AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 448 - Simple life
🕑 Added 2024-09-16 12:10:23 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Northwest India
As they trekked northwards, Amdirlain felt for minds nearby. Beside the buzz of the village thirty kilometres ahead, there were only a few hunters about, with both Human and non-Human minds. Glimpses from their eyes showed scaled bodies but, rather than the rougher scales of the Lizardfolk, they possessed fine serpentine scales. While their minds felt different, these hunters shared the same predatory focus as their Human counterparts. A skirmish between a man and five of these creatures raged to the east, the Human feeling amused by their vain attempts to harm him, and Amdirlain shut down her Telepathy again to avoid digging into something that wasn’t her concern.
Various dragons and the tribes of their followers control all lands south of here and a fair way east, past what would be the borders of Pakistan. No Indian people around since their gods still had plenty of believers. Plenty of followers means no need to seek refuge in another realm. I wonder if Kronos was manipulating things behind the scenes to ensure so many Human gods came as a group.
It was only late morning when they caught sight of the village on the river’s edge through thinning trees. A low rock wall a metre and a half tall surrounded the place, and before it was a steep ditch filled with stakes. Beyond were buildings sealed with a smooth white material, though it was flaking away in places, revealing the baked clay bricks beneath. They couldn’t see how people crossed the river from where they were, but the herders managed goats on the northern slopes where the flatter ground they travelled ascended into foothills to the north. There was an archway for a narrow gate on the western side, but Jinfeng aimed for a path that took them to the edge of the ditch directly ahead.
The approach to the village’s outskirts included a layer of beast traps along the edge of the orchards. Currently bare of leaves, the pomegranate and date trees provided little obstruction, and the guards spotted them as they wound their way through the groves. Two watchers clad in tanned leather jerkins moved along the wall to wave to them to the west but, leading the way, Jinfeng continued straight on. While one addressed Jinfeng, moving at the front of the group, the other continued to scan the trees behind them.
“Who are you?” called the older guard, his beard speckled with grey.
“Masters Kadaklan and Jinfeng, from the Monastery of the Western Reaches,” replied Jinfeng, motioning back to Kadaklan. “We’re heading north on monastery business.”
“You’re a small band to have ventured south from here,” noted the guard.
“We’re experienced travellers, and a smaller party was safer for our purposes,” replied Jinfeng. “Might we enter the village? Or do you wish to continue questioning us across this ditch?”
The guard pointed at the ditch before the low wall. “There is no gate on this side.”
Jinfeng lifted into the air, and the others followed suit. Landing on the far side in unison, she called back to the suddenly sweating guard, “Which way is the Elder’s house?”
Perhaps practitioners displaying powers isn’t as common as I understood. Or perhaps the ones capable of Ki Flight aren’t often around. Are we proving our credentials?
The guard who had spoken rushed down the short ladder and nearly slipped. Though he teetered dangerously off balance, Amdirlain restrained herself, ready to catch him with Far Hand if he actually fell.
Stumbling to a halt, he lost his casual air and bowed respectfully to Jinfeng. “Please forgive me for my rudeness, Master Jinfeng. We’ve had many claiming titles that aren’t theirs come through of late.”
Jinfeng acknowledged his bow with a slight nod. “You merely pointed out some truths. We are a small band, and there isn’t a gate on this side. I take no insult from your statements. Where might we find the Elder or accommodation for travellers?”
The guard motioned to a path leading between some household gardens. “I’ll guide you to him. His house is by the river.”
As Amdirlain and Sarah trailed at the back of the group, one villager sidled beside her, his hand outstretched.
The man aimed for Amdirlain’s sleeve rather than the pouch on her belt, so she stopped to regard him. “What is it you need?”
“What do your masters eat?” the man whispered.
“Master Kadaklan eats vegetable stews of any kind, preferably with hot spices. Master Jinfeng is more flexible, but she prefers fresh fish. Has the river provided some today?” asked Amdirlain.
“We will see to it.” The man bowed rapidly and hurried away.
The man’s public thoughts focused on the monastery’s fair reputation and his intention to ensure that the monks spoke well of the village.
