Mask of the Fallen: A Cultivation/Progression Fantasy Series: (War Priest Book One)

by Harmon Cooper

  Yet now, as Arik looked out at the vast expanse of increasingly white rock interspersed with pale red stone, he wished he had spent a bit more time not only studying history, but also geology. A mirage of sorts took shape, Arik squinting for a moment, wondering if it was real, if there truly was an oasis just about a mile off. He turned to it, Meosa’s voice coming to him just as he changed his trajectory.

  “Where are you going?”

  “There, water…”

  “There is no water here, my boy, unless you’re talking about the water we are carrying with us.”

  “Shade,” Arik said. “Trees…”

  “Nothing like that exists out here. It is an illusion, disciple. Continue straight, and try to focus. Do not let the desert trick you.”

  “No,” Arik said, now certain that there were palm trees, and a pool of sparkling blue water the same color as the sky. “I see it.”

  “You are uniquely stubborn and growing increasingly delusional from the day’s travel. Continue straight, toward that rock that looks like a giant’s finger. We will find shade under the rock. You should eat as well.”

  “But…” Arik saw a large fish jump out of the water, its scaled body glinting in the sun, creating a rainbow-like effect. Rather than admit that it was indeed an illusion, he corrected his direction and moved on.

  From a distance, the rock that Meosa had pointed out didn’t look so large. It was an oddity, sure, especially considering the flat, hardtop soil that surrounded it. But as they grew closer Arik realized just how tall the stone was, the rock formation looming over the landscape like a cathedral. Arik couldn’t tell how high it was, but it was certainly taller than any building he had ever seen, and the empty space around it made it seem that much larger.

  Arik reached the rock, and once he did, he took a seat in the shade that it provided, the temperature dropping to some degree. He removed his bag and rummaged around it for some of the food that Indra had given him. His supplies were dwindling, but if they were indeed closer to Mogra, it wouldn’t be that much longer until he could have real food again.

  “Drink,” Meosa instructed him. “You will never run out of water with me around.”

  Arik had come to understand that Meosa’s presence amplified the water source, the aqueous kami both thriving off it and able to control it to an insane degree. The waterskin had yet to deplete, even though Arik had continued to drink from it over the day.

  What time is it? he thought as he looked up at the sky, but he didn’t know much about the position of the sun, nor how long the days lasted this far south.

  After a short rest in the shade, Arik took off jogging again, reluctant at first, but eventually finding a steady pace. This was his choice, after all.

  “I know this may seem strange now,” Meosa said once Arik had been running for a while, “but back in my time, it was common for people to cross this way with the help of a kami such as myself. Of course, we are a higher being than a mere human, so we generally offered our aid in exchange for something. Like what, you ask?”

  Arik didn’t respond.

  “Money was no use to us then and wouldn’t be now, but there are other favors we were able to obtain having a human in our proverbial pockets. Well, not many things, but some things. And humans are social creatures which benefit us to some degree. Sure, I could just do what I did back in Omoto and convince someone that I am a voice in their head, and I’m not saying that I haven’t done something of that sort before, but long-term schemes require—”

  “—What’s that?” Arik asked as he noticed something in the distance. He blinked a few times, not certain of what he was witnessing.

  From his perspective, it seemed as if two figures were fighting, their moves exaggerated and fast, much quicker than any battle Arik had ever been part of or witnessed.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t get involved…” Meosa said.

  “So it’s real? What I’m seeing is real?”

  “Unless I am now suffering from desert hallucinations, yes, it’s real. If you head toward the left now, we may be able to use the coverage of that rock there to prevent them from seeing us. One will eventually win, and who knows if they will come after us next.”

  Arik considered his options, and naturally found himself turning toward the fight.

  “Why did I know that you were going to do this?” Meosa moaned as they started off again. Once they got a little closer, he spoke again. “This isn’t a normal fight. Listen to me, disciple, you need to turn back now… You need to…”

  One of the figures was struck hard enough that they were sent backward at least thirty feet, where they hit the ground and rolled.

  “I… I have to do something.”

  A slight wind had started up, adding a bit of white dust to the air and obscuring the two figures in the distance. Once again, Arik squinted, this time placing his hand over his brow, hoping it would help to some degree.

  It was time to act.

  Ignoring Meosa, Arik bolted toward the battle, where he skidded to a halt just as the combatant still standing turned to him. The dust settled, Arik now face to face with a humanoid creature with dark-purple skin, spiked hair and sharp teeth, fierce glowing eyes, his chest covered by an ornate armor over yellow, red, and white robes.

  “This is bad,” Meosa said, his voice cutting through to Arik’s psyche. “That’s no human, and it’s no yokai either. It’s called a yasha, a type of demonic kami. I told you we should not have come here!”

  A demonic kami? Arik placed his hand on his sword, his throat constricting. A wheel of fire took shape behind the demonic kami’s back, his spiked hair now with a golden glow to it, the being unlike anything Arik had ever seen before.

  Arik withdrew his sword, and prepared his stance, even though his arms were a bit shaky. “You’re going to help me with this one, right?”

