by TJ Reynolds
It took a few minutes to recover from the attack.
Kai used Restoring Tide to heal a portion of Ban’s many wounds, and then he used his glaive as best he could to cut off one of the elekine’s rear legs.
Ban boasted a powerful appetite now, but it would do them more good if they could bring some of this bounty with them.
When they’d retrieved their packs, saddled Ban up, and strapped on their morbid trophy, the sun had drifted behind the mountains.
We’ve an hour or so, Ban. Then it’ll be full dark. Will your wounds prevent you from running?
The houndzard snorted, sending a dollop of phlegm hurtling in the air. Of course not. I’m as fit as ever. Then, more reluctantly, the Earth Core apologized. Please excuse me, Kai. I’m not used to a body so… excessive. I hope you didn’t notice what just came from my nose.
Kai leaned forward in the saddle and patted his friend’s back. Not at all, Ban. Not at all.
Having come so close to the mountains when pursuing the elekine, they had but to turn north again and continue their journey.
For the first time since leaving the dungeon, Kai yearned for a good night’s sleep. No swamp mud, no constant damp, and no rotten stench would bother their rest.
He searched for a place to camp out, anything with some overhead cover, when another canyon came into view.
It was narrow, perhaps less than a mile across at its mouth. The canyon cut up directly into the Zargan Mountains, its slope rising gently until it ended against a cliff face far away.
Even in the low light, Kai could make out the carved marker that Royar had mentioned. A pillar of stone rose up from the stone at the edge of the canyon’s mouth. Though the etching was faded and pocked with age, the crest of the Sunken Keep remained.
Three wavering stripes wove together to form a circle. They represented the three streams that fed the keep. In the center of the circle stood the image of a simple tower.
It made for a simple crest but one that took a lasting place in the mind.
Here we are, Ban. I don’t think we can travel far enough to see it this evening, but this canyon leads to the Sunken Keep.
The champion craned his head to one side, gazing at the sigil on the column. Well! Isn’t that something, Kai? I dare say it is a fetching design. I can’t wait to see the real thing in the light of day!
Ban turned into the canyon and they ran up the slope in search of a place to camp.
At last, they found an outcropping of stone jutting out from a cliff to their side. It wasn’t much, but should rain happen upon them, they’d be happy they found it.
In part due to the price Ban had paid during their brief fight, Kai took the first watch. Kai stood guard a dozen paces away as his Earth Core slumbered in the borrowed body of a dungeon champion.
Kai was tired, and he wanted to sit on his backside and count the stars till his shift was over. There was work to be done, however.
He planned out his night’s training. Beginning with the five forms, Kai would make a thorough study of the martial stances Rhona had taught him. Not only would he repeat the movements individually, but if he could manage it, Kai planned to complete the circuit as many times as he could manage.
Afterward, Kai knew he could spend the rest of his night struggling to master Crystal Mind.
Who knows, maybe I might find it enjoyable without having a time restraint, he hoped.
Sitting around on his backside didn’t appeal to Kai’s ambition. He burned to absorb as much ether as he could, ascend again and again. The first two major ascensions he’d gone through had only confirmed his greatest desire in life: he wanted to become as powerful as this world would allow.
His ambitious dreaming cut off as Ban’s champion snorted, sending a handful of pebbles scattering.
Quite the pair we make, he mused.
Considering his company forced Kai’s thoughts back to Rhona. He’d tried to keep her out of his mind as long as he could. He had no clue where she was, who she was with, or if she could still be considered free.
He had to find out though.
Despite what his feelings told him, the woman hadn’t abandoned their party. She’d done what she felt was necessary.
As Ban slept, Kai scouted around their camp until he was satisfied they were alone. Then he delayed the rigors of his training for the sake of a single important task standing in his way.
He took a risk, and activated his newest spell.
Kai’s body thrummed with power as he activated Soul Projection.
His stores of AE had been refilled completely, and the young dragon was even beginning to grow accustomed to the sensation of using magic.
None of his previous experiences, however, could have prepared him for the pain and astounding sense of unease that overtook him as his soul ripped free of his body.
He only hoped his cry of agony hadn’t disturbed Ban’s sleep.
7
An Elemental Mind
Rhona
The meandering route to the rangers’ command post had been so convoluted that Rhona had given up on trying to visualize their progress long ago.
A gentle decline had taken them down to a stream they crossed shortly after she’d been blindfolded. Then Royar had muttered something to his woman, the babble of the water just loud enough to cover his words. She’d responded with an inpatient grunt.
Then a half dozen twists and turns in a forest, the branches above their heads noisy with birds.
Finally, when Rhona felt she still might be able to find her way back, Royar turned her horse about a half dozen times before their path led up into the mountains. His efforts weren’t necessary. The path itself had been so back and forth that even her navigation instructor Jacks would have been lost.
Rhona felt Honor struggle beneath her, the muscles of his legs juddering as he crept over a narrow pass.
A gust of wind buffeted her clothes, and she focused on relaxing. There was little point in taking her captive just to let her tumble off the side of a mountain, so Rhona trusted Royar’s common sense.