The Elder’s house was a marginally larger building near the river, in sight of a footbridge that led to a walled compound on the other side; two open gates allowed her to see the barns and livestock pens within.
While Jinfeng and Kadaklan went inside the house to talk to the Elder, Amdirlain and Sarah played their role and waited by the front door. With their escort having departed, Amdirlain observed the proceeding within, unsure how a village Elder rated in the world considering what she’d heard of practitioner behaviour.
The village Elder had taken one look at their robes and bowed nervously to Kadaklan and Jinfeng, his arms raised to his face, sleeves hiding his gaze. “We have no accommodation worthy of such august personages. I’ll have a house cleared to allow you a place to rest.”
“Does the village not have an inn?” asked Jinfeng.
“Merely a common house,” replied the Elder. “Travellers are free to sleep on the floor once the drinks are no longer served in the evening.”
Kadaklan nodded. “Understandable, given your remoteness. We will take it for the night and go onwards in the morning. That will be sufficient for us. We only need some space for meditation.”
“Might I discuss some matters with you?” asked the Elder. “Some villagers and hunters are doing poorly this cold season.”
The approach of a dark-haired Mongolian boy who was barefoot despite his good-quality cotton pants and a shirt, drew her attention from the discussion.
“Honourable Monk, would you take me to the Monastery?” requested the boy.
Amdirlain looked at him critically. “You’re just approaching a random traveller?”
“I recognise your uniforms,” replied the boy.
“Where are your parents?”
“Father is out hunting and doesn’t care what I want. Mother is dead,” replied the boy.
“Who do you live with?”
The boy waved towards a solid residence further downriver; no clay bricks were visible through the whitewash. “At home by myself, it is just us. We’re new to the village.”
“When is he getting back from his hunting trip?”
The boy shrugged. “Maybe in a few days, maybe a lot longer.”
“That seems a long hunting trip,” noted Sarah.
“To find the best beasts, you must go to them.” The boy’s tone made it clear he was quoting someone. “It’s not been close to his longest trip.”
Amdirlain resisted commenting. “What’s your name?”
The question lit hope in the boy’s gaze. “Milad.”
“The monastery doesn’t accept everyone, only those who can already handle Ki,” cautioned Amdirlain. “Some years, they don’t even accept all those that pass the tests.”
“A Monk taught me the basics, and I’ve practised,” declared Milad, his fingers tracing a line along the length of his sternum. “I can feel the warmth move in my chest.”
Amdirlain held her hands out to Milad. “Take my hands and show me.”
Milad’s brow furrowed as he shifted his weight about.
“I need you to touch you so I can have my Ki follow yours,” explained Amdirlain. “When you move your Ki, I’ll feel it.”
The boy shyly took her hand, flickering a nervous glance at Sarah, who stood nearby with her hand resting on her chain belt.
Oh, he hasn’t held a girl’s hand before?
Amdirlain let a thread of her Ki sink into his skin as Master Cyrus had taught her with the Xaos guards. “Start when you are ready.”
She saw Milad’s pulse ease and, as the artery in his neck slowed, energy moved from the chakra beneath his solar plexus, flowed around his heart, and then travelled onto his throat. From there, it looped back around and eventually formed a figure eight.
“Your Ki moved between three chakras. How many lessons did you have from the travelling Monk?”
“It amused him for a morning. I’ve practised consistently for years since I met him,” replied Milad.
“What did your dad say about wanting to learn?”
Milad’s shoulders slumped slightly. “He said once I gave up, holding still would help with hunting.”
“I’ll see what the masters have to say,” advised Amdirlain.
The conversation inside stopped at her tap on the door, and Kadaklan called for her to enter. Within the house, she found the front room ran the width of the house, a blended living area, dining room, and kitchen. The furnishings were simple but carefully looked after, and the wood showed minimal scratching.
When you can’t replace it easily, you take care of it.
Kadaklan looked at her questioningly. “What is it, Tuya?”
It’s the first name I’ve used that wasn’t close to mine, but Mongolian names don’t start with an ‘Am’ sound.
“A young boy outside has learned to cycle his Ki. He requested to travel with us to the monastery, Master,” replied Amdirlain, ignoring the village Elder. “His father is currently absent from the village.”
Jinfeng came out and looked Milad over.
