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Fall of the Blue Spirit: 25

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Part XXV: Of the God of the Island

“The deployment of pontoon squads is as follows: a string of eight around the wider curve of the southern end of the island, no more than four hundred cubits separating each unit.  Two each on the eastern and western flanks of this elevation, one taking point below us.  Due to strong current at the foot of the promontory, and the rocks just below the surface, the point squad will have to use double anchors and take position an additional two hundred cubits in front of the island.  In case of heavy fog, you must fall back and take up your secondary position here on the western shore, as third in line.”

Yǎn-sui turned and surveyed the assembled score of squad leaders.  Most of them were young, fishermen or owners of boats who ferried trade up and down the river; these watched him closely, their chi piqued with the eagerness to fight despite the cool early morning misting rain hissing down from the sky.  Their inexperience in combat was obvious, but Yǎn-sui intended the battle to be short, so as to prevent too many from dying from their own recklessness.

He had tapped the best boatmen to man the pontoons, the rest taking up stations at various points on the island.  Lien was among the latter, and the only female in the group.  Several women, who wore white scarves in similar fashion to Lien’s, had also been placed among the defense squads, too few for Yǎn-sui’s taste.  It was not until Rinzen explained the concept of “patriarchal society” that Yǎn-sui understood why.

(Perhaps “understood” was too strong a term, but he at least persuaded Yǎn-sui to not start an argument then and there with Elder Yu and the Council.  “Nothing makes people less inclined to listen to you than when you say right out that you think their traditions are stupid,” Rinzen counseled, “Especially when they are.”)

“There will be two teams positioned near the mouth of the cove, on either side.  You are to prevent any enemy attempt to enter the cove, and should it become necessary to evacuate the island, you must…”

There was a sharp exclamation of protest, quickly stifled. Yǎn-sui narrowed his eyes at the man who had made it: Ning, one of the Council of Jiāng Hui and leader of a village near the mouth of the river.  He had been one of the most stubborn holdouts against Yǎn-sui’s plan, and it bewildered the demon that the idiot had volunteered and been elected by his people to fight for them.  “There is a problem?” he growled.

Jiān, standing beside him, touched his hand, the motion concealed by her sleeve.  It was rather unnecessary, seeing as she had bonded him never to harm a human, not even the obnoxiously stupid ones, but he found himself taking a deep breath and relaxing his stance.

Ning coughed, still obviously discomfited.  “I don’t suppose I have to remind you that I strongly disagreed with your plan when you and the lady priestess presented it before the Council,” he began, rather inauspiciously, “But I was persuaded to change my vote because I trust Elder Yu’s judgment; he said that you would be able to lead us and protect out people.  But now, you are saying you cannot guarantee even that, after we’ve abandoned our homes?”

Yǎn-sui felt a frustrated roar clawing to be loosed from his throat; Jiān’s hand gripped his ever-so-softly, as he took an unconscious step forward with the intent of throttling Ning for insubordination and stupidity.  “No battle strategy is ever foolproof, as I explained, and as Lady Jiān and Master Rinzen and Elder Yu have explained to your Council.  Many times,” Yǎn-sui replied evenly, although he had to raise his voice to be heard over the mounting tide of murmurs stirring up from the suddenly restless assembly.  Some of the squad leaders seemed inclined to listen to Ning’s argument, while others hesitated.  It irked him that the humans were so ill-disciplined that they allowed eleventh-hour doubts to shake their resolve.  “We cannot assume that our defenses are impenetrable, and neither should we condemn ourselves to annihilation.  If the perimeter falls, if they wipe out the defense squads, if the enemy penetrates the fortifications, then the boats by which you came to this island will provide the only means to escape a deathtrap, and the squads guarding the cove must fight a rearguard action to protect the survivors.”

“But…” Ning tried to interject.

“No,” Yǎn-sui cut him off with a snarl, “The time of truce ends at the next dawn.  If you still have doubts, you can leave this island and trust your own abilities to save your skin.  Cowards will only endanger the rest.”

Ning bridled, spots of scarlet staining his cheeks above his beard.  “I trusted the lives of my village to your champion, Lady Priestess,” he addressed Jiān stiffly, “Even though we have not been attacked ourselves, you told us that the demons will not confine their attacks to the highlands and Upriver.  We decided to help protect our brothers and sisters, and now your champion insults me directly!  I demand satisfaction!”

“Aw, shut yer trap, Ning!” another squad leader, a lanky, pockmarked Upriver fisherman by the name of Xun, snapped, “Stop pretending you did us a favor!  We coulda fought off the demons without you to screw things up with your…!”

“Don’t you dare insult my clan leader!”  This from a young trader, Khaing, whose fists were already limned with fitful tongues of yellow flame.  “I challenge you to Ag- !”

“Enough!”  The sharp tack! of wood driven against hard stone punctuated Elder Yu’s barked reprimand.    The suddenly silent assembly parted, the would-be combatants looking furtive and ashamed as the old man’s clouded eyes fixed on them.  Elder Yu shook his head disapprovingly, and approached Yǎn-sui and Jiān.  “Lady Priestess, Master Yǎn-sui, I apologize for the actions of my younger brothers.  They are not soldiers and are used to having their voices heard on every matter, even when the timing is unsuitable.”  Another scathing look directed at Xun and Ning made the former duck his head, pulling his battered sedge hat over his eyes, while the latter buried his hands inside his robe and looked out over the water.

