Way of the Immortals

by Harmon Cooper

  A man and woman peeked out and saw me lumbering toward the mountains with a sword and a dagger. They quickly shut the door of the shack, a bolt locking it in place.

  I circled around the hill before me, looking for a terraced section, anything I could use to get to a higher level as I ignored the pain surging through me, everything a dark, hazel blur.

  I gave up searching for an easy way up and started to climb, my hands on the biggest rocks I could find.

  Reminding myself to focus, to ignore the feeling of the lotus, I kept my gaze on the rock ahead.

  One rock at a time.

  This seemed to help, focusing on the small actions, baby steps, and I eventually made it to the ledge.

  I pulled myself to the top of the ledge and looked back at Madame Mabel’s plantation, fires dotting the landscape, the city of Nagchu beyond that.

  I let out just about the biggest, most satisfying breath I’d every exhaled. I was way too close to the city, and once they started patrols, they would find me here.

  So after about a ten-minute rest, I started up again, making my way up along the mountainside pass, the terrain rocky, the temperature dropping.

  I was no longer running but I was moving quickly, trying to stay as aware of my surroundings as I possibly could, keeping my focus on the horizon.

  Thirty minutes passed like this, then an hour, just a few disturbances in the trees near me catching my attention.

  “Keep moving,” I told myself. “You have to keep moving.”

  Eventually, I saw someone in the distance, a woman, and I was just about to call out to her when a thought came to me: Everyone else I’ve met so far in the Kingdom of Lhasa has tried to attack me. Why would the woman at the end of this path be any different?

  But she definitely saw me, and rather than run off into the wooded area, or turn back, I simply drew my blade.

  It was heavy, and as she approached me I tightened my grip on it.

  I had to appear confident; I had to appear like I knew what I was doing.

  “Not another step,” I told her, trying to hold my sword with one hand and failing. It was too large for that, so I placed both hands on the hilt, holding it almost like one would hold a bat.

  “You seem lost,” the woman told me, a peculiar melody to her voice.

  She was unlike any woman I’d seen thus far in this world, with flowing white hair, eyes filled with light, elven ears, and gray robes that hung well past her hands, the ends dragging in the dirt.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am your dakini,” she said.

  “What’s that even mean?”

  “You’re an outsider, are you not?”

  “From Massachusetts, heard of it?”

  The woman nodded. “Nick Barnette from Massachusetts. A portal brought you here, correct?”

  I gasped. “How did you know that?”

  “Your name is Nick Barnette, you are from another world, and if you fulfill your destiny here, you will help save this world, the Middle Plane.”

  I gave her a funny look. “It’s the lotus,” I finally said, looking down at my hands, my own bloodied arm. “I knew it could cause hallucinations, and walking so quickly only made it flow quicker through my bloodstream. ”

  “I’m not a hallucination; I’m here to watch over you tonight, to guide you further into the mountains, closer to your destiny, to heal you.”

  I shook my head. “Everyone that I’ve met here has tried to take advantage of me in some way, all aside from…”

  “Altan, a good man, perhaps a future teacher.”

  “Are you talking about the Way of the Immortals?”

  The mysterious woman nodded. “As I said, he’s a good man.”

  “I don’t know if any path like that is really cut out for me, to be honest with you.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I… Well, good point. I’m just trying to find my friends,” I told the woman, ignoring the stinging pain in my arm where the dog had bitten me. “Do you know about my friends?”

  She stared at me long and hard, and at that moment I felt as if she had pried open my soul, took a look and zipped it up.

  “I do know about your friends.”

  “Are they alive?”

  She nodded.

  “All of them?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Where are they?”

  “That detail isn’t quite clear to me, or if it were, it isn’t something that I would easily be able to share with you.”

  I gave her a funny look. “So you’re telling that you know, but you can’t tell me?”

  “There are three planes of existence in this world, and you are in the Middle Plane. I’m from Overworld, the plane above this one, where the pious go, the ones who have sacrificed everything to help others.”

  “An Overworld.” I considered this for a moment, trying to steady my blurred gaze on her. “Do you mean heaven?”

  “I suppose you could consider it that, but you could consider all three of the planes a form of heaven depending on who you speak to.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked her after a moment’s pause.

  “Dema.”

  “And what’s a dakini? You said you were my dakini.”

  “Think of me as a guardian angel.”

  “A guardian angel?” I smirked at her. No way. “Where is this world? Why was there a portal that took me here?” I asked as I took a step closer to the woman.

  “You’re ready to continue your journey?”

  “Sure, we can walk for a little while.”

  “I would like that,” Dema said. “But then you will need to rest, so I can heal your arm.”

  “I can’t complain there,” I told her, sheathing my blade. I kept my dagger in my hand, hoping that I wouldn’t have to use it in some way against the woman.

  We started along the pass, the woman either floating or walking lightly; there was no way to tell with the robes that she wore.

