3seed
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3.23. Grim Resolutions
🕑 Added 2022-10-29 17:15:50 +0000 UTCA Camouflaged Krees poked her head up from the stairwell. When she saw that the fighting was done, she padded up the rest of the stairs. I was still working on undoing Mumu's Siphon, and ignored the scout approaching us. It wouldn’t do to give away that I could see her. From the way Mumu tensed, I gathered that she sensed Krees too.
The scout looked over the scene, taking a moment to examine the spears still embedded in Borba’s body, before retreating back to the stairwell. A moment later, Aslishtei strode up the stairs, and went to the peltwei in the center of the room. Rulus followed behind her, as did Krees, now visible again.
Only three of the peltwei remained alive, their spirits attached to their bodies. The rest had either already departed or hung around as ghosts, afraid and confused.
Aslishtei knelt by the still living. “Go get the master healer,” she instructed Rulus, and the bodyguard ran to the stairs.
I caught the scent of Nature’s Spring, and saw Krees’s hands one of the smaller peltwei, a child.
“Haol, go,” Mumu said.
He hesitated, searching her eyes first. Whatever he saw must’ve satisfied him, because he nodded and jogged over to where Aslishtei was. A moment later, there came the scent of the Healing Water spell from that direction.
For a while nothing else happened. Long minutes passed, during which I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that Borba was dead. The fight’s aftermath had left me dazed, both because it’d been a mad scramble and because of the strangeness of the magic involved. Aslishtei’s snake had been scary enough, but the cutter hawks and butterflies... they gave me the willies something fierce.
For a while, Borba had seemed invincible, yet the proof that he wasn’t lay beside me, left sprawled on the ground after the fight. And his ghost was forlorn and weighted down by thick, dark bands of guilty anger. Streaks of hunger ran through him, and he stared down at his body.
It was an important lesson: no one was invincible. There would always be someone or something stronger. This wasn’t the time to reflect on what had happened, though. The intensity of Borba's gaze didn’t bode well.
“You need to move along,” I said.
His turned to search for where my voice had come from, but didn’t appear to see me yet. Which was... all right for now. Until Yuki and I finished treating Mumu.
“His ghost,” she said. It hadn’t been a question either, just a weary statement.
“It’s bad,” I replied.
“What can we do?”
“I need a few minutes to get myself together.” My hands no longer shook after every battle, but I did feel the need to let my body wind down from the fight’s full-throttle ferocity. More importantly, my heart was disturbed by what we’d done. Intellectually, I knew it’d been necessary to kill Borba, and I’d hardened myself for the doing of it, but the aftermath left only sorrow.
“We can’t do this again,” I said. “No more forced mules.”
“Yes... Inleio... our Inleio was wrong.”
It hurt Mumu to say those words, but she did, and I’d never been prouder of her. Relieved too—I didn’t know if our lodge could take another Borba happening again.
Just as Yuki wrapped up clearing the Siphon from Mumu’s arm, Vorkut showed up trailing a line of land soldiers. The cavalry had apparently arrived.
This batch looked different than the gate guards. For one thing, they were lighter armed and armored—not scouts, but something else again. When I checked their leader, he had the Natural Diplomat talent, and the title of Peacemaker.
A couple of his soldiers split off to check on us and Borba’s body. I was too young for my joints to creak, but I felt every inch of the effort to stand up to talk to them. Mumu waved me off, though, and gestured towards the crowd gathered around Aslishtei. I nodded before making my way over.
Three children lay on the ground, afflicted by Borba’s Siphon. They ranged in age from about seven to thirteen years old. Everyone older was dead, their faces frozen in agony.
Vorkut knelt beside the oldest. His hands hovered about a foot above her body, and were covered by a thin film of mana and qi—the mix hard to sort out. I caught scent of nature, spirit, and some earth too.
“It is the same illness as the others I’ve previously examined,” he reported to Aslishtei. “You say it is a parasitic qi of some kind?”
“A function of the criminal’s talent,” she answered.
Vorkut turned to Makul. “Go call Brother Ekthei. His specialty is qi-based illnesses.”
“I can help too,” I said. “I’ve been cleaning up after Borba for a couple of days now.”
The master healer scowled at me. “You must not. This work is the province of the Healer’s Lodge.”