‘That’s obvious,’ Yǎn-sui snorted.  

“I take no insult,” Jiān said graciously, moving in front of Yǎn-sui so that the elbow she nudged into his ribs went unnoticed, “Neither does Yǎn-sui.  We understand that everyone is concerned for the safety of their families and that they just want to understand how they can best protect everyone.”

Yǎn-sui noticed how Lien’s lips twisted with the effort not to laugh out loud as the rest of the group, apparently abashed by Jiān’s simple proclamation, practically fell over themselves to affirm their intention to do just that.  She returned his gaze and colored slightly.

“That is good,” Elder Yu agreed serenely.  He straightened and looked at Yǎn-sui.  “Now that we have the last of our issues on strategy straightened out, I have a matter of my own to discuss with Master Yǎn-sui.  Please stay, Lady Jiān, I wish to speak with you as well.”

The squad leaders dispersed, murmuring among themselves as they descended the promontory where Yǎn-sui had convened the war council.  The island sloped down steeply from this point, the northern extreme of the small patch of land lodged incongruously in the midst of Jiān’s river. Just under a half mile across at its widest point, the island resembled a turtle-duck swimming upstream; the promontory was the head, the bulk of the island forming the shell.  The south-western quarter of the island had been eaten away into a semi-circular recess by the flow of water, creating the cove where the boats had been dragged ashore or tied up to prevent them from drifting away in the current.

“I hope that we won’t have to worry about fog tomorrow,” Elder Yu mentioned, “I imagine it will only help the demons.”

“Even if the weather turns in their favor, the river won’t,” Jiān replied stoutly, “I will do all I can to use it to our advantage.”

“Yes, I have no doubt that you will, Lady Jiān,” said Elder Yu, smiling indulgently at her, “The demons will learn to fear the goddess they have enraged, and will not set foot on the water.  However…”

“You think the fortifications are our weak point,” Yǎn-sui deduced.

Elder Yu raised his eyebrows and thinned his lips, nodding.  “The squads on the river are the first line of defense, but that wind demon you spoke of can avoid them entirely and attack anyone taking shelter there,” he said, extending his cane toward the wooden walls still being raised.  Yǎn-sui had Rinzen direct the humans to raise an earthen berm abutting the promontory, using dirt and rocks dug from a perimeter trench to create a strong base for the thirty-foot logs that formed the main body of the walls.  Two posterns, one leading down to the cove and the other facing the promontory, would be the only means of entering or leaving the fortification once they were completed.

The roughly rectangular space within the walls was filled with makeshift shelters that had gone up over the last few days like the blossoming of fungus after a heavy rain; in all, approximately eight hundred humans had left their villages to come to the island.  More than half were capable of firebending, but Yǎn-sui, the Council, and Elder Yu set high standards for anyone who would be fighting outside the walls.  In effect, Yǎn-sui commanded an “army” of only two hundred and sixty firebenders, and these would be thinly distributed around the island either on the pontoons or around the perimeter of the fortification at points most vulnerable to direct attack from the river.

Yǎn-sui understood Elder Yu’s anxiety, although he was certain Anu would consider attacking humans beneath him.  Hau was far more dangerous.  Although he had proven sensitive to fire, Yǎn-sui was well aware that the fortifications would likely be for naught if the little berserker managed to get past the defenders.  “Lhamu and Rinzen will take charge of the skies; he’s selected Xing and two others to help him, I believe,” Yǎn-sui said, “Rinzen won’t allow A- the wind demon to control the air as he pleases.”  ‘At the very least, they will provide a delay and give me or Jiān time to deal with Hau.’

“I still think we should have archers on the walls,” Elder Yu added, continuing an argument worn thin over the last week.

Yǎn-sui ground his fangs.  “Archers on the walls will only antagonize the demons, and draw their attention to them,” he explained with strained patience, “It is better to have the defenders on the island to keep them occupied outside of the fortification.  It is a demon’s instinct to fight the enemy in front of him during pitched battle, to the point of blindness to his surroundings.”  That had been the whole point of the fortifications, after all; not necessarily to protect, but to hide the humans, a fact Yǎn-sui grudgingly shared at Jiān’s insistence.  The focus demons required to wield a granted power was something no human could understand, he thought with a touch of envy.  Benders, mere humans, could manipulate the elements with ease that he had acquired only after centuries of study and practice.  Watching the pontoon squads drill drove the painful point home: although nowhere near as flawless in form as gods nor strong as demons, insignificant humans acting in concert could attain a frightening level of power.  

Should a single human ever acquire the sheer brute force a demon could bring to bear, Yǎn-sui would consider the days of the gods numbered.

“But what if they change their focus on their own?” Elder Yu insisted stubbornly, “With archers, we have the chance to strike at them outside of the walls.”