  “To answer your question: I’ve already told you the world you’re in is the Middle Plane. It consists of several independent kingdoms, most of which, like the Kingdom of Lhasa, are somehow at war with one another. ”

  “And how did I get here? How is it possible that a portal opened up and I somehow appeared here?”

  “It’s possible through some of the darkest magic this world has ever seen, which may turn out beneficial to those that hope for good to conquer evil.”

  She stopped.

  “Yes?”

  “May I touch you?”

  “Yes,” I said, still holding on to my dagger.

  Dema placed her hand on my cheek, just as the masked woman had at the wedding party.

  “It was you?” I asked, taking a step back. “Back at the party, it was you…”

  “It was.”

  “You slapped me.”

  “I had to encourage you to leave,” she said, a bit of wind moving through her white hair.

  “What made you think slapping me would make me try to leave?”

  “I don’t see reality and time the same way that you do,” she explained. “You have experienced the Power a few times now, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “And you are aware of what it’s like when time slows down, and you can move around an object without that object moving.”

  “Correct.”

  “Now imagine that from the view of someone watching it all take place, someone up there,” Dema said, nodding up at the sky. “Imagine it as a live-action chess match, and you were able to move the pieces, to adjust their trajectories. That’s what it’s like to be me…”

  “I can sort of understand what you’re saying,” I finally told her.

  “Good,” she said, staring deeply into my eyes. “Come, we need to move further inland, away from Nagchu. There is a monastery that I would like you to visit. I believe you will find it tomorrow.”

  “Sure, a monastery,” I said, totally intoxicated by her. Dema’s voice was a w
hisper swirling around my head. It called me in, taking my breath away for a moment.

  I brought my hand to my throat, afraid that she was choking me.

  Suddenly, I was able to breathe again as if nothing had happened, only I no longer wanted to speak.

  I just wanted to walk with Dema.

  I just wanted to bask in her presence.

  Chapter Eleven: Roger

  Something wet pressed against my face.

  Blinking my eyes open, I saw the snout of a large mountain bear, the creature sniffing me, its tongue pressing against my forehead.

  I yelped, slipping away from the beast and startling it.

  It took it a moment to realize that I was awake, but once it saw me roll to my right, the bear dropped its weight back onto its haunches, roaring.

  My hand on the hilt of my sword, I pulled out my blade, only to have it swiped away by the bear.

  I watched in slow-motion horror as my sword went over the cliffside.

  The bear lunged for me, and I moved just in time, the beast slipping over the edge of the cliff.

  “Shit…” I whispered, taking a deep breath in as I tried to calm my nerves.

  I looked over the side of the cliff to see the bear on a lower level now, lying on its side, breathing heavily as it opened and shut its jaw.

  “Shit…” I whispered again.

  Dema, my self-proclaimed guardian angel, was nowhere to be found, but my arm was healed up.

  So at least that had happened.

  Still, talk about a terrible time to leave me.

  Once I was able, I continued along the pass, putting my dagger in the sheath that was reserved for my sword. It wasn’t the best fit, but at least it gave me a weapon, something to pull out the next time I encountered imminent death, hopefully not another bear.

  It was then that I noticed something in the distance, a glimmer on a hillside calling out to me.

  The urge to go there swelled in my chest; I gave in to that urge, shaking my head as I walked along the mountain pass, still not able to comprehend what had just happened.

  Every time I shut my eyes I saw the bear leaning over me, licking my face, its sharp canines, its wet snout.

  It was a wonder that I had survived.

  I continued as quietly as I could, noticing that there was ice on the ground up here, frost on some of the rocks, lots of moss too. The moss looked soft enough to lie down on, and had I not recently been attacked by a bear, I may have taken refuge, just a little bit longer.

  But no, I wanted to get out of the area, afraid of what else might come after me.

  I kept at it, wishing I had real hiking shoes and not the crappy leather sandals given to me at Madame Mabel’s plantation. My toes were cold, and the rocks were sharp enough that I could feel them through the soles of my feet.

  Shitty, but it was better than being mauled to death.

  I continued my journey, walking for several more hours, keeping my gaze on that glimmer of gold in the foothills of a majestic mountain.

  I came across an abandoned campfire, bones from a thoroughly cooked animal sticking out of the ash. I pulled a few of the bones out, noticing that there was still a little meat on them. I ate the meat after wiping the bones off, saving the bread and carrots I’d stolen for later.

  It would do for now.

  After searching for more food and coming up empty-handed, I climbed over a large tree that had fallen in the path. I wished at that moment that I’d asked Dema more questions, recalling that she claimed to be from a different realm, one above this one.

  I started to question if it had even happened, but then I looked at my arm, seeing that it was healed.

  She was real. I was certain of it.

  Another hour.

  I decided to walk a little longer and then find a place to sit, to possibly put my legs up a tree, reverse the flow of blood.

  A cold breeze whipped past, chilling me to the bone. The walking had made me sweaty, but my own sweat was making my body colder when the wind picked up.

  “Just one more hour,” I told myself, trying not to worry about it.

