Way of the Immortals

Path of the Divine

By Harmon Cooper

Copyright © 2019 by Harmon Cooper

Copyright © 2019 Boycott Books

Edited by Andi Marlowe @ Andromeda Editing

Audiobook narrated by Neil Hellegers

www.harmoncooper.com

writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com

Twitter: @_HarmonCooper

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Stages of the Path of the Divine

Chapter One: Portal Nonfiction

“I’m glad you all could make it,” I told the small group of guys who had gathered for Tom’s bachelor party. I held my beer in the air, ready to kickstart the celebration.

“Hey, I was supposed to deliver the toast,” Bobby said, the balding middle school teacher not bothering to stand. Evan was next to him, Tom’s friend from college already drunk from an afternoon of pre-gaming.

“No, you told me you’d be drunk by this point, and that I’d better handle it. I literally have the text message from you that says, ‘you’re doing the toast, Nick, I’m drunk,’” I reminded Bobby. “I’ve only had one beer, remember? I just got here.”

“All right, you got me,” Bobby said, showing me his palms. “Maybe I did say something like that.”

“Sit down, Nick,” Hugo told me with a grin. “And get the hell off your damn high horse with that ‘I’ve only had one beer’ shit. You’ll catch up soon enough.”

Hugo had traveled the furthest to make it to Tom’s bachelor party, taking the redeye from San Diego to Boston. He was a former Marine, and by my estimation, he was going to be the only one that made it through the night.

I would give it a shot, but Hugo always made it to the finish line, ready for another lap.

“Enough, enough,” I told the group, my beer still in the air. “To Tom Griff, future Mr. Lindsay Hale, one of my oldest friends…”

Tom snorted. “I’m not taking her last name, you asshole.”

“Are you sure about that, dude?” Hugo asked, punching Tom in the leg, both of them laughing as Tom winced in pain.

“Just let me finish the toast,” I told them, my words cut short once the windows burst open, a purple spark of electricity exploding into the room.

A subsonic sound rattled the floorboards and all the glass in the home shattered, as a sphere of energy took shape before us.

Suddenly awake from his beery slumber, Tom’s friend Evan tried to kick over the coffee table, only to be sucked right into the purple sphere kicking and screaming.

“What the hell?” Bobby shouted as my feet were whipped out from beneath me, a lasso of energy pulling me toward the oscillating sphere of purple.

“Nick!” Tom screamed.

Launching into action, Hugo dropped to the ground and hooked his arms around me.

“I got you, buddy!” he said, his muscles bulging as he tried to stop me from being sucked into the sphere.

But the sphere was stronger than both of us, and it was only a matter of moments before we were both sucked in.

There was no tunnel made of light, no freefalling, no pain, and no warning.

Hugo and I were simply deposited on a breakwater made of stones covered in algae, the air smelling of brine, seawater spraying into our faces as a wave hit the rocks.

I gasped as I took in my surroundings, at the sea that stretched into the distance, the mountains beyond.

“Okay, okay…” Hugo said, nodding his head. “Evan, we have to find Evan. First thing.”

“Wait, what the hell just happened?” I asked. Everything around me spun as I tried to get my head around what was happening.

“Doesn’t matter, we find Evan and…”

Tom fell out of the sky and straight into the water.

“Tom!” Hugo cried, taking off his shirt, ready to jump in. I caught his arm just in time, preventing him from diving.

“What the hell, Nick!?”

“Dude.”

“Dude…” Hugo said, his eyes going wide.

There was no way in hell we were going to be able to take on what we saw rise out of the water.

A sea serpent?

No, a fucking sea dragon, something easily as large as a city bus, with glistening scales and a terrible maw filled with sharp teeth.

But rather than run, Hugo lifted one of the smaller rocks and tried to hurl it at the dragon, which was definitely a mistake as the monster lifted itself even higher into the air. It crash-landed onto the breakwater, trying to eat Hugo alive.

The wave it created slapped me in the chest, sending me under the water.

I felt something move against my side, the dark water and gray sky making it difficult to see what lurked beneath the depths.

A hand came around my mouth, another hand landed on my chest, both pulling me backward.

I squirmed away, kicking toward the breakwater, faster than I’d ever swum before. I pressed forward with all my might, fueled by adrenaline, trying my best to come out of the water and figure out what had happened to Hugo.

Reaching the breakwater, I scrambled up onto the rocks just as Bobby fell before me, the middle school teacher shrieking until he realized he was on solid ground.

“Nick! Nick!” he started screaming again when he saw me kicking at the water, pale white hands trying to grab at my feet. “What the fuck was that!?”

“No idea…” I said as I managed to free myself.

“Where are the others?” he asked, his hands on his forehead. “What the hell was trying to pull you into the water?”

“I really don’t know, man!”

I could see something ominous moving beneath the sea, something causing a small swirl in the surface of the water. It sent a shiver down my spine, my heart racing just as fast as it had ever beat before.

Bobby and I heard a terrible roar as the sea dragon came out of the water again, landing on the breakwater, spines lifting off its back.

“Hugo…” I started to say, pointing toward the sea dragon.

“Hugo’s a fucking sea dragon!?”

“No, that’s where he was…”

“I’m out of here!” Bobby said, starting to run.

I looked back to the sea dragon to see the monster opening its mouth, water spritzing the air all around it, its beady red eyes locked onto me.

And rather than stick around to see what it was capable of, I took off toward the shore.

Chapter Two: Driftwood on a Foreign Shore

We reached the shore at the same time, Bobby jumping as if the land was moving away from him. I glanced over my shoulder to see the sea dragon had dipped back into the water, a whirlpool the only proof it had ever existed.