“Elder Yu, did you not say you placed your trust in Yǎn-sui to defend our people?” Jiān interrupted, the softness of her voice veiling reprimand, “You have tested him against your terms and he has proven himself time and again, if I may repeat what you have told me.  He and I both, we will not fail you, please believe me.”

It was something akin to seeing the rainbow fires dance in the night sky over the ice wastes, Yǎn-sui thought: puzzling, a trifle frightening, but nevertheless beguiling, the way Jiān had to speak only a few gentle words to win submission from those around her.  Elder Yu’s lips twitched with the effort not to smile as he nodded.  “Fair enough, Lady Jiān; I suppose I can’t very well stand here contradicting Master Yǎn-sui after scolding those young men for doing the exact same thing.”

“Oh?  I thought you just wanted to break up their fight before it got out of hand,” Jiān replied innocently, “You know how much I depend on you for advice, Elder Yu.”

Yǎn-sui gave her a poke in the small of her back; even her charms could be laid on a little thickly.

Jiān kicked her heel back into his shin as she bowed to Elder Yu.  “If there is any matter I can assist you in before this evening, please tell me right away,” she said in all seriousness.

“I think our people will be prepared to wait out the night, after all you’ve done for them,” the old man replied, “You are a priestess – it is only fitting for you to commune with the Spirits who protect us before the battle.  Now then, if you will excuse me…”

“‘Commune with the Spirits’ makes it sound like we actually have a working relationship,” Yǎn-sui grumbled after Elder Yu was well out of earshot, “Oh would have us abandon our station on the night before battle just to tell us things she could easily spit out at any time.  Typical hard-assed Earth Spirit.”

Jiān wrinkled her forehead and pulled on a lock of hair.  “I’m sure she has her reasons,” she said hesitantly.  It was a weak excuse and they both knew it.  “I think Rinzen’s trying to get our attention,” she hurried to say, pointing down in the direction of the cove.

Yǎn-sui followed her finger and spied Rinzen as he mounted the head of the steep trail that lead down to the cove.  “He seems excited about something,” Yǎn-sui remarked blandly, “We should hurry.”

“Ah, yes, that’s… EEK!”

“Well, I did want you to hurry, but was that really necessary?” Rinzen wanted to know several seconds later, trying to stifle a snigger as Yǎn-sui calmly slung a distinctly ruffled Jiān from his shoulder and placed her on the ground in front of him.  

“It was the most efficient method.  I took care to run at top speed so no one would see. Jiān’s dignity is uncompromised,” Yǎn-sui answered pithily.

Jiān emitted a noise not unlike steam escaping a clay pot.  “‘Dignity’ my foot!” she sputtered, rounding on Yǎn-sui, “I told you to give me some warning before throwing me over your shoulder like… like…!”

“A sack of yams?” suggested Rinzen with puckish helpfulness.

“Yes, that!” Jiān agreed, jerking her veiled hat into place and turning away from Yǎn-sui in a huff.  “And stop grinning, it’s not funny!”

“Yes, milady,” Yǎn-sui acquiesced, resuming his customary stoic façade.  “What is it that was so important Rinzen?  Is the fortification not going to be completed on time?”

“Heh?  Oh, no, no problem like that, just something some of the kids found in their secret cave that might be of interest,” the airbender explained, waving them to follow after him as he turned back down the rocky thread of the trail.

“‘Secret cave’?” Yǎn-sui echoed.  Instead of following Rinzen, he jumped down onto the gravelly ground twenty feet below, into the midst of an assembled handful of whelps who had clearly not expected giants to be falling from the sky.  “Where is this secret cave?” he demanded of them.

The smallest urchins began crying, while their elders merely gaped in surprise.  Yǎn-sui frowned and growled, annoyed.  For some reason, this made even the older ones crumple and sob in fear.

“Nice one, that,” Rinzen observed, lofting over to Yǎn-sui with a casual gust of air that propelled him clear of the rockface.  “Remind me never to let you babysit,” he muttered before turning to the children and trying to calm them down, reassuring them that Yǎn-sui was not a monster, just a big mean, scary man.

“I thought humans didn’t like lying to children,” Yǎn-sui mentioned to Jiān as she came running up, rather flummoxed at being left behind.

“Sh, you,” she hissed at him.  She cooed like a mother dove over the still-sobbing whelps, promising pretty stones from the river-bottom for those who were brave and did not cry.

Yǎn-sui rolled his eyes and folded his arms.  Even beasts knew to knock sense into uncooperative offspring, not coddle them.

“Hey, Mr. Yǎn-sui!”

Yǎn-sui glared down at the sturdy female whelp who had addressed him, looking up at him with amusement rather than fear.  “What.”

“Aw, don’t you remember me?” she demanded with a pout, pulling on her bushy ponytail.

“No,” replied Yǎn-sui.

The brat stuck her tongue out at him.  “Fine, if you’re gonna be like that, hell if I tell you where the secret cave is or about the special rock!”  She made to walk away, and managed two steps before she was hauled aloft by the back of her tunic.