  A peculiar bird landed on a branch in front of me. It was definitely a tropical bird, turquoise with yellow tail feathers and a colorful beak. It seemed out of place here in the mountains, and I was not in the least bit surprised when it turned its head to me and started speaking.

  “You need help, traveler?”

  I had to grin.

  Of course, the birds speak here.

  “I could definitely use some help.”

  “Where is it you intend to go?” the bird asked, hopping a little further down the branch it was perched on.

  “I’m trying to go there,” I said, pointing toward the distant glowing sparkle.

  “To the monastery?” the bird asked.

  I remembered what Dema had said. “Sure, to the monastery. As long as nothing gets me along the way. About the only thing I have for protection is this little dagger.” I unsheathed the blade that I’d taken off the man at the plantation. There was nothing special about it, aside from the carved face of a snow lion on its hilt.

  “That’s a small dagger to you, but to my people that is a desirable weapon,” the colorful bird said.

  “You like this dagger?”

  “Who wouldn’t like a dagger like that?” he asked.

  “Tell you what,” I said, “the dagger is yours if you can get me to that monastery in one piece, and quickly too.”

  He cocked his head at me. “You would give me your only form of protection?”

  “It hasn’t been that helpful yet. Do you want a piece of bread?”

  “I suppose. I’m not the biggest fan of bread, but if it’s all you have…”

  “I have carrots too.”

  “Bread. Carrots give me the runs.”

  “Bread it is.” I reached in my pocket and tore off a piece, taking a bite myself. I held the bread up in the air and the bird landed in my palm, picking the bread from between my thumb and pointer finger. He swallowed it down, hopping around in my palm for a moment as I looked at him. He was about the size of a small parrot, much larger than a parakeet.

  “Are you certain you would like to trade your weapon?” he asked. “You may need it later.”

  “If you can get me to that monastery by nightfall, then it’s yours. I just want a place to rest, a place where I won’t wake up to find a bear standing over me.”

  The bird nodded its head. “I can imagine, the bears here are treacherous beasts. They’re daredevils too, climbing out on the branches to get to our eggs. Tell you what, traveler, I’ll help you reach the monastery, and once you give me the dagger, I’ll use it to kill a bear. So in a way, you get two things out of this deal.”

  “You’re going to kill a bear?” I asked as the bird flapped its wings, landing on my shoulder.

  “Sure am, and don’t continue along this path, take this one,” he said, whistling, pinching me with his talons in a way that told me to turn to the right.

  “But that goes down the mountain,” I started to say.

  “Are you interested in the shortcut or not?”

  “I am.”

  “Let me lead the way. You said to get you there by nightfall, so that’s my goal. I would really like that dagger.”

  “Okay,” I said, following the bird’s directions. “And what about my question, are you really going to use the dagger to kill a bear?”

  “If one tries to get to my future wife’s future eggs, yes; if they leave me alone, then no. I’m not a murderous bird, just a bird that murders if need be. The bears are dangerous here, as are the panthers, and a few of the smaller cats. Don’t get me started on the snow lions closer to the peaks of the mountains.”

  “You’re the strangest bird I’ve ever met,” I said, grinning at my own statement.

  “You’ve met other birds?”

  “No. Can’t say that I have.”

  “Do you have a name?” I asked the bird after I’d walke
d for a spell. He flew slightly ahead of me now, occasionally circling back around and hanging out just over my shoulder.

  “Not one that you would be able to pronounce. You?”

  “Nick. Can you pronounce Nick?”

  “Nick. Of course, I can pronounce ‘Nick.’ And by the sounds of it, you aren’t from around here, are you?”

  “Do the birds in Lhasa generally know the names of its citizens?”

  “When they are written everywhere, yes.”

  “You can read?” I asked him.

  “Seriously? Just because I’m a bird doesn’t mean I didn’t go to school. I’ll have you know that I went to one of the finest schools in Lhasa, and yes, before you smirk at me, it was a birds only school. I have no problem with admitting that. Why would I go to school for people like you anyway?”

  “Just asking, Bird,” I said, showing him my palms.

  “Would you like to be called by the name of your species, Human?”

  “No, Nick is better. What would you prefer I call you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, zipping up into the air and spiraling back down.

  He stopped before me, flapping his wings slowly enough to keep himself in the air, so we could look at each other eye to eye for a moment. “If I allowed you to name me, to give me a human name, would you give me a good one?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.”

  “Um…” I thought for a moment. “How about Roger?”

  “Roger, Roger,” the bird said, circling around me once more. “Why that name?”

  I shrugged. “You just look like a Roger to me. I don’t know. I can think of other names too; it was just the first thing that came into my head.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s a cartoon that I watched as a kid, and there’s a character named Roger or at least I think his name was Roger. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe he wasn’t Roger.”

  “I will accept the name.”

  “Good.”

  The feathers on the back of his head flattened. “Quick, get down,” he said, divebombing into the brush to our right. I followed Roger into the brush, the twigs scratching me and tearing at my clothing as I moved deeper into the bramble.

  “You have to be quiet,” he said.