“He speaks of trees and animals marked by the criminal’s talent,” Aslishtei clarified.
“Yes, that’s right. Borba was gathering power from them, so we had to cut off the supply.” I tiredly sat down next to the youngest of the peltwei.
Sendret (Human)
Talents: Natural Magician
I frowned, then checked the other children. All three had damaged magic-related talents. When I went to investigate more closely, however, Rulus grabbed me from behind to pull me away.
“The master said that you cannot.”
Over the years, I’d gotten much better at controlling my temper—I’d certainly had enough practice while raising two kids—but I’d been through a lot the last couple of days. I had to count to twenty before I could turn around and calmly-reasonably-forcefully say, “Touch me without my permission again, and I’ll tear out your throat.”
Okay, maybe I wasn’t that calm, but there were kids here whose futures had been destroyed by Borba. In this world, talents counted for everything.
Rulus squared off with me, ready to brawl, but caught himself. He’d taken the threat I’d posed seriously, and then realized that I was only eight-years old. He relaxed his guard, which only proved how much an idiot he really was.
It wasn’t just me who thought so too. Haol had faded into the background when the healers had shown up, and he smirked a little. Even Aslishtei seemed to shake her head.
“This is not the time for petty games and politics,” she said, “but the law is the law, and the master healer is correct. You may treat yourself and your family with your healing abilities, as well as provide emergency aid to others, but that’s all. Once the injured or ill person is safe, then only a healer may treat them.”
“That’s true for even a spell like Nature’s Spring?”
Vorkut shifted to the second-youngest child, and spoke as he worked. “That spell is allowed, as are other general support spells. It’s treatment that is restricted, otherwise every Skei, Rein, and Lulu would try their hand at healing, doing more harm than good with their unskilled talents.”
“I—” I began, but didn’t know how to follow up.
To restrict healing spells to only one group felt stupid to me, but at the same time, I understood the need to verify qualifications. I mean, I knew that I had the foremost expert in qi inhabiting my body, but that wasn’t exactly something I was willing to share. And even if I did, it wouldn’t help, since I wasn’t a member of their lodge. That, that was the frustrating part. If I had the qualifications, I should be able to practice the art.
I didn’t like monopolies in my previous life, but I was coming to hate them in this one.
I was struggling to articulate an argument that would make sense to the people around me, when Teila came up. Her voice was subdued as she said, “Eight, Haol, you’re needed.”
I glanced over and saw that the spirits of both Mumu and Tegen were disturbed. “Borba appears to have damaged the children’s ability to cast spells,” I said to Vorkut.
A hint of surprise leaked onto his face. “Yes, that’s right. Their meridians are damaged. When our Brother Ekthei arrives, he should be able to tell us if it can be mended.”
I sighed, and tucked my anger away. The healers were dangerous and annoying, but they at least knew their stuff. The kids should be all right. I made a promise to myself, though, to check up on them later.
At the other side of the room, Tegen was on one knee, with Mumu quietly murmuring in his ear. The nearby land soldiers were in the process of searching Borba’s body, but I couldn’t help notice the sympathetic glances they sent his way.
He’d looked okay when I left him. Did I miss an injury? “What’s going on?”
“Do you need water?” Haol asked.
“Healing Water isn’t helping,” Mumu said.
Tegen winced as he stood. “When I circulated my qi to ease the discomfort in my body, I felt like my head and shoulders were on fire. My first thought was to try Nature’s Spring, but the spell wouldn’t... couldn’t complete. My grasp of the qi disappears partway.”
“And I’m unable to move the qi needed for Spiral Pierce,” Mumu said. “The meridians in my arm refuse to accept it. My hope is that your... special talent may provide some insight.”
We ate up all of Borba’s qi, Yuki said. There should be none remaining inside either Tegen or Mumu. The only way for us to know more, though, would be by entering their bodies, and we haven’t done so to any creature that hasn’t given their permission.
I feel like the connection is pretty clear between the peltwei kids’ damaged talents and what’s happening with Mumu and Tegen. There’s an internal injury, one that Healing Water or—
“You’ve tried Nature’s Spring?” I asked.
“I have,” Teila said.
“And I felt no benefit,” Tegen added.
“Same here,” Mumu said.
“Then I think we have a problem—the survivors over there are facing the same issue: their ability to cast spells appears to have been compromised.”