The boy didn’t hesitate. He clasped his hands together before his chest and bowed deeply. “Honoured Master, thank you for speaking with me.”
Jinfeng stepped up before him and held out a hand. “Show me your Ki.”
The boy timidly placed his hand on hers, and his expression relaxed as he felt the warmth beneath his sternum. He sent the energy cycling before his heart and throat in a series of loops before getting it to race to his fingertips.
“How old are you?”
“Twelve winters,” replied Milad.
“You look younger,” noted Jinfeng. “We’ll need to speak to your father.”
“I don’t know when he’ll be back,” protested Milad.
“Does he not give you an intended time?”
Milad lowered his head. “He’s already overdue.”
Jinfeng folded her arms and stared at him. “You’re looking to leave when he’s gone?”
“He’s run overtime before. He’s so rarely home that he’d be better off without me,” reported Milad.
A tight frown showed through her usual composure. “Family is important. He might have a different view on the matter.”
“I just slow him down.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If I weren’t around, he wouldn’t have to keep returning to one spot,” replied Milad. “I hear him speaking to the other hunters, telling tales of distant lands he saw with Mother.”
“What’s your father’s name?” asked Amdirlain.
“Dario,” whispered Milad.
Amdirlain held out her hand again. “Give me your hand.”
“Why?” Milad swallowed back threatening tears.
“So I can trace the echo of your father’s life from you,” explained Amdirlain.
I don’t need his hand to trace his father with Clairsentience, but it is better if I make it seem like there are restrictions.
“You can do that?” breathed Milad, his eyes going wide. Kadaklan remained composed and merely nodded, but Amdirlain caught the amusement in his mind.
Yeah, not even a day before I’m meddling. Now, what do I tell Milad so he doesn’t wonder how I found him?
“It’s a rare technique,” said Amdirlain. “Picture your father in your mind, so your Ki calls to your bond with him.”
That’s technically true since some regard Ki as life force, and the technique uses the bloodline link to find him.
The techniques showed her a leather-clad man with stern features and a traditional long Mandarin queue instead of Mongolian features. He sat on a stream overhang, cleaning a thin sabre while ignoring his blood-soaked clothing. His position overlooked grassland mounded with decimated serpentine-scaled bodies. With the battle over, hordes of birds feasted on the remains, but he didn’t shift position.
He is the same guy I spotted clashing with a small group earlier. It looks like things escalated.
Sarah’s brows raised when Amdirlain’s expression tightened.
‘He’s not hurt. Apparently, among his quarries are the serpentine species to the south,’ projected Amdirlain.
“What do you do for food while he’s gone?” asked Kadaklan from the doorway.
“Villagers give me things in trade for the meat he brings in,” explained Milad. “Sometimes cheeses, fruits, or they get me to join them for meals.”
Sarah clicked her tongue curiously. “What does your dad mainly hunt?”
“Monsters,” replied Milad. “He trades the meat but takes their bones and skins when he goes to the towns.”
“Your father looks unharmed, but he’s been in a fight with some of the serpentine folk of the south,” advised Amdirlain.
Milad sighed in relief. “They get upset when he hunts nagas and if a nest gets on his trail they keep following.”
Jinfeng hummed. “I’d heard that a Naga’s servants don’t stop chasing their master’s killers.”
“Dad chops them up and leaves their heads as a warning to stay out of Human lands,” Milad’s recital came in a dry, matter-of-fact tone as if commenting on the fact that water is wet.
“Have the wind carry words to him and let him know I wish to speak to him about his son,” instructed Jinfeng before she added more through the mental link. ‘Unless you want to stay here longer?’
Amdirlain sent a Message to his location advising him that Master Jinfeng of the Monastery of the Western Reaches wishes to speak to him about Milad’s Ki talents. Dario flowed to his feet with his blade at the ready, the tension easing when he spotted the Message orb in the air, reciting the last of her words.
He moved to the corpses and discarded weapons disappeared from the ground before he rushed northwards and dragged the scrying focus with him.
Okay, he’s got a storage object and can move at a decent pace; if he can keep that speed up, he might be home tonight.
Amdirlain looked at Milad and smiled. “It appears your father is heading this way.”