Soon after, the variegated sounds of a military camp came to her ears.
She passed a row of archers, their strings twanging in sync. The arrows struck their targets solidly, and Rhona had to admit she was impressed. The volley had been nearly perfect.
The distant ping of a smith’s hammer rang out, accentuating the snatches of conversation she picked up along the way.
At last, Royar dismounted, his heavier breathing giving him away when he approached.
“Alright. We’ve arrived, little bird.” He removed her blindfold and waited for her eyes to adjust. When she could look at his face without squinting, the man smiled. “Good! We’ve got a lovely cell for you to wait in the meantime. Down you go.”
He helped her dismount, her bound hands making the practiced motion awkward.
Rhona stole careful glances as Royar led her once more.
These Hintari, they weren’t the uncouth savages she’d been told they were. She’d doubted most of the rumors that passed through the ranks of the Brintoshi soldiers, most outlandish and unlikely.
But seeing their pristine and organized camp dashed any remaining myths to dust.
Tents were arranged in precise rows. A wide thoroughfare ran through the center of the command post, allowing for goods to come and go easily. And the soldiers around her, some rangers and some infantry, all glared at her with hard eyes, their uniforms and armor immaculate.
These were real soldiers, as grizzle-tough as any Brintoshi unit. In fact, Rhona had a hunch that this unit might be Hintar’s version of the Vermillion Guard.
Why else would they be positioned so close to the border? This is the tip of their spear, she mused, idly counting the number of soldiers she passed.
By the time they made it to her cell, she’d reached thirty-two. Given the size of the overall camp, Rhona would have made a modest guess of two or three hundred, most likely more.
H
er hopes rose in her chest. If I can rouse this lot to face the Vermillion Guard, the war may very well end before it starts.
Then a stab of pragmatism followed. Or, more like they’ll run away and claim the Hintari forces fell upon them during a routine patrol. Aye. If I know my countrymen, that’ll be their recourse.
“Listen. You’re a guest here as well as a prisoner,” Royar told her as he turned the lock to her cage. “Seems more like one than the other right about now, I know. I’ll send for food though, and make sure that beautiful horse of yours is groomed and fed as well. Should you try to escape or make trouble, though, then you’ll find how quickly our kindness will dry up.”
The ranger stared at her through the iron bars, his eyes flicking across her face as if she held some answer there for him.
Then he bounced his eyebrows and excused himself. “See you soon enough, Rhona Bloodspear!” he called out as he left.
“Bloodspar, damn you,” Rhona growled.
Despite having succeeded in her plans, she didn’t find it pleasant at all to have her hands bound and be locked away like a common thief.
The cell was three feet wide and just as deep, and she had room enough only to sit.
Rhona spent a few minutes gathering what information she could, but the five iron cages had been placed at the edge of camp. She could only make out a farrier’s stand, where a man worked at cleaning the hooves of a horse, and a supply tent.
A horse came round with a wagon in tow and delivered some goods to the round clerk who manned the tent. He scrambled up from his chair and jotted a few notes on a parchment before sending the horseman off again.
When he caught Rhona’s sidelong glance, he scowled at her and raised a fist.
Rather than push the supply sergeant further, she closed her eyes.
Given only the sanctuary of her own mind, Rhona fell to training herself on the new skill she’d learned back in Imogen’s dungeon.
Surprisingly, it was one of the skill books brought from Ban’s dungeon that she found useful. None of those produced by Imogen were nearly as practical, not for a monk at least.
Kai had given it to her on their first night after fleeing Ban’s dungeon. In her mind, she could read the title as if it were right in front of her. War with the Fist: A Discussion of the Effectiveness and Utility of the Brintoshi Soldier Monk.
It was the frank nature of the title that struck her as so profound. Once upon a time, her chosen class had been the norm.
Now, desperation guided her efforts to scrape together what fragments of knowledge remained.
Most of the book covered such topics as how to field a platoon of monk soldiers, how best to make use of various specialties, and a brief history of the class. Rhona also discovered three new skills buried inside.
The first she’d already known.
Crystal Mind had been a useful trick that Palben had shown her as well as a comforting guide that would allow her Emerald ascension to go as smooth as possible.
Iron Mind and Gold Mind, however, were entirely new.
As with any skill book, Rhona had mastered the basics of all three techniques as soon as she’d finished. Yet only Crystal Mind came easily and that because she’d practiced with it so long before.
Breathing deeply, Rhona fell into Iron Mind, forming the image of immutable iron protecting her core like a perfectly symmetrical suit of armor. Once inside, she noted how distant and mute the world around her became.
The sounds of the camp still came to her ears, but somehow the people themselves felt far removed.
Within the technique, Rhona had to admit, she felt safer than ever.
A man belly laughing nearby broke her concentration. The cold, hard walls that protected her mind fell away into pieces, and she struggled for another few minutes to reassemble it.
When she’d worked with her second mental technique for another ten minutes, Rhona switched to the ever-elusive Gold Mind.