“I found what I need, if milady and Rinzen can deal with the rest,” Yǎn-sui announced over the angry squawking of the whelp twisting in his grip.

Jiān and Rinzen stared, stunned, while the pack of whelps ceased their squalling and proceeded to cackle with glee.  The girl responded with a flood of invectives hollered at the top of her lungs so that her face bloomed deep crimson.

“Yǎn-sui, put Jiao down right now!” Jiān gasped, “You’re scaring her!”

“She doesn’t sound scared,” said Yǎn-sui, after a particularly nasty oath the girl fired at him coupled with a vain swipe at his face with her fist, but he obeyed nonetheless.  The moment Jiao’s bare feet touched the gravel, she kicked him as hard as she could in the shin.  The other whelps went dead silent, clearly expecting some horrible reprisal.  “Satisfied?” he asked her wryly, rather enjoying her tantrum.

“… Pretty much,” Jiao grumbled, wiping her still-red face and glaring at her whispering packmates, “I’ll show you and the lady-priestess the cave now.  Xing’s probably wondering what the hold-up is.”

Jiao stalked over to the far end of the shore, past the overturned rain-glistened shells of boats to where the arm of the island formed a wall perpendicular to shore and river.  Here, a narrow series of stones skirted the rockface, a ghost-path too fragile and too faint to be followed by anyone larger than a child.  Jiao did not hesitate, footing her way lightly along the stones, not waiting to see if she was being followed.  Exchanging glances, Yǎn-sui and Jiān took out after her across the water.

Jiao grinned as they caught up, rounding the terminus of the island where it met the open river.  With the distinct flair of showing off for their benefit, she quickened her pace, leaping from stone to stone, until they were well clear of the cove and nearly at the extreme western end of the island.  Yǎn-sui scented Xing before they saw him, standing guard in a natural alcove carved into the rockface.

“I brought the lady-priestess and Mr. Yǎn-sui!” Jiao announced unnecessarily.  She patted the shorter boy on the head, much as though he was a well-behaved dog.  “Good job on keeping a lookout.”

“Didn’t really have to, since no one else knows about this place,” Xing replied grumpily, clearly irritated by her condescension and the cold rain that had soaked him through.

“Here it is,” Jiao said, ignoring him, pointing at a low recess in the alcove, just above the waterline.  A whelp Jiao’s size could just barely fit into the opening.  Yǎn-sui knelt down and stared into the darkness, breathing deeply of the air that it exhaled in slow breaths.  The latent power here was carefully hidden to seem inconsequential, and he had his suspicions.

“What did you find in there?” he asked Jiao and Xing.

“We found a cave, a big one, and in the back of it was a rock that looks like a big bear-dog,” Jiao blurted triumphantly, before Xing could get a word in, “It talks.”

“‘Talks’?” Jiān echoed, blinking in surprise.

“Only once,” Xing informed her, beating Jiao to the punch, “Just this morning, Jiao tried to put a wreath of flowers around its neck and it told her to go away.”

“It did not!” Jiao protested, “She told me not to touch her, is all!”  She turned to Jiān and Yǎn-sui.  “It was really exciting, and I wasn’t the least bit afraid even though all the other kids got scared and- !”

“I wasn’t scared either!” Xing interjected, “Why else do you think I said I’d stay out here and guard the cave until you brought Lady Jiān and Master Yǎn-sui!?”

“You too were scared – you fell over!” Jiao shot back.

“Only because I was surprised and because someone pushed me!  You fell over too!”

“I did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“NOT!”

“TOO!”

“Enough.”  Yǎn-sui hauled the children up by the crowns of their heads, suspending them over the water.  Both shut their jaws with a snap, goggling at him.  “That’s better.”  He placed them back on the rocks, rubbing their scalps and gawping at each other in silent amazement, and turned to Jiān.  “They’ve found Oh’s totem.”

“I did wonder where she was,” Jiān confessed, gazing at the hole in the rock a troubled frown creasing her brow.

“She never told you,” Yǎn-sui said, a statement rather than a question.  He was not surprised.  An Earth Spirit’s totem anchored them to the physical plane, allowing them to manifest their spiritual bodies into corporeal form.  If a totem were destroyed, the Spirit did not die, not in the sense that Men and Beasts die; instead, they became little more than shadows of themselves, largely powerless, often choosing to fade away into Mother Qi’s body once more.  It was their most vulnerable point, sought eagerly by their foes, so it made sense that Oh kept its location to herself.  That the humans had stories about ghosts haunting this particular patch of land only made sense.

“Jiao and Xing, I want you to do something for me,” he said to the whelps, “Do either of you have a knife?”

“I do,” Jiao volunteered, taking a chipped obsidian skin-scraper from her tunic and showing it to him.

“Yes, that is perfect,” Yǎn-sui said, baring his teeth in predatory glee.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jiān watching him with a wary expression, though she refrained from comment.  “Now, is the floor of the cave earth?  Is it dirt you can dig up?”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Xing answered, clearly mystified.

“Good.  I want the both of you to go back into the cave, scratch together enough dirt to make a small mound, the size of your two fists together.  When you do that, cut your palms with the knife and mix the blood into the…”

“Yǎn-sui, what are you trying to have them do?” Jiān interrupted, appalled.  The whelps took their cue from her, staring at him in mute apprehension.