“I’ll wait at home,” said Milad, scampering off towards the house he’d pointed to earlier.
“The Elder says some people need healing,” advised Kadaklan. “I’ll tend to them after lunch. As for our accommodations, the common house is upriver. He apologises, but it’s the only option available unless he kicks someone out of their house for the night.”
The place was simple to find, and the smell of unwashed bodies, spirits, and ale was unmistakable from a few houses away. A rough wooden deck surrounded the clay brick building, with men in rawhide leathers and patched clothing lounging about and handing over brass coins for mugs brought to them by an old woman and a young serving girl. The building was as rough in appearance as the customers, with arm-length sections of whitewash having flaked away.
‘You want to blend in,’ projected Sarah.
‘Now I know why so many game adventures start in taverns; the odour of unwashed bodies and stale ale drives the adventurers to want to kill someone,’ Amdirlain returned.
Amdirlain moved past Kadaklan to open the common room door and inspect the interior. Seven low, badly scarred tables with mats alongside them were the only seating in the room; four of them ran in a line along one wall and were occupied by a group of twenty scraggly hunters with polearms, swords, and bows leant up in the corners. The others were empty, with most patrons out in the afternoon sunlight either for its fading sun or to avoid the noise from the hunters.
Even as they sat at an empty table, the tavern owner brought over a platter with a bowl of vegetable stew for Kadaklan and a plate with grilled fish before Jinfeng. Broad plates with a mix of flatbread, stewed meat, dried dates, and cheese were set in the middle of the table, with smaller plates passed to Amdirlain and Sarah before he retreated. The personal service received low grumbles from the hunters until the man returned behind the bench and resumed pouring their drinks. The older serving woman shooed the teenage girl away from the mugs and took over two trays at once.
One older man with grey through his goatee gestured towards their group. Amdirlain casually rested a hand above the knife-scarred table, and the wood pulled itself back together until the only damage was the sections of stripped varnish. The casual use of magic caused the men watching them to find the contents of their cups to be incredibly interesting.
“Spoilsport,” muttered Sarah. “What are we doing after lunch?”
“The Elder is spreading the word for anyone that needs healing to come see me here,” advised Kadaklan. “He tried to offer a rate that would have stung them in spring, so I told him to keep the coin.”
Amdirlain nodded and turned a cold eye at some hunters who had suddenly perked up. “Are you in need of a Healer’s attention now?”
“A few of us are,” confirmed the goateed man.
“None of you look ready to pass away, so after I’ve eaten,” commented Kadaklan.
The man slapped the others on either side of him and bowed from his waist, forcing them to follow his example.
Their issues were mostly relatively minor, but Kadaklan also handled older wounds, such as the regrowth of frostbitten fingertips and toes. Throughout the afternoons, various villagers stopped in, and Kadaklan administered healing or provided them with recommendations to boost their health. Sarah pretended to read a scroll during that time, while Jinfeng and Amdirlain meditated. She concealed the light from her sigil and stored the Ki for later use.
As Dario entered the common room, Jinfeng looked up. Though Dario strode away from it, the door didn’t shut, and Milad shyly slid inside a moment later. The villagers who had lingered longer drinking paid them ‘absolutely’ no attention when Dario settled at their table.
Dario’s gaze fixed on Jinfeng. “Are you Master Jinfeng, or was I given the wrong description?”
“I’m Master Jinfeng,” confirmed Jinfeng calmly.
“What’s this I hear about you taking my son to the Monastery of the Western Reaches?”
“He asked, and after confirming he could move his Ki, I said I’d need to talk to you,” said Jinfeng.
He waved her away dismissively at Amdirlain. “You confirmed he can handle Ki, Master Jinfeng?”
Did he imply his son lied to him? Or is he trying to suggest that I messed up?
Amdirlain resisted the temptation to listen to his mind, and Sarah's amusement trickled through their link.
“Yes, he can move it between three chakras, which is quite the feat for someone who is mostly self-taught, let alone at his age,” said Jinfeng. “He’ll soon hit roadblocks and might develop bad habits if he doesn’t get proper instruction.”
“Fine, but I’m not putting him in your care. His mother would come back to haunt me if I entrusted his education to such a provincial order,” declared Dario.
Jinfeng didn’t blink. “And what do you consider a suitable order?”
“The Monastery of the White Jade Rings.”
“That would take considerable influence even to get them to consider him,” stated Jinfeng. “That’s also a long way to travel, and if they’re overly critical, other local sects might turn their gaze from him.”
“That’s our problem, not yours,” snapped Dario.
“That is true, but are you purposely seeking to make his Dao harder?” asked Jinfeng.
“Life is hard. One needs to be strong to achieve their best,” retorted Dario. “Since you say he is talented, he needs a place that will challenge him properly.”
Dario looked flatly at Amdirlain. “Milad described you, Wu Jen. It was your voice in the message orb, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Tricksters,” snorted Dario.
Amdirlain ignored the challenge in his cold eyes. He snorted again before heading for the door, signalling Milad to walk out first.
Does he have a chip on his shoulder with Wu Jen and the Monastery of the Western Reaches?
After their meal, Amdirlain spent the early evening helping Kadaklan with a short clinic for those who’d returned from the fields. Besides passing him things from the kit he’d laid out on the table, she applied Psychometabolism techniques to the worn-out villagers, further boosting their health.
In the morning, when they were heading across the river, they saw Dario already further up into the hills with Milad in tow; the pair weren’t following the river path but cut directly to the northeast.
“At least he supported his son’s desire even if our Monastery didn’t get a strong candidate,” murmured Jinfeng.
“If they make it there and if Milad gets accepted,” corrected Kadaklan. “Nothing in life is certain, even if Dario has the contacts to get someone at that monastery to listen to his request.”
“He’s going to wear his son out going that pace,” said Sarah. “He leaves him in the village for weeks on end.”
“Not unusual in some places, but that’s normally the local children. It was certainly odd for a stranger to rely on others to care for their children,” said Kadaklan.
“He definitely wasn’t happy with him for approaching us,” offered Jinfeng. “Some fathers can be unreasonable unless everyone flawlessly obeys their instructions for the family.”
Kadaklan clicked his tongue. “I wonder who hired him to come to such a remote village.”
“You don’t think he was here running from something or someone?” asked Amdirlain.
“If he were, he wouldn’t be so willing to go to the Middle Kingdom,” said Kadaklan. “He could have had his son slip quietly into our Monastery, and no one would have been the wiser. Just a distant village boy found to have learnt to move his Ki.”
When they got beyond the furthest herds, Amdirlain took the plunge. “The Monastery has issues?”
“All groups have those that don’t like them, and there is a history of competition among monasteries,” said Jinfeng. “Some families take the age and prestige of different monasteries more seriously than others. He looks like someone from the Middle Kingdom, so he might have connections to draw on. I’m also curious about what brought him here.”
And I’m not digging into his brain.
“And this Monastery of the White Jade Rings?” asked Amdirlain to change the subject.
“Has the most ancient of lineages,” sighed Jinfeng. “One that certain families deem more important than recent achievements. They receive imperial patronage and attract equal measures of great talent and those seeking power for its own sake.”
Amdirlain nodded, and they set off again.
“You’ve certainly gotten better at restraining your Charisma,” noted Kadaklan, when they were out of sight of the village. “People aren’t eating out of your hand like they did on Qil Tris.”
“I don’t mind,” said Amdirlain. “I prefer my abilities to be under my control and for people’s opinions to be their own. Even people like the disease spreaders. I broke their viewpoint down and made them look at their deeds, but I didn’t control what they did afterwards.”
“You added doubt,” Jinfeng said. “Maybe they’ll come to a better understanding of their goddess. I wonder what Quan Yin would think about the Lizardfolk Goddess of Life and your merciful approach.”
“Let’s get going, shall we,” grumbled Sarah. “Before we end up with a Primordial visitor.”
Amdirlain didn’t need further prompting.
Over the following days, they regularly checked Sarah’s orbiting satellite to ensure they didn’t have to retrace their route as they meandered northward, allowing Kadaklan to tend to the villages in the hinterlands.
Comments
CringeWorthyStudios
Well that guy was kind of an ass. Thanks for the chapter!
James Skinner
TFTC!