“I see.” Mumu sighed. “And what does your talent recommend?”
Mumu and Tegen don’t want us inside them, so there’s only the Healer’s Lodge for help.
“That you consult the healer, unless you’re willing to let my talent work inside you.” I wiggled my fingers over my heart dantian.
Mumu considered her options, and said, “Then let us talk to the healer.”
Poor Yuki, they tried to hide their disappointment, but I still felt the edges of it.
Decision made, my team trooped to Vorkut. In the time I’d been gone, the children had fallen asleep. Their breathing remained shallow, like they were suffering from bad dreams, but they didn’t appear to be in pain.
As for Vorkut, he’d found a cushion, and made himself comfortable. There was apparently nothing he else could do until his Brother Ekthei arrived. The physical wounds on the children had been dealt with.
Makul stood just beside and behind him, while Aslishtei knelt beside Sendret’s head, softly stroking the child’s feathers. They all listened as Mumu explained the situation.
Vorkut nodded along, but when Mumu got to the point where she asked for help diagnosing the issue, he said, “I cannot. There is an injunction within our lodge to refuse healing to any hunter from Voorhei until the dispute between our lodges has been resolved.” He cleared his throat. “The decree was made this morning, but know that I take no pleasure in carrying it out.”
That got us all frowning, and the repercussions didn’t bode well for our lodge. Healing Water was great for dealing with physical injuries and poisons, but did nothing for illnesses or degenerative diseases.
“Do the alchemists have anything that can help?” Teila asked into the silence that’d descended.
Vorkut sniffed, but didn’t say anything.
It was Aslishtei who offered us hope: “There are elixirs to strengthen the meridians in one’s body, but repair is something else entirely. Those require specialized knowledge and ingredients. I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard the alchemists recently finished processing the remains of a golden slumber. Something like that might be able to help.”
“Oh, are they almost done? The slumber was harvested near Voorhei,” I clarified for her.
“They will owe us money soon,” Mumu said. “We might be able to get a deal on potions to heal Tegen’s and my meridians.”
When the Alchemist’s Lodge had harvested the golden slumber, they’d offered to buy the creature outright. It’d been a tempting offer too—fourteen antaak—but Uncle Kila had interceded. He’d convinced the lodge to pay for the alchemists to process the golden slumber, and then sell the refined goods back to them.
The proposition was a risky, since we were essentially betting that they’d find more of use after it was processed than they’d first estimated, but given the number and potency of the mushtrooms’ talents, we were okay with taking that chance. Even if it meant delaying us getting our money for the couple of seasons it would take the alchemists to safely process the slumber.
“We should visit Kila,” Mumu continued. “He can arrange for the purchase—”
Tegen interrupted her. “Tomorrow. The team needs to rest.”
Mumu gazed down at her arm. “I don’t feel any detioration, do you?”
“No,” Tegen said, “and there’s only pain when I try to use my qi.”
“I don’t like the idea having my spell casting crippled for the day,” Mumu said.
“It might be even longer than that,” Tegen said. “It will take time to arrange for the potions.”
“Maybe we send a messenger to Uncle Kila first,” I offered. “We can have him start the process before we meet.”
Mumu thought through the options, but they were limited—unless she had a change of heart about Yuki...
“Tomorrow it is,” she said with sigh. “We’ll send a messenger asking him to meet us tomorrow and to reach out to the alchemists too.”
It’s okay, friend. They’ll come around one day.
We know, Yuki said, confident. They knew their own worth, and were just waiting for the others to recognize it too.
###
We were heartsore and tired, but we still had a ways to go before we could rest. Mumu had to make arrangements for Borba’s body to be sent back to Voorhei for his family, and then a determination was needed for what to do with his light.
Technically, his light should also be sent to his family, but Borba’s killing spree would likely rack up a number of large fines against them, and it’d have to be sold to pay down those debts. Even then, that might not be enough, and there was a chance the family will be sold into slavery to make up the difference.
All of Borba’s children were grown, so no kids would be affected, but the whole thing still left a bad taste in my mouth.
Damn, damn, and damn. What a lousy end to this whole business.
And then the situation got worse—Borba’s ghost had been fixated on his corpse this whole time, but the hunger threading through his spirit made him restless. It drove him to break free of the fixation’s grip; he looked up and spotted the other ghosts.