“Milady, I ask you to trust me,” he said, “There is a reason Oh did not tell you the location of her totem, and I plan to remedy that slight.”  Jiān stared hard at him, then lowered her head, letting the veils swing into place for a moment before she turned to Xing and Jiao.

“Children, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she said gently.

“I want to know what he’s up to, telling us to do this, before I say yes or no,” Xing said stoutly, folding his arms and shooting Yǎn-sui a challenging stare.

“Y-yeah, me too!” Jiao added, a trifle hesitantly.

“Well said.  After you’ve mixed the blood into the dirt, take it and smear it on the totem, preferably on the snout or the chest or the paws,” Yǎn-sui continued.  “If she moves or speaks, ignore her, until you both have daubed her with the mud.  When you finish, say this: ‘Oh, born of Earth from the womb of Mother Qi, we bind thee.  We beseech thee, by blood and Earth, to defend both from the Enemy, as mother defends her cubs.’  Repeat that, so I know you have it.”

The whelps chorused the invocation in tremulous voices, each stumbling after the first dozen words.  Yǎn-sui had them repeat it until they could both say it in unison, in strong, sure tones.  “This is to make sure the Spirit fights for us tomorrow, isn’t it?” Jiao asked breathlessly, once Yǎn-sui announced himself satisfied with their oration.

“Precisely,” Yǎn-sui replied, baring his teeth with grim humor.

Jiān bowed her head again; her silence told him that she knew as much as he did that Oh had no interest in defending humans against demons.  He would wager she had even begged Oh to do so and been refused.  Why else would she have sought to bind him to her will?

“Oh will not harm them,” he said to her, after Jiao and Xing crawled into the hole and disappeared into the hidden cave, “She is female, they are cubs; even if she despises the race of Men, it would violate her nature to shield the young and weak.”

“You’re asking them to bind her the same way I bound you,” Jiān said in a low voice, taut with something akin to anger but laced with regret.

“Yes,” Yǎn-sui answered simply.

“She will hate you.”

“I do not care what she thinks.”

“I’m angry with you.”

“Yes.  You also did not stop me or the whelps.”

“You aren’t sorry?”

“No.  You bound me to defend your humans with all my strength and skill.  I merely obey your will.”

“Then my will is a terrible thing indeed.”

Yǎn-sui did not reply.  Jiān had stated irrefutable fact.  She had accepted it, that night when she had chosen not to drown him, but to say it aloud, to place Thought and Idea into Word, told him that she had only now fully understood.

Presently, a scratching, scrabbling noise came from the hole.  Xing and then Jiao, blinking and rubbing their dark-sensitive eyes with mud and blood smeared hands, emerged into the pale morning light.  Jiān moved immediately to cleanse them of the mud, healing the raw gashes in their palms.  They paid no attention to her, eagerly reporting to Yǎn-sui the success of their mission.

“She said to tell you not to forget your meeting at the headwater,” Jiao concluded, eyes shining with wonder at her act of boldness.

“And that if it weren’t for the fact you served the goddess, she’d have crushed your bones in her teeth for what you taught us,” Xing chimed, a trifle too eagerly.

Jiān shot Yǎn-sui a clear “I told you so” glance, which only made him smirk in satisfaction.  “Should she ever get the opportunity, I’ll welcome the fight,” Yǎn-sui said.  He looked skyward, where Agni’s eye appeared as a mere bright circle, like his sister, through the thick cloud cover.  “But for now, let us complete our preparations for battle.”

---

Lhamu landed beside Jiān’s headwater, thrumming nervously to herself and shuffling her ponderous feet as she snorted the cool night air with no small amount of displeasure.

“What’s up, sweety?” Rinzen asked concernedly, jumping down from his seat on her head and patting her cheek.

“Oh is here already,” Yǎn-sui told him from the saddle on Lhamu’s back.  He leapt well clear of the skittish sky bison, restraining the urge to reach for Tiào-fěi as he landed.

“Oh, please, tell us what’s going on,” Jiān said, lowering herself from Lhamu’s saddle, “Why have you made treaty with the demons who are hunting my people.”

The bear-dog spirit rippled into view, the slender trunks of bamboo fading through her luminescent form as she paced toward them.  She acknowledged Yǎn-sui with a disparaging snort, to which he responded with a wry bow.  “This one shall take thee into the presence of mine father Hái-dǎo, to reveal certain Truths, but thy attendants must first shed their concealments,” she said to Jiān.

“Wait, we have to take off our clothes?” Rinzen yelped.  They stared at him, Yǎn-sui burying his face in his palm.  “What?”

“The removal of garments is not what this one spoke of,” Oh said severely, “but of concealments of self.”  Rinzen blinked, confused; Oh continued, ignoring him, In the order of thy importance, willt thou shed thy concealment.”  She glanced at Yǎn-sui.  “Jiān, remove that one’s glamour, so that his true form be revealed.”