  “You should have listened to me, you really should have listened to me,” Meosa scolded him. “Yes, fine, I will help you. Of course I will. What else do I have to do, right? Ugh. Just fight him as normal, and do not be alarmed in what I do next, my boy. Trust yourself, and trust me. And make sure you don’t let him puncture my waterskin!”

  “Got it.” Arik dropped his bag to the ground and turned so the waterskin was facing away from the demonic kami.

  The entity known as a yasha approached, his stance loose, a wicked grin on his face. Arik tried to match his posture as best he could, recalling the lesson that Combat Master Nankai had drilled into him, and how important it was to seem bigger than one’s opponent, more confident.

  With this in mind Arik relaxed his expression and lowered his shoulders, both hands on the grip of his blade, steady breaths doing little to calm his nerves. He dipped his head to some degree, allowing the shadow of his hood to obscure his face as he noticed something come over him.

  The sound of rushing water meeting his ears.

  Arik looked down at his arms to see that they were encased in an aqueous armor, his movements feeling as if he were wading through a body of water.

  Suddenly the aggressor, Arik kicked up his pace and rushed toward the demonic kami, his first swipe amplified by a wave of water which struck his opponent in the chest, causing the circle of flame on his back to sizzle. A sneer on his mangled face, the demonic kami slashed his blade forward as well, an arc of fire following its tip, which Arik somehow managed to block, more sizzling all around him.

  “Don’t resist, disciple!” Meosa said. “Just let me take complete control.”

  Arik loosened up even further, and found in doing so that he was now moving faster than he had ever moved in his life. His next strike landed, the demonic kami spinning, wincing as Arik landed his blow.

  He tried to respond with fire, but Arik was much faster, his water-fueled blade cutting his opponent’s weapon away, his blade going right through the yasha’s arm, black blood spritzing to the hard white soil.

  The fighting style Meosa exhibited was completely unorthodox, unlike anyt
hing Arik had experienced before. There was no rhyme or reason to it, no agreed-upon method. It was simply a fighting style meant to win, and it was then that he understood one of Combat Master Nankai’s final lessons called Contesting Height. Contesting Height was all about infiltrating an enemy space without shrinking one’s body in the slightest, completely overpowering the enemy even if it meant putting one’s own skin at risk.

  This was the difference between the way Meosa fought when taking over Arik’s body, and the way he had been taught. Whereas Arik focused on stances and keeping grounded, Meosa sought to truly overwhelm his opponent, creating a synergy between them as their powers worked together.

  The fighting was a blur in the end, but the demonic kami known as a yasha was now dead, his head and arm severed, his sword now extinguished, the sand around his fallen body melted to some degree.

  One moment they were facing off, and the next the yasha had been decapitated by Meosa using Arik’s body as his vessel.

  “I must say,” Meosa told him as he began to relinquish control over his body, “that felt bloody marvelous. It has been—well, you know—a long time since I’ve been able to fight in that way, in control of an actual body. I was amazing!”

  “That was…” Arik exhaled audibly. He looked down at his arm, at the sleeve he had cut earlier to remove the scent of blood. He was back in control, and as soon as he realized this, he turned to the other combatant, the one that the demonic kami had been fighting before Arik and Meosa arrived on the scene.

  He took a step toward the person as the dust picked up, Arik suddenly feeling weak, his knees shaking.

  “You’re going to need to take it easy,” Meosa told him. “To do what I just did I had to severely deplete your natural reserves of Revivaura. It was the only way to truly control your movements. I could go into more detail if you’d like, but just be lucky that you are training the way that you are trained; I can’t do that as fluidly with someone from one of the other schools, someone who has solely studied Chimaura or Thunderaura.”

  “Right, the other schools…” Arik said as he felt a headache coming on, still shocked at what had just happened. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand on his temple. Yet he couldn’t deny the feeling inside him, Arik’s duty to see to the person that had been attacked by the yasha.

  Perhaps they were still alive.

  Arik approached the figure, only then realizing as the dust settled that it was a woman.

  “Be careful,” Meosa warned him. “Only someone crazy would try to cross the desert alone, without the safety of a caravan.”

  “That is exactly what you told me to do…”

  “Yes, and you have me to guide you. Who is guiding her? Why would she be out here all alone? Are you sure about this, disciple?”

  Arik reached his hand out toward the woman to turn her toward him. “As sure as I’m going to be.”

  ****

  The woman’s mask startled Arik, the disciple not at all anticipating that her face would be covered with the visage of a kitsune, fox-like features and a longer snout, the mask white with red accents along the eyes, and only covering the top portion of her face.

  “Ummm…” Arik observed her body for a moment, noticing that the demonic kami hadn’t actually drawn blood. Still, the woman had been tossed at least twenty feet during the fight, which meant that there was potential for an internal injury.

  Even though he was feeling taxed himself after Meosa had used some of his power to combat the yasha, Arik still had enough power left to do some good. He closed his eyes and lowered his hand toward the woman, where he began sensing for wounds. As he did so, he noticed her chi had taken shape on the inside of his eyelids, Arik scanning her aura for kinks. He didn’t find any large enough to indicate an internal injury, which told him that she had simply been knocked out.