Whereas Crystal Mind could be seen as a five-sided pillar, and Iron Mind as a dome or sphere, Gold Mind’s structure was so complex she could only grasp how to master it. She sensed five sides, but rather than sheer and even panes of crystal, each side felt like its own distinct shape.
Try as she might, Rhona could neither picture the entirety of the mental construct, nor could she pull the pieces together to form a singularity.
And that’s what she needed to do. She intuitively knew how she must complete the exercise, but lacked the finesse and mental discipline to do so.
Reaching into her memory, she read again the section from the skill book most relevant.
“Gold Mind is the third and most challenging stage of basic mental fortification. Each aspect has its own purpose. Crystal to clear the mind, Iron to protect, but Gold’s purpose is more convoluted and evades simple summarization.
With Gold Mind active, a monk becomes capable of incredible feats of cognition.
Most refute the claims made by some masters, insisting they can see the future and the past within the five folded wings of Gold Mind. Yet none can deny the many applications that have been readily proven.
Some monks gain speed or strength on the battlefield, moving their bodies with greater precision due to the mental discipline of Gold Mind. Others have performed an accomplishment only Earth Cores could previously boast of: absorbing ambient ether with force of will alone.
Either way, a single word most often describes the effects and goals of those practicing the skill.
Instead of clarity or protection, Gold Mind offers transcendence.”
Time and again, Rhona fumbled with the cumbersome framework of the mental discipline. Each of the five sections weighed on her, resisting the desires of her mind.
She gave up an hour later, a fine sheen of sweat having formed on her brow as a result of her thwarted efforts.
Had Rhona been writing a song of her adventures this day, she’d have said she spent seven more hours standing on one foot, focusing the flow of her core. In reality, she passed her time in less honorable ways.
Rhona worried about Honor and hoped he was being treated well. Kai and Ban too, tugged at the edges of her mind. She made more than a few foul rhymes about supply sergeants and their flat arses.
And of course, she dozed off.
A rap of tin on iron woke her.
She moved to rub her face, but her arms refused to move. You’re bound, fool! Rhona chided herself before looking up into the golden face of a boy.
His black eyes examined her with unabashed curiosity. “You’re the turn cloak? I thought you’d have been… I don’t know, meaner-looking.”
“I’m mean enough, boy. What do you want?”
“Food,” he replied with a start. “I mean, I have your food. And I’m meant to unfasten your bonds. Can you turn round and push your hands through the cage?”
Rhona took a minute to stand, the blood rushing down to her legs and a thousand tiny swords jabbed along her skin. Then she turned and pushed her hands through.
As the boy unfastened the knot, she thought how easy it would be to kill the little brat and search his pockets for a key. This is my first test then. If I make a move, they’ll know my intentions.
It was cold to send someone so young on a mission like this, but the lad had most likely already seen death.
In a war camp, few could remain innocent for long.
“Thank you,” Rhona said as she stretched her arms out. Pain throbbed in her shoulders and wrists, but it soon passed.
The boy handed her a bowl of soup and smiled. “You’re welcome. You know, I always heard Brintoshi women were flat-faced sows. You’re kinda pretty.”
“And I always heard Hintari boys were diseased and shrunken.”
Her remark forced a laugh from him, and rather than leave, he sat down and watched her. She considered chasing him off with a few sharp words, but he was kind enough if a bit nosy.
She’d been no better at his age.
Leaving the boy to his
own imagination, Rhona saw to her soup.
When she prodded at the meal, she discovered it was more of a stew, and a plume of rich spices tickled her nose. She tried it and soon discovered first-hand the fiery nature of Hintari curry.
She finished half before raising the white flag. Her face was flushed, and sweat pushed out of the bridge of her nose and upper lip.
“Ha! It’s true! The Brintoshi can’t eat proper food. What do you eat? Will you tell me?”
Rhona considered humoring the boy when a grim-faced man approached. He jerked his head to one side, and the boy scurried off.
Without speaking a word, the man gestured for her to stand, hand him the remains of her meal, and turn round and present her hands to him. He bound her even more efficiently than Royar had before opening her cage.
Then, for the second time that day, Rhona was led through the center of a Hintari war camp.
No matter how hard she tried, the sting of shame prodded her with every step, insisting she was nothing more than a turn cloak.
8
Bound by the Core
Rhona
This time, they bee lined it straight to a row of tall tents.
A few Hintari threw her steely-eyed glances. Some even muttered promised curses under her breath. Never in her life was Rhona more aware that her red hair and pale skin marked her as a daughter of Brintosh.
Despite it all, Rhona grinned.
At last, she would speak to the commander.
Her sense of elation faded when she entered the tent to find herself surrounded by seasoned men.
Royar was the youngest among them, and he was nearing the middle of his years. The female ranger stood by his side.
A single stool sat in the middle of the assembly.
Rhona made no struggles but took her seat amid a throng of people she’d so recently called enemies.
A man that was neither the tallest nor the oldest among the officers spoke first. “Rhona Bloodspar. That’s your name?”