Yǎn-sui cocked his head in surprise.  He had expected a more arduous test from the spirit.  Earth Spirits considered themselves guardians of Truth and would reveal it to a supplicant only after a trial of the soul, to determine worth based on some measure known only to themselves.  With a shrug, he walked over to Jiān and knelt in front of her.  “By your leave, milady,” he said.

“I just hope I can put it back the same way, or there will be all sorts of questions,” Jiān said in undertone as she drew a chord of water from the pool and cast it over Yǎn-sui.  As the glamour dissolved, Yǎn-sui stood and stretched, growling in luxurious delight of being clad once more in his own blue skin.  He scratched at his cheek- and browplates with his claws and rubbed the tips of his ears and bases of his horns, feeling the tightness fade away.

“Whoa, you’re blue!” Rinzen blurted.  He winced in apology as soon as the words escaped him.  “Obviously, you knew that,” he muttered ruefully, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Just… surprised me, I guess.”  His gaze flicked over Yǎn-sui, apparently fascinated by his horns and fangs.  “You know, I wouldn’t have used such strong language with you if I’d known what you looked like before.”

Yǎn-sui grinned, revealing even more of his fangs.  “Just be grateful to Jiān that she bonded me to never harm humans,” he said, enjoying Rinzen’s discomfort immensely.

“Yǎn-sui, enough of that, you’re making Lhamu upset,” Jiān chided, although she was smothering her own mirth.  “But I hate to think you have to watch how you speak with Yǎn-sui if you’re afraid of him now, Rinzen.”

“Hey, if I only got scared just because I know what he looks like, I’d be an idiot,” Rinzen protested, “I was afraid of him before, but I was just really good at hiding it!”

“You continue to amaze me, human, with your flashes of intelligence,” Yǎn-sui drawled.

“Just as you continue to amaze me, demon,” the airbender riposted with a smirk.

“Yes, the both of you are quite amazing,” Jiān interjected before Yǎn-sui could retort, “I’m very happy that you recognize that, but if you can cut out the playful banter, Oh is getting annoyed.”

The spirit was indeed looking irked, glaring at both Yǎn-sui and Rinzen with baleful amber eyes.  “If thy frivolity has concluded, might this one proceed before Agni’s eye discovers us here?” she growled.  It was the first time Yǎn-sui had ever heard sarcasm from an Earth Spirit.

“Please do, Oh,” Jiān said graciously, without hint of irony.

Oh’s gaze fixed on Rinzen, who smiled nervously.  “Upon thee is the Mark of the Sky Mother’s protection,” she said, voice suddenly grave, “About thee is an aura of darkness and blood.  Reveal unto this one and thy allies that sin which thou hast concealed in thy soul.”

Lhamu emitted a sudden loud bark of anger as Rinzen paled and stared at Oh in shock.

“Rinzen, what’s wrong?” Jiān asked, laying her hand on his shoulder.

To Yǎn-sui’s surprise, the airbender shied away from her, as though her touch had burned him.  Lhamu growled, sidling around Jiān and Rinzen, clearly intent on charging at Oh.

“Lhamu, stop!”  Rinzen rushed to cut in front of Lhamu, his hands braced against her forehead as the beast stopped and lowed in puzzlement.  “It’s alright… I’ll be alright.  If it’s what it takes to help Jiān, it’s alright.  Besides, it’s something I’d have had to tell someone eventually,” he told her in a low, pained voice.  Lhamu growf-ed mournfully, nuzzling his torso.  He smiled wanly at Jiān.  “I’m okay.  Sorry about the ruckus.”  He heaved a deep breath and looked up at Oh.  “Ten years ago, I killed three men.  For this reason, this seal was placed upon me,” he touched the triple swirl tattooed into his neck, “and I was sent into exile, to be known to all Air Nomads as one who has violated the highest Laws.”

“No, Rinzen…!” Jiān gasped, hands flying to her mouth as she shook her head in disbelief.

“It was on a journey I took with my betrothed and her family,” said Rinzen in a hollow voice of dark reminisce, “We were given a place to rest in the manor house of a lord who wanted to learn about our ways and what we had seen of the world.  His two sons and a nephew took an interest in my betrothed, but she refused their advances.  If I’d had been there, seen them, stopped them…!  In the dead of night, they took her when she was checking on our sky bison, and...!  

“I don’t know how she got away; they tried to kill her, to keep her from telling the lord what his kin had done, but she escaped.  She was so covered in blood, so…!  I was the first person she saw and she ran to me, fell into my arms, told me what they’d done to her before collapsing unconscious.  I… I saw red, heard thunder drumming in my ears, felt rage like fire in my veins.  I hunted them, hunted them for days, and when I found them, I tore the very breath from their bodies as they pleaded for mercy.”  He sank against Lhamu, staring down at his trembling hands.   The sky bison moaned softly, closing her eyes in reflection of her human’s pain.  

