Gave it to us in exchange for a handful of assassinations, I believe. But the poison itself we got gratis. Very kind of them, I'm sure you'll agree. Now, if you build up an immunity to it, then all it does is give a sharp little zing to your tea."
He waggled the cup at her, and smiled again, fingers digging painfully into the back of her jaw to force her mouth open.
"But for everyone else, well… I think it'll be a little while before you go anywhere, oh saviour of the thousand."
Lyssa tried to scream, but nothing came out. Her mouth filled with the acrid sharpness of the tea… and then there was nothing.
---
Twenty miles away, something vast and indescribable twitched.
Guttered.
Started, inexorably, to move.
---
Fuck it. Done with that for the moment, at least.
@Kaboomatic @ReaderOfFate @no., may I have a threadmark, please?