His attention was like a rusty-red knife slashing through the air. That drew the peltwei ghosts out from their own confusion, and several gestured as if to cast spells back at him. Nothing happened, though—the magic didn’t respond to their call. Borba leaped at them.
And I intercepted, infusing spirit mana into the haft of the spear I’d borrowed. Borba was flung aside, through the nearest wall.
The land soldiers panicked, as did the healers. They all drew their weapons, but Tegen’s voice overwhelmed the room. “Hold!”
“It’s Borba,” I spit out. “He’s going after the peltwei ghosts.”
He’d disappeared on the other side of the wall, and I took the time to reinforce the spear until it glowed to my spirit eyes. Tenna’s Gift, I left in place. There was no way I’d touch it with so many unknown spirits around.
In the periphery, Aslishtei took charge: “Clear space for him, and stay out of the way. Move the children downstairs. Everyone. Downstairs.”
Well, it didn’t matter. I had Borba’s attention, which was what I wanted. The rest was a matter of will; we wouldn’t be fighting in the tradtiional sense. Assuming his ghost didn’t just run off. How would I even begin to track him if he did? I wondered, but only briefly.
Borba smashed into my back, distending Tenna’s Gift and forcing me to take a step to keep my balance. The gift only protected the living—spirits weren’t affected—so Ikfael ended up taking the brunt of the impact.
She'd been quiet during the fight with Borba when he’d been alive, which was just as well given her condition. I’d worried at would happen if she needed to intercede on my behalf again.
Apparently, I didn’t need to worry. The plug on my water skin was forced open by the pressure inside, and a stream lashed out at Borba’s ghost; he flinched like he’d been whipped. Then, a needle of spirit-infused stone punched through his spirit where his heart would’ve been. At the same time, the water whip struck, carving into him.
The ghostly vapors of his body slowly filled in the gaps, but Borba must’ve decided that maybe attacking a spirit of the land wasn’t a good idea. When he turned to run, though, the water whip wrapped around his neck.
A moment later, Ikfael appeared beside me, her eyes intent and her paws outstretched as she controlled the water. With a gesture, the stone needle was pulled from where it’d been embedded in the wall and sent piercing through Borba’s skull.
A ghostly wind blew, and I turned to see that the peltwei had managed to get their act together. The three remaining elders appeared to be collaborating on a magic. I wasn’t affected thanks to Tenna’s Gift, but the remains of Borba’s face bulged.
Ikfael glanced sideways at me, the expression familiar. Well, what are you waiting for?
I took a breath to focus my will, then said, “Lay down your rage and your hunger. They will not serve you. Lay down your despair and your vengefulness. They will only weigh you down. A third time I say unto you, lay down your pain and suffering. Let them go and find your way to peace instead.”
Borba resisted, his hunger driving him to cling to the world. His will opposed mine, yet it was undermined by Ikfael’s and the ghosts’ attacks. His claws reached for me, as if to use me as an anchor, but they slid aside on Tenna’s Gift. His legs stretched out behind him, as if he was being pulled like taffy. Drawn out more and more, until the legs faded from view, then the torso, and with a pop the rest of him disappeared into the afterworld.
There was something waiting on the other side for him, but I couldn’t gather much more than the sense of their presence.
The ghostly wind shifted directions; it spread to the walls and passed through them. I waited a couple of beats, but whatever they’d just done didn’t seem to need a response from me, so I rushed to check over Ikfael. She was about the same as before—her spirit dim, but she did seem more refreshed. Taking out her frustrations on the ghost had done her some good.
“You can stop your fussing,” she signed. “That Borba attacked me directly, and my retaliation was my own will acting for my own good. There was no unbalanced exchange required.”
“I was worried.”
“I know you were,” she signed, and patted my hand.
The peltwei ghosts approached and bowed to her. I saw their beaks move, but she just quirked her head in response.
“It's weird to me that you can’t hear them,” I said.
“The dead are different than the spirits of the land.” Ikfael side-eyed me. “You already know it’s possible for one to change into the other, and when they do, they move closer to the world of the living. We spirits stand inbetween, only half affected by Tenna’s Gift.”