“At first, I did not regret what I’d done.  When I was taken before the lamas, I told them as much.  This seal is only supposed to be painted on a criminal’s neck in henna, so that it fades away as he meditates and makes penance in order to be accepted once again as a restored member of the Nomads.  But I… I had to get it tattooed into me, because I thought I would never repent for what I thought was a just act.  But then, as the years passed… I realized that I had been wrong.”  Rinzen covered his face and laughed, a wretched burst of sound that was more a sob.  “It’s best that this mark can never fade, because I can never make amends, never bring those men back from the dead, never ask their forgiveness, never ask Sonam to be my wife after I murdered in her name.”

Jiān approached wordlessly and folded her arms around him, holding him even as he tried to pull away.  “How terrible,” she whispered, tears falling from her eyes, “how terrible that you carried this pain in you for so long.  How terribly lonely it has been for you and Lhamu.”  She stroked his hair, a gesture of comfort Yǎn-sui had seen performed by human mothers on their crying offspring.  Lhamu nosed Jiān’s shoulder, lowing in thanks.

“I hope you’ve been paid the price you sought, with his Truth,” Yǎn-sui said to Oh coldly, “You should have extracted a more painful confession from me if you were going to be fair.”

“Thine own trial is far from complete, but it is mine father who shall exact the levy,” the spirit returned with equal aloofness, “Do thou now follow this one to the mountaintop.”

---

The jeweled net of stars glittered icily in the blue-black bowl of the sky arching over the pinnacle of the mountain, a patch of darkness directly overhead where the new moon stood.  Oh halted just short of the absolute summit, making obeisance to a weathered boulder that looked no different from any other they had passed along the way before moving to stand beside it.  Jiān immediately sank to her knees and touched her forehead to the ground.  Yǎn-sui swallowed an oath of protest at this humiliating display and followed her example.  Rinzen mimed their actions in a distracted manner, and stayed sitting on the ground even after Jiān and Yǎn-sui stood.  Lhamu coughed and ducked her head, settling down next him.

The blank face of the boulder shifted, lines like the face of an ancient lion-turtle traced in sand by a somnolent hand scrawling over it.  Eyes, twin pebbles of beryl emerged, glowing with a weary illumination that was nowhere near as bright as Oh’s, but speaking silently of centuries long gone.  Yǎn-sui did not need to be told that this was Hái-dǎo, Oh’s father, and god of the island.  He did wonder why the god thought so highly of himself that he should summon Jiān before him and not appear in his full corporeal form as a common courtesy.  Jiān was clearly neither surprised nor offended by Hái-dǎo’s affectation, but it galled Yǎn-sui all the same.

“Ah, Jiān…”  The god spoke with a voice that was the whisper of leaves caressing stone, a dry, tired voice that perturbed Yǎn-sui, used to the arrogant, booming voices of the Earth Gods who treated with Agni, with its weakness.  Had Hái-dǎo suffered a mortal injury?  “It has been many years since we last spoke.”

“It has, Lord Hái-dǎo,” she said regretfully, bowing her head, “I am grateful that you have called me before you now to share your wisdom.”

“Remove your veils and let me see the demon marks upon your face,” the god said slowly, the lines of his “mouth” barely moving.

Jiān did as he asked.  Yǎn-sui felt the growl rising in his chest and forcibly restrained it as Hái-dǎo stared long moments at the marks with his aged pebble eyes.  “These are incomplete,” he finally said. For the first time, his gaze went to Yǎn-sui, who stiffened and flexed his claws instinctively under the scrutiny.

A low growl of warning thrummed in Oh’s chest and Yǎn-sui glared at her.  “What do you mean by ‘incomplete’?” he demanded of Hái-dǎo, “How do you even know what they are?”

Hái-dǎo regarded Yǎn-sui in silence, not a flicker in his hard eyes betraying his thoughts.  “You are truly as my daughter described you,” he said after the silence had nearly stretched Yǎn-sui’s patience to breaking, “If you wish to understand, demon, first unsheathe your swords.”

Yǎn-sui cocked his head in confusion, glancing sidelong at Oh.  The spirit bared her fangs in displeasure, but said nothing.  Without a word, Yǎn-sui drew Tiào-fěi from their sheath and held them up at the ready before Hái-dǎo’s eyes.  The blades hummed tensely in his grip, not out of eagerness for blood, but as if they wished to speak aloud.  Yǎn-sui stared at them in shock, cold prickling at the nape of his neck like tiny needles of ice.

“Drive the left into the ground, and cut your palm with the right,” Hái-dǎo said then.

“What?!” Yǎn-sui snarled, only to find Jiān’s hand on his, restraining him.

“Lord Hái-dǎo, what do you intend by telling him to do this?” she asked reproachfully.

“I intend to show him how I know the marks upon your face are incomplete.  If he refuses, then our conference shall end here and you may return to your river,” Hái-dǎo replied tonelessly, as if he did not care whether or not Yǎn-sui would actually follow his command.

“I don’t…!” Jiān began, only to stop short as Yǎn-sui plunged the point of Tiào-fěi’s left blade into the ground, swiping his palm over the razor edge of its mate without pause.

“I can spare a little blood to earn the Truth he holds, if Rinzen can stand to have his shame wrung out of him for it,” Yǎn-sui told her, cupping his paw so that the deep crimson blood welling up in it did not spill over and poison the earth.