  With this in mind, he cycled a bit of her chi into him, absorbing what little injuries she sustained.

  She came awake in a flurry, and as she did, the woman quickly withdrew a dagger affixed to her boot and shoved Arik on his back, the blade suddenly pressed against his throat, the female wild-eyed beneath her kitsune mask.

  Arik didn’t have a chance to reply. The woman was shot off of his body and landed on her back with an umph, the wind clearly knocked out of her.

  “Withdraw your sword,” Meosa told Arik quietly, “do not alert her to my presence; she’ll hopefully think you kicked her. We haven’t really been over this, but you seem to have picked up on it. Regardless, do not alert others to my presence unless I tell you otherwise. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Arik said as he went for his weapon.

  “Talking to yourself is a way to draw attention. Answer me in more subtle ways when we are in a situation like this,” Meosa told him quickly.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Better. Prepare yourself.”

  Arik kept his sword at the ready as he took a step closer to the woman. She too had a sword, but it had been knocked out of her hand earlier, the woman miraculously hanging onto her dagger through Meosa’s sudden attack.

  She slipped to her feet, her movements unlike anything Arik had seen in an opponent before, a feline aspect to it. She crouched, her dagger upside down and gripped tightly in her left hand, the woman ignoring strands of her dark-brown hair whipping against her mask as a wind picked up and settled.

  “You were fighting with a demonic kami known as a…”

  “Yasha,” Meosa whispered to Arik.

  “…Known as a yasha. I was walking nearby and came to your aid. Look.” Not taking his eyes off his potential opponent, Arik tilted his chin toward the dead kami, whose head was several feet away, a halo of black blood surrounding its body.

  Arik couldn’t quite make out the woman’s facial expression because of the mask, but he could tell that she was now second-guessing attacking him based on what she assumed had been his successful kill.

  “Why are you out here?” he asked once she didn’t respond. “Did you come from Mogra?”

  “She seems feral,” Meosa commented. “It may be best if we continue on our way. If she tries to sneak up on you or anything, I will make sure to drown her.”

  “You can do that?” he asked under his breath.

  “There is a lot that I can do that you have yet to consider, my boy. Drowning someone even though there isn’t an ample amount of water nearby is one of my specialties. I suppose I could have tried it on the yasha back there, but I was feeling like stretching my limbs for once, or your limbs, I should say. It has been so long since I was in a proper fight. We have to do that again sometime.”

  “I’m going to put my sword away,” Arik said cautiously.

  “She’s definitely thinking that you’re talking to yourself by now. Most definitely.”

  “I’m going to put my sword away,” Arik told the woman in a steady voice. “I don’t want to fight you.”

  She remained crouched as Arik sheathed his blade, much to Meosa’s chagrin.

  “Well, I guess if she does try anything, I will just handle her myself. But you really shouldn’t be putting your weapon away around someone like that!”

  Arik showed the woman his hands. “I mean no harm. Can you… talk?”

  The woman stood, quickly enough that it raised the hairs on the back of Arik’s neck as he assumed she would spring at him. Instead, she relaxed her dagger, although she continued to keep it at her side.

  “Are you thirsty?” Arik asked. As far as he could tell, the kitsune-masked woman didn’t have a bag or anything to help her get across the desert.

  Rather than reply she turned in the direction of the dead yasha.

  Once she reached the fallen body, she began cutting strips of his clothing, which she bundled up and slipped into a hidden opening at the back of the light robes she was wearing.

  “You know…” Meosa started to say. “No, forget it. We shouldn’t assume.”

  “Assume what?” Arik asked.

  “Let’s just see what she
does.”

  The woman dropped before the body again and sent her dagger back into its sheath on her boot. She then went about removing the armor that had covered the yasha’s torso. It was unlike any armor Arik had ever seen before, light enough that it would actually fit under robes, a subtle glimmer to it.

  The woman approached Arik, and it took everything he had not to tense up. She dropped the armor at his feet and took a step back, pointing at him.

  Meosa’s voice again. “Yes, maybe that is something you could use.”

  “The armor?”

  “She’s clearly offering it to you. Take it, disciple. Let’s be done with her. It’s close to sunset. I don’t know what she is or why she’s here, but I have my suspicions, and perhaps it is best if we move on.”

  Arik retrieved the armor and tucked it under his free arm. He looked back up at the mysterious female and shrugged.

  “I am heading to Mogra. So… I guess that is…”

  “Turn to your left,” Meosa said.

  “This way,” Arik said as he followed the aqueous kami’s directions.

  The woman grunted, and as he looked back to her she motioned for Arik to follow her.

  “Why must we find ourselves in these situations?” Meosa lamented. “If we had just minded our own business… not to mention the fact that the blood we’ve shed back there will attract gaki.”

  “Where do you want to take me?” Arik asked carefully.

  The masked woman pointed toward a cliff about a mile away. It wasn’t exactly in the direction that they would be heading, but it wasn’t far off.

  “Shelter?” he asked, trying to interpret her offer.

  The woman looked up at the sky and nodded.

  “And it’s just you?”