The ghosts realized they werne’t being heard, and their beaks shut in frustration. About then, the ghosts who’d scattered earlier phased in through the walls, returning to the leisteila. They held each other, and some were crying. Others looked like they were pleading with the elders.
The oldest of the elders gestured—the meaning impossible to read—and all at once, the peltwei sat in small groups. Then they talked to each other, hesitant at first, but over time it ramped up to the level of vigorous discourse. It was genuinely one of the strangest things I’d ever seen: a room full of crow-headed ghosts talking like they were at an Italian café.
One of the peltwei winked out; there’d been a brief sense of somewhere else spilling into the room, and then they were gone. The rest seemed to sigh afterward, and an edge I hadn’t noticed earlier eased.
The pace of chatter picked up, and another peltwei vansished. Another stood, he looked up as if to the sky, and then jumped into nothingness. One by one, more began to blink out of existance, and each time, I only caught a glimpse of the other side. It was so lively, and so many people gathered there to welcome the dead; I felt like I was watching a murmuration but only in fragments.
Finally, there was only the eldest left. He looked around the leisteila, then sent his gaze down the stairs to the floor below. There was reluctance in his eyes. His family was leaving three children behind.
“I know what you are thinking,” Ikfael signed, “and we are not an orphanage.”
I... well, I did consider it, and Bihei could use more help around the longhouse, but these were city kids. Assuming their meridians could be healed, they had bright futures as magicians too. They wouldn’t want villager lives.
“Will the other peltwei families take them in?”
Ikfael shrugged, and gestured that she didn’t know.
A couple of minutes passed just like that—Ikfael reluctant to go back into the statue, the elder peltwei reluctant to move on, and me reluctant to move period. I was so tired.
“How goes it up there?” Mumu called.
“Borba’s gone, but we seem to have hit an impasse with the last of the ghosts. He’s worried about the kids.”
“Thikilei remains?” The voice was Aslishtei’s.
“Uh, maybe? What does he look like?”
“A distinguised personage, regal of bearing, keen of mind, and robust of talent. He is... was called the Wind of North.”
An impressive fellow for sure, but— “Was he about your height? With streaks of silver among his feather, and wearing a gold chain and pendant of—”
“— star rising above a tower? Yes, that’s him.” Aslishtei came running up the stairs. “Where is he?” I pointed, and she bowed deep towards Thikilei, until her beak touched her knees.
Then, she gestured towards him, an inviation to sit at one of the tables. She made herself comfortable, and was about to speak when she noticed me still in the room. Ikfael had made herself scarce by then.
“If you please, this is a private conversation.”
“He won’t be able to hear you,” I said, stating the obvious.
Aslishtei’s voice was solemn: “I know, but the act of sitting and talking is important on its own. He will understand my intentions from it. Now, please.”
“Okay, then just call out if you need me.” I headed downstairs, and saw my team and the land soldiers gathered. The injured kids were there too, but the healers were missing.
Mumu saw me wondering, and said. “There were deaths in the other residences. Apparently, Borba marked a few before holing up in this one. The healers have gone to examine the dead.”
My stomach sank, and the frustration must’ve been obvious on my face.
Mumu looked as spent as I felt. She continued: “But the deed is done. Our Inleo, ourbrothers and sisters, and our Voorhei has been avenged.”
“And the price was too damn high.”
Mumu nodded again, and so did the others on my team. We all felt it was true. Now, we just had to make sure this situation never happened again. I pledged it to myself: I’d never let the lodge create another Borba. Not on my watch.
Comments
Adrian Gorgey
I like that too
LifeOfConfusion
“Grim Resolutions” both from resolving Borba and Eights resolve to not allow it to happen again
3seed
Huh... maybe "The Hunger and Reluctance of Ghosts."
Adrian Gorgey
Hmmm, Borba made me think of the concept of Preta in Buddhism, or 'hungry ghosts'. Maybe something around that? From wikipedia: "Pretas are believed to have been false, corrupted, compulsive, deceitful, jealous or greedy people in a previous life. As a result of their karma, they are afflicted with an insatiable hunger for a particular substance or object ... They are described as human-like, but with sunken, mummified skin, narrow limbs, enormously distended bellies and long, thin necks. This appearance is a metaphor for their mental situation: they have enormous appetites, signified by their gigantic bellies, but a very limited ability to satisfy those appetites, symbolized by their slender necks."