“Jiān, heal his wound,” Hái-dǎo ordered the goddess.

Yǎn-sui opened his mouth to tell the god to go jump into the Abyss, but Jiān had already gathered water from the thin air and was applying it to the cut in his palm.  Yǎn-sui flinched as he saw his blood staining her skin, but he did not pull away; she would only order him to hold still.  Jiān looked up and gave him a small, rueful smile, aware of what he was thinking.

“Take up the other sword,” ordered Hái-dǎo just as Jiān let go of Yǎn-sui’s paw, the healing complete, “Now, while his blood is still fresh upon your hand.”

Jiān glanced at Yǎn-sui, who bowed his head in assent; what other choice was there?  Biting her lip, Jiān reached out and placed both hands around Tiào-fěi’s hilt.  “Aaah!” she cried the second she touched it, jumping back from the sword and letting it clang against the ground.  She bowed over her hands, clutching them to her chest.

“Jiān!”  Yǎn-sui dropped the other half of Tiào-fěi without care, seizing her hands to see how she could have possibly been wounded.

“Jiān!”  Rinzen was on his feet now, as was Lhamu.  He glared at Hái-dǎo.  “You bastard, what did you do to her?!”

“I did nothing but what I said I was going to do,” replied Hái-dǎo without expression.

“Jiān!” Yǎn-sui gasped, frantically wiping his blood off her hands, “Jiān!”

“I’m alright Yǎn-sui, I’m alright,” she said shakily, “It just happened so suddenly, it caught me off guard.”  She tossed her head, blowing her bangs out of her face.  “But at least Lord Hái-dǎo proved his point, right?” she asked shakily as Yǎn-sui stared in horror.

Swipes of bloodred had appeared over Jiān’s eyes, so that when she closed them, another pair of eyes seemed to stare back at him.  It was a Mark he knew, although he had never seen it before.

The Mark of Oath.  But more importantly, the Mark of his sire: Zhāng-nán, the God-stealer.  Now he understood why the other Marks had appeared disjointed and contradictory; alongside the third Mark, their Meaning became: “I, Zhāng-nán, swear to die even a traitor’s death to protect this life.”

Blood rushed thundering in his ears.  He saw Jiān’s lips move but did not hear her words.  Rinzen was shaking his arm, staring at him and mouthing something intelligible.  He closed his eyes and shook his head, hard, clapping his paws over his ears.  ‘Why?  How?!  Father, how could this be?!’

‘ “I told you, one day you would learn the Truth, why I betrayed our race.  Today is that day, my son…” ’


Yǎn-sui opened his eyes and stared at Tiào-fěi, discarded on the ground, the left hilt and right blade stained with his darkening blood.  “Father, you… for her…?” he gasped, not wanting to believe.

“Yǎn-sui, what are you talking about?” Jiān asked anxiously, gripping his paws and reaching for his face, “The Marks, what do they mean?  Yǎn-sui?!”

“Tell me!” he howled at Oh and Hái-dǎo, oblivious to her entreaty, “Tell me why these Marks are upon her, why you know!”

“I know because I saw them placed upon her, three centuries ago by the demon known as the God-stealer: Zhāng-nán, the Firstborn of the Demons,” Hái-dǎo intoned, “I know because it was he who told me her tale, and placed her under my daughter’s guardianship and swore to return to protect her, even in altered form.

“Through you, his son, he has honored his oath, for it is his horns, guised as swords, which now lay on the ground before me…”

---

Next Chapter: Part XXVI: Of the Demon Who Loved the Moon - Coming soon, because i get the feeling someone will hunt me down if it doesn't...
Tales of the Spirit World: The Fall of the Blue Spirit

XXIV. Of Twisted Lip and the Demon -> [link]
XXV. Of the God of the Island -> (you are here)
XXVI. Of the Demon Who Loved the Moon -> [link]

---

8D

In other news, voting is now open for the TOSW fanart/fanfic contest.

Also, Tales of the Spirit World: The Fall of the Blue Spirit has a playlist now.

---

EDIT: Core character castmembers will be unavailable for comment until further notice. All response to reader comments will heretofore be fielded by Anu & Co.

Anu: *reading the last few paragraphs* O_O By the Abyss...

Hau: Long chapter is looooooooooooong~!!! D8

Punga: I don't approve of such indulgences on the part of the author, especially if I'm not the subject matter. :devilish:

Uutu: Why, you wanted to hear more about you and your stupid little human playm-

Punga: *backhands him across the room*

Anu: :evileye: Punga, stop doing that - his mental faculties are comprised as it is.

Punga: Little shit deserved it. :D

Anu: ... true.

Uutu: @_@
© 2008 - 2024 sylvacoer
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Kiyoko-mai's avatar
ooh~ there's a lot more bodily contact between the two in this chapter~~~:iconimhappyplz::giggle:

.....:jawdrop:WHAT THE NBJUIGAENJTRBOGFNJVF!!!!!!!! His dad. When did he. How-WHAAAAAAAAAAT THE SWORDS ARE HIS HORNS!!!!!!!!!!:jawdrop: