Sky Pride Vol. 4 Epilogue II

[I hear you. I added some stars between the sections to make it clear where the break is. Thank you, key piece of formatting advice there. - Warby]

They were hard women, faces weathered by the sun and the cold air of the Iron Hills. No few of the faces wore bruises. Some from rushing through the old mines as they fled their homes, others from the hands of their husbands, brothers and fathers. The men of the Iron Gang Militia were required to cultivate. The women were forbidden to, on pain of extremely public death. It never made sense, but then, it didn’t have to. The one with the biggest fist had the biggest say. The chiefs wanted it this way, so that was that.

It was still better than being in the mining villages. The mining villages that still survived had turned into cauldrons of suffering. The mine owners had gone mad, turning peasants into slaves and their guards into bandit gangs. The prefect had never been worth a damn and the magistrate was worse. From the perspective of the woman, the main difference was they got more food in the militia, and more safety from raids. It’s not like they had any choice about where they lived or who they married or what families they were born in. It was just something to comfort yourself with. You might be suffering, but others are suffering worse. So, really, did you have it so bad?

Until the Cultivators came. It wasn’t an army, or a great host of immortals descending. Some of the women had seen it from a distance. A child, barely into his teens going by his height and slender build. White as a crane feather, with his hair scattered across his shoulders. He was looking for something. That’s what they told each other. He was looking for something and didn’t like the answer. So he attacked. One boy attacked the strongest army the women knew.

It was a slaughter. Women who thought they knew the difference between people, thought they understood what true power looked like, learned differently. The King of Hell was a thirteen year old boy, and none of the gods and devils of their little village could stand against him.

Nobody had wanted to come back to the base. The rule was you made your way to the rendezvous point through the tunnels and hid for a week. You would be collected by the end of the week, and if you weren’t? Scatter. Scatter and run, because the army had come and would execute everyone remotely related to the bandits. Except there was no army, and nobody came after a week had passed. 

Not a single person. The women knew the men in their lives. They weren’t the sort to fight to the death. If no one came, then they were all dead or running as far as they could. The food, millet that hadn’t quite gone off, mung beans, barley, nothing so fine as rice, ran out. The water was running out too. They stank. The hidden refuge, carved into a hill, stank as the accumulated waste piled up in the room they decided would be the latrine. The militia had remembered food, and water, and even blankets, but not sanitation. 

No one was coming, so the women had to choose. Try to find a village to take them in, or flee the hills entirely. It didn’t take a lot of discussion- there was nothing good in these hills. There might not be anything good outside of them either, but they knew exactly the hell waiting for them in the valleys. So they went to the only place they knew had food- the base. And if the madman was still there, then they would run, or beg. What else could the powerless do?

Standing over the bodies of almost every man they had ever met, they had to redefine the word ‘powerless.’

“Is that old Ironfoot? Why has he got Big Smelly’s saber through his neck?”

“Dunno. Someone needs to explain to me how Big Smelly can be decapitated by a shield first.” 

“Oi, Little Hua, did you find  any footprints?”

“Oh yeah.” The teen came jogging over, looking sick. “Yeah, I found plenty. Then threw up. Now I’m back and want to throw up again. Fuck.”

“Oh stop whining! What did you find?”

“Something was waiting for the ones who ran. Some kind of animal. They were torn apart by claws, their guts scattered everywhere, heads and chests stabbed clean through…” Little Hua looked like she wanted to throw up again.

“I guess we know why nobody came for us. The ones who fought here died to the madman or each other, and the ones who ran were torn apart by beasts.” 

“It must have been curse magic. He looked like a madman, they say, so he must have used a curse to drive everyone mad, make them turn on each other and fight each other.” This from a woman kneeling on the blood-soaked ground, cradling the head of a man whose chest had a palm-wide dent over his heart, deep enough to use as a soup bowl. 

She thoughtlessly wiped the hair off his forehead. It had been a week and the bodies were stinking. She didn’t seem to mind.Everyone was scared, and exhausted, and hungry. After a week in the reeking dark, their emotions seemed distant, and thinking was hard. 

“Anyone search the manor?”

“Everyone, everyone, good news!” A woman came running out of the stockade. “Food! The madman and the beasts left the food, and the wine. They left the tents and camping supplies too. And… the weapons.”

“Really?”

They couldn’t believe it. “Are they poisoned?”

“Doesn’t smell like it, and really, would they bother?” That question was met with more silence. “Well, did they take anything?”

“How should I know? The chiefs are in there. In fucking pieces. The, hah, Grand Strategist looks like he was tortured before he died.”

“Good. Sick bastard. I remember what he did to little Ling. AND little Bai. And I know there were more.”

That met with general nods and some loud sniggering about needing a new latrine. 

“The chiefs have been stripped, the bookshelves are empty and all the storage chests have been cracked open. I didn’t find any silver or treasures, but I did find a caved-in staircase. And… I think you need to see it.” The woman led a score of the survivors into the stockade. Most of them split off to do their own searching, but a few followed the scout to the stairs.

“See?”

“See what? It’s a load of big rocks filling the stairs to a basement. Looks like a cave. I’m sure not going digging through it.” An older woman grunted.

“Yeah, but listen-” The scout waved everyone over and put her ear near a gap in the rocks.

“One, two, BREAK! Three, four, BREAK! Back and clear, back and clear.”

“Ah! Little Li isn’t keeping up!”

“Xhe Xhe you bully, you are giving me the biggest rocks to clear. How can I keep up?”

“Children?”

“Sounds like it. And they are getting closer, fast.”

“How is that-”

“Shh!”

“... Break!” The rocks in front of the women shattered into dust, rolling forward in a cloud. They coughed and staggered back, waving their sleeves in front of their faces. 

“Woah! There’s a bunch of Aunties here!”

“I’m twenty six, brat!”

“Sounds middle aged to me, Auntie.” The women blinked and rubbed their eyes. There were ten children in front of them, dressed in red robes stained with blood. Each had the powerful breath of a cultivator. And each had golden irises that faintly glowed in the dim light of the tunnel.

“Oooah! So many aunties! Hey Auntie, do you have any food? It’s been a long time since we ate, and we are all really hungry.” A little moon-faced boy came up and tugged one of the women on the sleeve.

“You think I’m made of food?” She snapped, more out of habit than intention. Her brain caught up with her mouth a moment later. “That is, yes, we have a little food. Simple stuff. You can eat with the other kids if you like… or by yourself. Whatever the Immortal wishes.”

“Immortal? Huh? Auntie, we all just started cultivating, we are a long way from immortal.” This from a delicate looking girl no older than eight. The peasant women went very still.

“Little girl, you are cultivating too?”

“Of course! We all remembered different chants in our head so we are all cultivating different ways, but we are all doing it.”

“Could you teach me?”

“Sure!”

“No, learn mine, it’s way better.” This from a gaunt eyed child. “Mine lets you go zzzp! Hers just goes WooSH. Way more boring.”

The women exchanged long looks, and led the kids back outside. Some of the others had set up a little campsite away from the bodies. There was some desultory discussion about digging graves, but the consensus was that they would shift the bodies into a mine shaft and do their best to seal it up. These had been their husbands, fathers and brothers, after all. Soon enough, they would be able to feel grief again. They would regret it if they didn’t do at least that much.

Even if they hated them, and feared them. They were still the whole world they knew. But now a new world was opening itself up before them. Ten children, each of whom could teach cultivation. If that wasn’t the intervention of the gods, then what was?

“Oh, there you kids are. I knew if I came here, I’d get to eat soft rice. I just need to show you lot the way!”

“Eh? Mister, who are you?”

“Actually, yes, who the hell are you and what are you doing here?!” One of the “Aunties” demanded, seeing the most unlikely looking man she had ever laid eyes on cheerfully washing up the bowls and setting out chopsticks.

“I’m the famed diviner, Outspread Discombobulated! I also wash dishes and mend clothes, but the divination is what you should be focusing on. You look like people in need of a safe place to rest and settle. Fortunately, the heavens led me to dinner… to you, and these clearly interesting children. They also reminded me of an old friend.”

“An old friend? Say, mister, why does your hair go up that way?”

“Don’t you know Qi gathers in high places? By raising my hair, aren’t I capturing the most qi? Tsk, you have much to learn, little girl. And yes, an old friend. Well. She healed me a few times, and that basically makes us old friends. Her house is a little far from here, but I have some tricks to help us along the way.”

“Where does she live, mister?”

“The Ancient Bamboo Medicine Hut. You kids are covered in blood and your eyes are glowing. I’d say you need a doctor. Fortunately, I know a great one.”

**************************************************************************

“And then Big Bro was all glowy and started making these noises like he was a tree or a fire or uhhh… the ground or something I can’t explain it, but it was like that and, and, and, BAWOOSH! The spell broke!”

“Hoho, is that so?”

“Yes, yes! Then Big Sis was all SSSP! Moving super fast and stabbing with her spear and everything went Kaboom! But we weren’t hurt. The bad guy was though.” The little boy’s voice trailed off at the end.

“Mmm. It’s not very nice to see, is it?”

“No, Uncle Fu.”

“Well, you do get used to it. We all do. It doesn’t become something nice, just another thing you have to deal with.” 

“Um. Auntie Bai? How long does it take to get used to it?”

“Hard to say, Little Treasure. It varies from person to person. But I don’t think you will be seeing much violence up here.” Her voice was nice, a happy, almost innocent laugh that was at odds with her well lived in face.

“Mmm. It is so beautiful up here!” Little Treasure’s head bobbed up and down, his brand new dragon pin piercing his bun, blue and white robes looking sharp on his small body. His voice echoed over the flagstone plaza and off the white painted columns, topped with red beams that were carved and painted with vivid turquoise and emeralds and golds. Everywhere that auspicious animals could be added to the decoration, they were. Everywhere sacred symbols could be incorporated to a pattern, it was. The plaza itself sported a vast black and white yin-yang symbol, made from black basalt and white marble.

Looking down on the plaza were black and gold buildings hanging from the sides of cliffs, with the interior beams of the eaves painted green. Daoists in exquisite blue and white robes could be seen through the open windows, some meditating, others reading, or painting, or polishing their swords.

You wouldn’t want a messy sword. It would look atrocious when you went out flying. 

Flying swords criss-crossed the skies over the temple, sliding past quaint looking bamboo rafts or little rowboats as they raced to cave mansions, spirit fields, alchemy halls, crafting halls, or martial practice grounds that could withstand the power of those in the Heavenly Realm. Everything a thriving monastery could ever want was all to be found on the Mountain. 

Though little treasure did wonder about how they could keep flying through that golden dragon floating in the air. It seemed to like to follow him around, for some reason. Now and then it would run off for a while, but it always seemed to come back. He’d asked Uncle Fu about it, but was told it was special and he would learn more about it as he grew up. In the meantime, he was under strict orders not to mention it.

You never knew who was listening, after all. Although these days, they had a pretty good idea. The monastery had never been densely populated, and these days, even fewer people were about. So many people had been sent away from the mountain and were unable to return. 

“Uncle Fu? Where did those uncles who rescued me go?”

“Oh, they had some business down south. It seems a number of their family’s caravans suffered attacks from bandits, and many of their shops were wiped out. Practically simultaneously, interestingly enough. It looks like someone decided to make a move. It is not something they would normally bother with, but circumstances forced their hands.” Fu shook his head, without much regret. “Perhaps one day we shall see them again. They seem the sort to thrive in any conditions.”

“And Big Bro and Big Sis Immortal?”

“Mmm? I already told you, they are here on the mountain, just way down below. They are wandering around, just relaxing. They are doing fine.”

“Aren’t you going to bring them up here?” he asked.

This time it was Auntie Bai who shook her head. “No, child. Not for a while. Those two need to settle their cultivation down and digest their gains. They have grown too fast for too long. Time to calm their hearts in the mountains for a bit.”

“When can I see them again?”

She tapped her lip, then glanced over at Fu. “You are an immortality cultivating daoist, Junior Jin. You will see them when it is time to see them. Perhaps in a month, or a year, or a century, or in the next life. It’s all much the same.” Her voice was kinder than her words.

“Though I think it will be more like a year.” Brother Fu’s voice was bone dry. “Enough time to digest things, but not so long that they lose their urgency.”

“And besides, you will be visiting them as soon as they pick out a cave to shack up in. Don’t act like you haven’t been fussing over teas and snacks for a month now.” Bai’s spirit sense tickled the inside of Fu’s ears.

“Fuss? Since when did I fuss? With which eye did you see me fussing? Ayah! My son is right, brain damage is contagious and that hooligan Hong girl has infected you. Come, let’s see if I don’t have the cure somewhere.”

“You? You cure me? Mad Dog, did you eat the wrong thing again? Your little man had to be squired all across the Kingdom by my cutie. He’d be back to eating grubs in the jungle without her. Speaking of eating, I have something for those guts of yours. Dare to meet me on the martial practice fields?”

“Dare I? Dare you? Can you even write ‘martial?’ or has the brain damage made you as illiterate as your calligraphy looks?”

“This from the dog who needed his son to teach him the three hundred basic characters!”

“Slander. Rank slander. That’s it! I was going to spare you, but now I see the kick-to-the-head treatment plan must be accelerated.”

Jin Treasure, most junior lay brother of the Outer Court of the Ancient Crane Monastery looked up and watched the golden dragon lazily twist through the sky. The air smelled sweeter, tasted sweeter, than any he had breathed before. Everything was just so marvelous, though he still missed his parents. But it was best if he didn’t think about them, or his heart would hurt again. So he watched the golden dragon and the immortals on their flying sword and lost himself in the wonder of his new life, not hearing his saintly looking seniors carrying on the second century of their bickering. 

The two were looking forward to many more centuries of bickering to come.