“Where’s Evan?” Bobby asked frantically. “Tom? Hugo’s goddamn dragon food, you said so yourself!”

“I did?”

“How the fuck? We’re drunk. We’re drunk. You’re drunk, I’m drunk. We’re drunk.”

“I had one goddamn beer, Bobby!”

“Did you put some mushrooms in my beer or some kind of crazy Western Mass hippy concoction?”

“What? No!” I bent forward, my hands on my knees now as I tried to catch my breath. I was sopping wet, but it was the last thing on my mind.  “I don’t even live in Western Mass anymore, I live in Worcester.”

“Same damn thing.”

I clenched my fists shut for a moment. “Okay, okay, let me think this through. Evan was the first to go into the portal.”

“Yeah, I saw that, Nick!”

I swallowed hard. “I’m just trying to get a grip on what happened here. Then Hugo and I went in. Tom’s out there.” I nodded toward the sea.

“Are you saying that Tom was…”

“I don’t know what I’m saying! We were just sitting in your apartment, and now this.”

I looked to the sea, to the end of the breakwater. The waves were calm now, and for a moment I questioned if there had been a dragon in the first place. I shuddered. I knew it had happened, and I also knew what I had experienced once falling in the water.

“We’re going to die here,” Bobby kicked a piece of driftwood. “Wherever the hell we are, we’re going to die here.”

“I don’t know…”

“What are you talking about, Nick? Two of our friends are already dead. Evan may or may not be dead, but he wasn’t our friend to begin with,” Bobby said, pacing now. “You said Tom fell into the sea. I’m guessing Hugo went after him.”

“Correct. And then the dragon came.”

Bobby paused. “Nope, dragons don’t exist. No way, no how.”

“We both saw it,” I reminded him.

“Sure, that complicates things. And we both know Evan’s fat ass isn’t getting very far. Who knows if he can even swim.”

“I’m sure Evan can swim.”

“He’s severely overweight.”

“Maybe by a hundred pounds,” I told Bobby, not sure why I was arguing with him.

“Well, if he did make it to safety, something will eat him. If there are dragons here, they will eat Evan. Mark my fucking words, Nick. I mean, if I were a dragon, I would eat Evan. He has the most meat on him.”

“I thought you said he was fat.”

“You know what I’m goddamn trying to say here, Nick!” Bobby clenched his fists at his sides. “Okay, okay, enough shit-talking. Sorry. I’m upset. Where are we? Let’s start there.”

“I’m upset too. This is some worst case scenario shit.”

Both of us looked around; all I could see was that we were on a beach in front of a vast sea, mountains to our right, and jungle behind us. Bobby checked his phone, grimacing. “No service. What about you?”

“My phone’s on the table at your place.” I took another glance around. “New England? Are we still in New England?”

“No, it was winter in New England. That’s a jungle. There are no jungles in New England.”

“The water kind of reminds me of New England, its coldness, its darkness.”

“No way. We’re somewhere else, maybe somewhere…” Bobby looked at the mountains in the distance. “If we were somewhere tropical, there probably wouldn’t be snow on the tops of the mountains.”

“Asia?”

“How the hell would we go from Boston to Asia in a matter of seconds?”

“Shit, Bobby, I’m just throwing out suggestions here! How often does a portal open up in the middle of a bachelor party?”

He nodded. “Good point. Sorry, again. This has my blood pressure up, and yeah, crap. You don’t think someone spiked our beers, do you? This isn’t some of your edibles, is it?”

“Edibles? Come on, Bobby. And who’s going to spike our beers? It was a bachelor party with five people, all of whom have known each other since childhood. Well, except for Evan. He’s new to the group.”

“That’s a nice way to say it. He’s Tom’s friend. Evan was never part of our group. But I agree with you. No one would spike our drinks.” Bobby ran his fingers through his goatee. “Except Evan, but even that seems like something he wouldn’t do.”

“We’re not hallucinating, Bobby,” I said, reaching down and taking a fistful of sand. “I’ve tripped before. This is not what it’s like.” I let the sand fall from my fingertips. “Trust me.”

Our dialogue was cut short when we noticed something on the other end of the beach. A group of men moved along the shoreline, and from a distance it looked like they were…

“Soldiers?” I asked.

Both of us peered off into the distance, confirming what we had seen.

“Looks like it to me,” Bobby finally said. “Shit, shit!”

“I’m right there with you man, let’s just… ”

The soldiers were about a quarter of a mile away, and if I wasn’t seeing things, it seemed like they had swords at their sides.

“Follow my lead,” Bobby said with a firm nod. “I speak Spanish.”

I gave him a funny look. “What good is that going to do?”

“I don’t know. Do you speak any other languages?”

“I dabbled in German in college.”

“Before or after you dropped out?”

I took a deep breath in, still trying to make sense of all this. “Actually, it was after, during one of my trips to Berlin.”

“And no matter how long you spent in Europe, you still never found yourself.” Bobby turned in the direction of the marching soldiers. “Let me handle this.”

“If you say so.”

“I speak Spanish, Nick,” he huffed. “Just let me do the talking.”

Chapter Three: Boar

“Seriously, man, those guys have swords.”

“Relax, Nick, and maybe you’ll learn something about diplomacy here,” Bobby said as he trudged ahead, both of us walking along the sand, a few seagulls now circling overhead as if they were vultures.

Vulture seagulls? I really hoped not.

“Hola!” Bobby said, waving at the men.

There were about thirty soldiers, led by a short guy wearing a full suit of samurai armor. All of them wore helmets with lion masks over their faces. Only their commander was maskless.

“They don’t speak Spanish,” I told Bobby again as he waved at the group.

“Well, I have definitely gotten their attention, so there’s that. And just give me a moment here; we don’t know that they don’t speak Spanish yet.”

“Why would we be transported to a world where there are guys patrolling the beach with swords, and for some reason, those guys speak Spanish? If anything, their armor looks Asian.”

“I’m just trying to make sense of all this!” Bobby said, turning to me, frustration in his eyes. “I was just sitting there having a beer when Evan got sucked in. Shit. I almost made it to the door. If I’d just had another moment, another couple of seconds…”

“Here we go,” I said as the commander approached us, his hand on the hilt of the sword.

“Que paso?” Bobby asked.

“What is the meaning of this?” the commander asked, drawing his blade.

The other soldiers all went for their weapons as well. A few in the back held large morning stars instead of swords.

“You can understand us?” I asked, naturally raising both hands.

“Of course we can understand you,” the commander growled. “Why are you dressed in this way?”

“In what way?”

Bobby was in a blue dress shirt that was tucked into his jeans, a little disheveled now. I was also in a pair of jeans, although mine were darker. I also wore a gray T-shirt and a black jacket.

The commander pointed his sword at Bobby. “You two are coming with us.”

“Now, hold on a damn minute,” Bobby said, taking a step forward. “All we’re asking for here is a little help. Maybe some information too.”

“Help and information?” the commander asked, a grin coming across his face. He had a handlebar mustache, and there were multiple scars and lacerations across his cheeks like he’d been in a fight with a cougar. “What information would you like?”

“Where are we?” Bobby asked him point-blank. “Let’s start there.”

“You are in the Kingdom of Lhasa, and under the authority given to me by Madame Mabel Pemagatshel, you are now my prisoner.”

“Prisoner?”

The commander struck Bobby, slashing his blade across the chest. “You dare question my authority!?”

“Fuck!” Bobby said as he stumbled backward, blood spreading across his dress shirt. He fell to one knee and looked to me. “Run, Nick, go!”

“No,” I started to tell him, even though thirty guys had their swords and morning stars pointed at me.

“Go, dammit, save yourself!” Bobby said, wincing as he sucked in deep breaths. “Don’t be an idiot. Run, Nick!”

“If you run…” the commander started to say, his blade now aimed at Bobby’s throat.

But I would never hear the next words that came out of his mouth.

I took off toward the jungle, faster than I’d ever run before.

I could hear the soldiers chasing after me, the clink of their armor.

And even as my calf muscles screamed, as Bobby yelled for me to run faster, I charged ahead, no idea where I was going or how I’d get away from them. I kept my eyes on the space about seven feet in front of me, looking for dips in the land, loose roots.

As I reached the jungle, I heard the cry of monkeys and birds in the trees above.

I continued forward, nearly stumbling once my foot got caught under a rock, the sounds of the soldiers just over my shoulders.

I kept it up, even though I was starting to get winded, even though it felt like I was running uphill.

There were massive trees with elaborate root systems, colorful mushrooms growing on their trunks, moss-covered rocks, creatures scurrying in every direction wherever I stepped foot.

Everything was a blur.

I made my way through a stream and came to a glade filled with white flowers.

I paused, listening for the soldiers.

Everything was silent, but, rather than stick around, I moved to the other side of the glade, ducking behind a few shrubs when a man in dark blue robes appeared.

His all white eyes narrowed on me as the robed man dropped into an attack pose, and was just about to deliver his final blow when a boar exploded out of the bush, slamming right into him, the man bursting into a cloud of black smoke.

This gave me the time I needed to make a run for it.

The creature snorted, turning its attention to me, cutting its tusks into the ground as it charged. The boar was as large as a cow, angry, snarling, overturning anything in its way as it nearly caught up with me.

I took off, well aware that the thing would catch up with me if I didn’t get some leverage soon.

And who had the robed man been? Even as I hauled ass into the jungle, I couldn’t forget his strange white eyes, the way he had appeared out of nowhere and attacked me.

Had he been one of the soldiers? Why didn’t he have a sword?

The boar made a terrible noise behind me; I looked for a tree that would be easy to climb, and I eventually saw one with a few rocks in front of it, and bulges in its trunk that would give me some grip.

I lunged toward it and started climbing.

The boar charged the tree, ramming its tusks into its trunk. The tree seemed to stretch all the way up to heaven, but I was high enough now that there was no way that the creature would get to me.

The only thing was, the giant boar seemed strong enough to actually knock the tree down if he kept at it, which meant I needed to find even higher ground, or at least, more stable ground.

Trying my best not to look down, and ignoring the tingle in my stomach and my feet, I scooted out onto a limb. I reached out for the next tree over, one with a trunk that was even thicker than mine.

I went for it.

And I was happy that I had enough upper body strength to at least pull my legs up and curl them around the new branch, shimmying my way down to a more stable location and kicking up pollen in the process.

But the damn boar hadn’t given up.

It turned its attention to my new tree, ramming its tusks into the trunk, a tremor reaching me every time the boar connected.

The tree ran alongside a cliff, but from my current location, I could only see rock. If I climbed about twenty feet up, I’d get to a point where I would be able to get onto the ledge above, someplace the boar would never be able to reach me.

Not without a hike.

A wave of exhaustion hit me, and I had to forcibly keep my eyes open as I started to climb.

“Get it together, Nick,” I whispered to myself as if that would do any good.

I ignored the boar below, the snorting bastard. I was sweating profusely now, the muscles in my body screaming.

It wasn’t that hot out; maybe it was adrenaline that was doing something to my sweat glands. But I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was making me tired.

I reached another limb, and one of my legs gave way.

I just managed to hold on, pulling it up over the side, noticing that my leg was…

Numb?

I looked up, and I looked down.

It wasn’t a great place to rest, but as I yawned again, I found a groove in the trunk that was deep enough to prevent me from falling over the side.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I tried to open them again, but everything started to mash together, my nostrils flaring as I inhaled more pollen.

Pollen?

My hands fell to my sides and I knew there was no fighting it.

I was out for the count.

Chapter Four: Nature Finds a Way

It was dark when I awoke, a gasp coming to me as soon as I laid eyes upon a woman standing before me.

Illuminated by green fireflies, it appeared as if the tree limb had curled backward, its branches splitting and merging back together to form the body of a woman, at least most of her body. There was something serpent-like about her form considering she was all woman from the torso up, erect nipples, bark-covered skin, sharp features, and simply a part of the tree below her waist.

Why are you in my tree? a voice asked me, rippling the leaves all around me and kicking up more pollen.

“This is your tree?”

The trunk behind me adjusted for my weight, and slowly pressed me up. I stood, balancing myself as I looked for a way to escape.

It is. Do you want to leave?

“I don’t even know where I am,” I told the tree woman. She wiped some green leaves off her forehead, sweeping them over her shoulder.

You are in what mortals call the Kingdom of Lhasa, and you are in my tree.

“I’m sorry…”

There’s nothing to apologize for, she said as a branch lowered to the back of my head, lightly grazing against me. It was my pollen that made you drowsy.

More green fireflies appeared, swirling around both of us, illuminating the area. There was something off about the way she was looking at me, a hunger behind her eyes.

“You can control them?”

Yes.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I admitted to her. “I was just with my friends, and then I appeared here, near the water.”

I can’t go to the water. There are dreadful things in there.

“Definitely. I saw a dragon, and there were hands coming up from beneath the waves, trying to grab me. Soldiers too, among other things,” I said, recalling the man who had attacked me and the boar who had attacked him.

So you escaped them only to find my tree?

I nodded as she pressed just a bit closer to me.

You’re an outsider then.

“Ever heard of a place called Massachusetts? I didn’t think so. That’s where I’m from.”

Yet somehow, you made your way to my tree…

I watched as her lips parted, the tree woman showing me a set of razor-sharp teeth.

It has been a while since I fed, and I prefer my prey to be awake when I eat them.

“You don’t need to do this,” I said, both hands coming up as I looked around again. I could drop to the bottom, but that was a good forty or fifty feet, and even if I didn’t kill myself, who knew whether the boar was still down there, waiting for me.

My only other option was to climb up to the top of the tree and move to the cliff.

I lowered my hands and placed them on the trunk behind me, where I found the knob. It wasn’t enough to boost me up, but it would have to do.

It won’t be as bad as you think, she said, licking her lips, but I will do my best to make it quite painless.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

I turned away from her, pulling myself up to the next limb. As soon as I made it up to the next notch, the tree began to move, the woman appearing to my right, pressing out of the trunk, looking at me curiously.

You aren’t going to escape; there’s no reason to exert yourself.

Rather than reply, I simply used her body as leverage, kicking myself up even further by pressing her away with my foot.

The tree began to quake. The limbs whipped at me, bulges forming in the trunk to throw me off course, the bark peeling back with each movement I took.

I was just about to reach the top of the tree when her face emerged from the trunk directly in front of me, inches away from my nose.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told her. “I don’t mean you any harm. I’m just trying to find my friends.”

The woman’s mouth parted, and her forked tongue spilled out, curling up, tasting me from the chin all the way up to my nose.

Her eyes went wild.

The woman’s throat started to quiver, her skin darkening, the fireflies around her brightening.

I must eat you, she hissed, her mouth opening. I must have you!

I pulled myself up to the highest limb that would be able to support my weight, sinking my knee into the tree woman’s face in the process.

The tree shook.

I heard a cracking sound coming from the roots below, as I scurried up to the top and leaped toward the cliffside, just in time for the tree to start falling away, crashing into the jungle below.

I could see the ocean in the far distance, moonlight glistening off its surface. To the west were more mountains, and to the east was a smattering of smoky clouds, obscuring the land.

There was a glow coming from behind me, maybe about a quarter of a mile away, the shadows of people reflected onto a hillside.

I thought about going the opposite direction, trying to make my way off to the right, possibly circumventing whatever the light was coming from, but I was also hungry, afraid, and at this point, ready to turn myself in if it happened to be the soldiers from earlier.

I wasn’t going to survive out here on my own. This much was clear to me.

Not when the trees wanted to eat me, the boars were the size of cows, there were wrathful ninja spirits trying to hand me my ass, and the place had dragons. Fucking dragons. And that was just a summary of everything I’d seen in just the last few hours, there really was no telling…

I shook my head, changing my mode of thinking.

No, I wouldn’t turn myself in.

That would be foolish, but I could at least creep up there and see if I could rescue Bobby in some way.

For all I knew, Bobby was the only one left.

Tom was likely swallowed up by the sea, Hugo went in after him, and my guess was that Evan was dead long before he reached the shoreline.

So if there was someone still alive, it had to be Bobby, and I had to find him. We could survive this together, and hopefully find a way home.

“Okay, you’ve got this,” I told myself as I started to creep toward the fire, the will to live igniting in me.

There was a stretch of tall grass between here and there as if this area used to be a terraced hill. It gave me the cover I needed to move closer to the campfire without being discovered, the spikelets flicking against my face as I crept.

Once I got within earshot of the campfire, it became clear that this wasn’t the soldiers from the shoreline. There were several voices, an older man pleading, others telling him it was hopeless, one of them whimpering.

And rather than creep up on them, I lifted my hands in the air, announcing my presence.

“Who are you?” a man with a shaved head asked, turning to me as he went for a dagger on his belt.

He was joined by a beautiful young woman, an older man and a pair of guys that looked like they could be brothers.

“I come in peace,” I told the group.

“Of course you do,” the man said, lowering his dagger. “You don’t have a weapon.”

“He could be a sorcerer,” the older man grumbled. The area was defined by its campfire in the middle, but there were actually large tents surrounding it, about twice the size of any teepee I had ever seen.

The man with the dagger raised his weapon. “Is that what you are? Some sorcerer from the foothills of Bamda here to collect our foreskins?”

“I assure you I’m not a sorcerer,” I told him. “And I want nothing to do with your foreskins, if that’s, um, a concern you have.” I glanced from the group to one of the large tents. “What’s going on here anyway? Why are you all outside when there are warm tents available?”

“We should be asking you the same thing,” the man said, as the lone woman stepped up behind him, her hands coming to his arm.

“Not now,” he told her, whipping his arm away.

“I have come from…” I nodded toward the sea.

“Have you?”

“Why is he dressed like that, Papa?” the young woman asked.

“I don’t know; I’ve never seen this style of clothing before.”

I glanced down to confirm that I was still wearing what I had been wearing earlier.

The thing was, I’d already seen and been through so much today that it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least bit if all my clothing was gone, replaced by something more native. But no, I was still in my dark jeans, a gray shirt, and a jacket.

I heard a terrible cry from the tent, the ground shaking.

“No, no…” the young woman said, turning to it. She started running toward the tent but her father grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back.

“It’s too late,” he told her. “The spirit already has her.”

“But Papa, she… ”

“There’s nothing we can do now,” said the grandfatherly man standing off to the left. He had a long beard and was missing an eye. Two younger men nodded in agreement behind him, neither one stepping forward to volunteer to go into the tent.

“Just explain to me what happened,” I said, curious now.

“You don’t know?” The man with the dagger looked at me curiously, waiting for a response.

“I honestly don’t.”

“It’s the spirit, my boy! A wrathful one who haunts these hills. We should have listened to her,” he told the older man, wagging his finger at him. “The shaman warned us!”

“Don’t put this on me,” the older man spit. “She warned you what we would need to do if we came here, and you ignored her.”

“So there’s an evil spirit in the tent, is that what you’re telling me?” I asked, looking back at the structure.

“Yes, yes there is,” the man with the dagger said. “What is your name, my boy?”

“Nick Barnette.”

“He really is from somewhere else,” the older man mumbled. “Maybe he’s from the Kingdom of Paro. I’ve never heard a name like that here.”

“I’m not from there,” I assured him.

He waved my concern away. “It doesn’t matter where you’re from, you’re here now. And since you came out of the wild, and you’re clearly a strapping young man capable of taking care of himself…”

The older man exchanged glances with the guy who had a dagger. It was lowered now, but he still held it at his side, just in case he needed to use it again.

“I apologize; this is no way to introduce ourselves,” the man with the weapon said, sheathing his blade. “I’m Kinley. This is my father, Sangay, and my nephews, Druk and Tandin. Some help they are, as you can clearly see. Finally, this is Kiba, my daughter.”

I nodded, waving at all of them. Only Kiba waved back, offering me a warm smile.

“And since you are here, Nick was it?”

“That’s right.”

“Maybe you can help us.”

“I don’t see how,” I started to tell him.

“These are local spirits in these parts,” Kinley said, his father nodding in agreement. “Since you are clearly an outsider, maybe you can stop the demon from taking…” He swallowed hard. “My other daughter is in there—Karzi.”

“My sister,” Kiba said, also tearing up. “My dear sister. Karzi, we are sending someone in!” she shouted, only for her father to scold her for yelling.

“And you want me to go in there and rescue her?” I asked after he finished tugging at her arm and threatening her.

“If you could, please, Nick,” he said with a toothy grin. “These local demons won’t know what to make of you. If you can do this for us, we’ll help you in whatever way you need. In fact…” He offered me a solemn nod. “I will also give you my most prized possession. There, I’ve said it.”

“There’s no need for that…”

Kinley dropped to his knees, his hands coming before him in prayer position. “Please, please. If one of us goes in there, the spirit will affect us all. But you, you’re an outsider. The evil spirit will be confused, you’ll triumph over it!”

“Okay,” I told him, turning to the tent.

I didn’t know what had come over me, but I’d never had someone beg me like that before, and I felt sorry for the bunch.

They were clearly superstitious.

Then again, a tree had just come alive and tried to eat me, so maybe I was the one being foolish.

A terrible cry rang out, the ground shaking and kicking up dust. The two cousins, whatever the hell their names were, dropped to the ground with their hands over their heads, the older man striking both of them with his cane and calling them cowards.

I reached the front of the tent and took a deep breath, waiting for the dust to settle.

Things were about to get weird.

Chapter Five: Evil Spirits

A soft whimpering met my ears once I slipped into the tent.

I still didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I didn’t believe in things like this, at least not in my world.

I tried to recall the daughter’s name, the one who was supposed to be trapped in here by a demon spirit. I remembered it sounding like the word ‘car seat’ so I went for it, hoping I got it correct.

“Car Seat?” I called out.

A hiss of frigid air whispered past me, the opening of the tent shutting, everything pitch black.

“Car Seat?” I tried again, hoping to get this over with.

Something moved in the corner, a metal pail falling to the ground.

“Who’s there?” I asked, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention.

“It is I,” a beautiful, alluring voice said. “And who are you?”

“I’m here for Car Seat,” I said, trying my best to listen for any indication of movement.

I could feel my heart beating faster in my chest, tension tingling in my limbs, but rather than give in to my own fears I pressed forward, taking one more step closer to the center of the tent.

“You have come for me?” the voice asked.

“If you are Car Seat then yes, I’ve come for you. Your family is waiting outside for you.”

“My family?” The woman laughed softly. “Those are bandits out there. They care nothing for me, and they will dispose of you when the time comes. And my name is Karzi.”

“I don’t plan to stick around long enough for that time to come. I’m simply here looking for answers.”

“Yet you have entered my tent seeking my attention.”

“It’s been a long day.”

The woman laughed again. “I like your sense of humor. It’s so nice to meet a true outsider.”

“I’m not able to see in the dark. Is there a way you could turn on a light for me? Then we can continue our discussion.”

“You should have asked when you entered,” the female voice said as green fireflies appeared in the center of the tent, swirling around the top of the room, their forms brightening and turning yellow.

A woman floated before me, her robes hanging off her body, her sex exposed, one of her breasts peeking out. She had beautiful black hair, her nose slightly upturned in a way that reminded me of the young woman I’d seen outside.

“Karzi?” I asked, both hands up now to show that I meant no harm.

She dipped her chin, some of her hair falling into her face.

“You wanted to see me.”

“I did.”

“And what else would you like from me?” she asked, her hand coming out of her robe and going to the front of her nude body.

“That’s not your body,” I told the woman. “And you know it.”

I could see something billowing off the floating young woman’s body now, something resembling a white smoke with sinister appendages.

“You can see me?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave.

“So, you’re the demon?”

The woman laughed, bringing her hand to her mouth, cocking her head to the left as she did so. “An outsider who can actually see me? To think that I will have the chance to kill you here, before word can spread, before you can even start this journey.”

“I’m not here to fight,” I told the evil spirit.

“That’s no longer up to you.”

The young woman dropped to the ground as if she were a bag of sand. The spirit took shape in the air, a female with armor and an incredible sword made of gray smoke.

My natural instinct was to run, but something was keeping me here, some sort of energy telling me I could handle this, to lift my fists and prepare.

“The others will be so happy that I ended this now,” the evil spirit said, her eyes igniting. “There won’t be another one like you for another thousand years, maybe longer.”

“Like me?”

The demon spirit lunged at me with her sword, time slowing to a standstill. It was almost as if she were running in slow motion, each step exaggerated, reminding me of instant replay for some reason.

It was that easy.

I simply stepped aside as the spirit’s attack went right in front of me, cutting into the soil. My next response came rapidly, even if I was unsure that it would work.

I threw my hand forward, opening my fist at the last moment and chopping the ghost at the side of its neck.

Time sped back up and the spirit stumbled forward, breathing heavily, coughing up puddles of smoke onto the ground.

“You… You struck me?”

But rather than say anything I brought my hands back into position, going with it, completely trusting in the moment.

The evil spirit charged me again in slow motion. I stepped out of the way like a matador, bringing another chop onto her back, sending her spilling forward, her skull cracking open and smoke billowing out, hissing.

“No… No…”

I stomped my foot onto her back, a blistering light bursting through to the top of the tent and blowing a hole in the canvas.

The front of the tent flew open and the father ran in with his two nephews. “You did it,” he said, wide-eyed. “You killed the demon!”

“You have done my family such a service,” Kinley said, bowing to me, his nephews bowing behind him.

My hands were shaking now, a wave of euphoria rolling over me. I still didn’t quite understand what I had done. Had I really moved that quickly? How had I just taken down an armed evil spirit?

I recalled the woman, her smoky armor, her sharp blade, the way her eyes ignited.

It was almost like playing a videogame or something, time slowing down allowing me to easily avoid her attacks.

But there was hardly a moment to process what had happened, not with Kinley at my side, tugging my arm, thanking me, promising me his…

“Come again?”

“Both of them, for you. I have been saving both of them for the right person, and the man who can slay a demon spirit is surely the right person!” he declared, his finger in the air. “Druk, Tandin,” he called to his nephews, “prepare our free tent.”

The two nodded and took off, leaving the grandfather standing behind them, beaming at me.

“Kiba, Karzi,” Kinlay said, turning to his daughters. “Go prepare yourselves, the finest oils, I will send him in soon. Only the finest oils, and hurry!”

“Yes, Father,” Kiba said with a short bow. She helped Karzi to her feet, and together, they stepped out of the tent.

“That’s not exactly what I’m…”

“Shhh…” Kinley said, offering me a toothy grin. “There’s no need to be modest here. You can be modest tomorrow once we take you to Nagchu where you will be able to find your friends.”

“How do you know I’ll find my friends there?”

“You said you came from the Sea of Lhasa, did you not?”

“Yes, that direction,” I said, pointing to the far side of the tent.

“My point exactly, outsider. If you came from there, and you came with friends, your friends are probably in the city of Nagchu. It will be a wonderful trip! But tonight, tonight you get to enjoy yourself, and if I am lucky, nine months from now I will have a grandson or two with true power.”

Kinley shoved me outside the tent, calling to his nephews to finish tidying up one of the tents. He rummaged around by the fire for a moment and retrieved a wineskin and a plate of fried potatoes with seasoning on them.

“Please, have some chung,” he said, lifting the beverage to my lips. “Eat, and be merry!”

“And what is chung exactly?”

“You really are from somewhere else, aren’t you?” he asked, laughing. “Chung is what Lhasans call the finest rice wine in the kingdom. The woman I get it from uses the family recipe that has been passed down from generation to generation. Trust me, it’ll warm your stomach and the potatoes will help soak it up. Eat, drink, be merry! I’m counting on you, Nick…” He looked at me curiously. “That was your name, was it not? I’m sorry, it’s a strange name to me.”

“Yes, Nick.”

“I’m counting on you, Nick, this family really needs a demon slayer.”

“I can’t promise anything,” I told him as I took a swig from his wineskin. It was strong, but it did taste good, lightly sweet. I ate a few of the potatoes, happy to have something in my stomach.

“Good, eat up, drink up.”

“Will do.” I went for more potatoes, chewing them slowly, enjoying the strange spice that they were fried with.

As I went to take another swig, Kinley led me toward one of the tents, pushing me inside, laughing as soon as I was in.

Kinley’s nephews had arranged several sheepskin rugs on the ground as well as a couple of blankets, and both of Kinley’s daughters were under the blankets, clearly nude.

“Thank you for saving me,” Karzi said, crawling forward, her blanket falling off her body.

“I…”

“Just relax,” she said as she reached for my belt, unbuckling it and looking at the zipper curiously for a moment.

She called her sister over, who also crawled on her knees over to me, allowing me a pleasant view of the top of her ass.

“It’s called a ‘zipper,’” I told them.

“He must be from Paro,” Kiba said with a giggle.

Rather than let them try to figure it out, I showed them how it worked, unzipping my pants, both of them watching in awe as I worked my magic.

Together, the two pulled my pants off, an erection starting to grow beneath my underwear. I noticed the change in my peripheral vision, the space darkening to some degree…

It seemed apropos in a way, to be transported to a foreign world, nearly killed by a dragon, then some kind of ninja spirit, then a boar, then to slay a demon ghost, only to end the night with sex.

I’d always been the type of person that let reality flow through me rather than try to manage the direction it moved, a personal philosophy that had helped me at times and hindered me at others.

Things started to blur even further.

Can the alcohol really be that strong?

Karzi handed me back to her sister, who steered me forward a bit, patting the sheepskin rug, telling me to get to my knees.

I did as I was instructed, Kiba crouching in front of me. Her sister was by my side now, helping me go in and out, kissing my nipple, running her hand along my body.

I couldn’t even remember taking off my shirt or my jacket, nor did I remember actually getting completely out of my pants.

But here I was, nude, going at it while the other one assisted.

I would have enjoyed it too had things not started to turn even fuzzier, my vision dimming.

I slumped forward, only for one of them to press me back up.

“You can’t stop yet; you have to finish,” she whispered to me. “Finish for us, outsider.”

“What’s wrong with me?” I asked, my speech slurring.

“You have to finish first,” I heard a voice whisper at the back of my head, then at the right, then at the left, spinning around me.

You have to finish first, you have to finish first, you have to finish first.

Kiba banged her head up and down, her dark hair whipping against the rug.

You have to finish first, you have to finish first, you have to finish first.

Everything was murky by this point, and I would have fallen forward too had it not been for Karzi holding me up, guiding my hips in and out.

And that was the last thing I remembered before waking up the next morning, my hands tied behind my back, a gag in my mouth.

The family’s prisoner.

Chapter Six: Slave

I started struggling almost immediately, trying to get to my feet.

I was shirtless and in my boxers, my jeans and the rest of my clothing halfway across the tent. To get to my feet I had to transition to my knees, using my forehead to press myself up, the side of the tent giving me the support I needed to finally stand.

I was livid, and rather than stay in the tent and try to come up with a plan, some way to get out of my current predicament, I moved toward the exit.

“So glad you could join us,” Kinley said, looking up to me. He was gathered around the fire with the rest of his family, the old man, his nephews, and his two daughters, having their breakfast.

I tried to speak, but the gag prevented my words from being coherent.

“Druk, Tandin,” Kinley said, “Tie his feet together and toss him in the back of the cart.”

Rather than respond, I charged headfirst at the young men, trying to get the upper hand. But without my hands I was entirely useless, my balance thrown off as I slipped on the gravel and fell to my side.

Whatever they had poisoned me with was still in my system.

Gone was the enhanced ability I’d experienced last night, replaced by a debilitating grogginess. A fit of anger boiled in my gut as one of the nephews placed his knee on my upper back while the other one tied my ankles together.

And even though I fought it, they eventually got me over to a cart.

I was deposited in the back along with assorted other goods. And that’s right where I stayed for another hour, watching them finish their morning tea, smelling the donkeys at the front of the cart, listening as Kinley’s daughters spoke excitedly about how I’d gone from fucking them to passing out.

What kind of world was this? In what kind of world did a father and his daughters conspire against a stranger using sex as a weapon, a stranger that had saved one of them?

The country I’d come from could be cruel, but I’d never experienced this sort of cruelty, this kind of callousness and disregard for the lives of others. It seemed that a person was truly on their own here in Lhasa, and if I ever got out of this, I would have to constantly be on my guard.

At some point, Kiba came over to the cart and placed her hand on my cheek, softly slapping me.

“Don’t be angry,” the shorthaired woman said, dimples taking shape on her face as she smiled. “You have done so much for my family, from freeing my sister to hopefully impregnating one of us, allowing the next child to join our family to be a demon slayer such as yourself. Now, you will help us buy food for the next couple of months.”

I looked at her with surprise, shaking my head.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, running her hand through my hair, even as I tried to move away from her. “We’re going to Nagchu soon, to the slave traders who work for Madame Mabel. It’s an amazing city, surrounded by beautiful farmland with a large river cutting through the city. Considering you’re an outsider, you should fetch a fair price. And perhaps you will see these friends of yours you’ve been searching for. My father did promise to take you to Nagchu, did he not?”

I tried to kick myself out of the cart but was prevented by a wooden board. Kiba took a step back, a surprised look on her face.

“You will need to learn to behave yourself,” she said, approaching me again, placing her hand on my cheek. “Otherwise, we’ll have to give you some more of the poison. Would you like that?”

I shook my head, furious at her, but also wanting to have my wits about me.

So I was to become a slave now?

Eventually, they would have to cut me free, which would possibly be my only chance to escape. Rather than fight, it was better to be obedient for now, to relax, and just get to the city with this cursed family.

I relaxed some.

Kiba kept her hand on my cheek for a few more moments, stroking her fingers against my skin.

“Too bad we can’t do it again,” she said. “But once should be enough, that’s usually all it takes.”

She waved goodbye as her father and one of the nephews came to the cart to let her know that they would be back in a couple of hours.

Neither said anything to me as they mounted up.

It was a long and bumpy ride to Nagchu, giving me plenty of time to plan how I would make my escape. I imagined myself kneeing Kinley in the face, charging at anyone else who stood in my way as I escaped from the slave traders.

My fantasy didn’t account for the weapons they might have or the density of the city, but it would have to do.

And to think that all of this started because I went to Tom’s bachelor party, even though there was plenty of work to do in Worcester. Tom told me he didn’t mind if I canceled, but we were best friends once, and while we hadn’t really been in touch as much over the last four or five years, it felt good to be invited to something, to be part of a group.

I should have just stayed home.

I heard some commotion in front of us, and I tried to turn to see what was happening. I heard the clank of metal armor, and assumed we’d run into a patrol.

My heart fluttered.

Maybe it was the patrol that had taken Bobby, who had stupidly tried to speak Spanish to them.

If we ever got out of this I would give him shit about that, but for now, all I could do was wait to see what transpired, hoping he was still alive.

Sure enough, men wearing the same medieval armor with lion masks came around the cart alongside Kinley, who motioned his hand toward me as if he had found me on the side of the road.

“He came out of nowhere and attacked us,” Kinley told one of the soldiers.

“He attacked you without his clothing on?”

“No, we took his clothing later, before we tied him up. Luckily, my two nephews were able to take him down.”

I tried to say something, but my mouth was gagged, my throat dry. If looks could kill, both of the men would be dead by now, and I made my feelings known by kicking my knees against the wood in front of me.

“He’s pretty much feral,” Kinley said with a sad shrug. “I’m just glad that he wasn’t able to get to my daughters.”

“What do you think, Sir Evan?” the soldier called over her shoulder.

Sir Evan?

And sure enough, Evan Moede, Tom’s bearded buddy from college that none of us liked, stepped around the back of the cart. He was wearing chainmail now, his head too fat to fit in one of the lion helmets.

I offered him a shocked look.

If he had somehow convinced these people not to take him prisoner, then he could do the same for me. We weren’t pals, but we were all at the same bachelor party together, and we did share the fact that we were Tom’s friends and from the planet Earth, so at least we had one thing in common.

“Do you recognize this man?” the soldier asked him.

“Interesting,” Evan said, turning to me, a smile coming across his face. “I can’t say that I’ve ever seen him in my life.”

I beat my knees against the side of the cart again, grunting as I glared Evan down.

“He may have a disease,” Evan finally said. “Who knows? Where did you find him?”

“He attacked our camp,” Kinley lied. “My daughters, father, nephews and I were just finishing up supper when he barged into our campsite and started fighting people. He tried to…” Kinley shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. He would have raped my daughters if my nephews hadn’t intervened. You can tell. Look at him, look at that anger in his eyes.”

“Perhaps I will say something to him,” Evan said.

I wanted to scream in his face, to tell him that this wasn’t some elaborate role-playing game, that these people were going to sell me into slavery, and that since there was a small group of us who were teleported here, we needed to band together and help each other, not start forming sides with natives.

I tried to shout at Evan, my cries muffled by the gag in my mouth.

The motherfucker…

The portly man approached the cart and bent down, his face just inches away from mine. “We were never too friendly, were we, Nick?” he whispered.

I cried out again, slamming my knee so hard against the back of the cart that it made him step away for a moment.

Eventually, he returned.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, but this is clearly a game that we must play to win, and you seem to already be losing. Too bad you turned out to be a rapey asshole, but I always knew something was wrong with you, even if Tom usually defended your actions. Well, enjoy your trip to the slave traders, Nick. I’ll see you around.”

“Sir Evan?” the soldier asked, stepping up to the bastard.

“Nope, I don’t recognize him,” he said, his hands coming to his fat waist. “But we should continue our patrol. There’s no need to hold these fine people up any longer for this sort of riff-raff.”

Chapter Seven: Lights Out

It was another forty minutes until we reached the outskirts of what I assumed was the city of Nagchu.

The outer rim of the city was defined by its roadside stands as well as its oddity of people, faces I’d never seen before, people with tails and cat ears, a man who resembled a lizard, a dark-skinned woman several heads taller than anyone around with horns jutting from her forehead.

Small buildings made of brick lined the road, the buildings cobbled together, some newer than others. A few of them had fences in front, keeping goats and a few llamas penned in. Most were decorated with lion’s head carvings.

I didn’t get a glimpse of the city itself until we took a sharp left down a hill, the bumpy ride the least of my concerns.

The center of the city was perched on a steep hill, pagodas on the horizon with tiled rooftops, mountains all around. Nagchu was surrounded by farmland, men and women at work in the fields. I noticed the glimmer of a river that cut through the city, which was probably why it was so great for farming.

There was a scent in the air as well, the smell of soil seeming to permeate everything. It was earthy, reminding me of the farm I’d once worked at back in Western Massachusetts.

I knew my way around a farm, and I knew how to live off the land, which would help me if I were able to escape. Maybe I could keep a low profile for a bit while living in the surrounding woods, get my bearings and then figure out if any of the others were alive.

Evan had betrayed me, but that was something I could handle later.

Hopefully, I would be able to find Hugo, that was, if he’d survived fighting the dragon.

And if I was taken prisoner, maybe Bobby had been taken prisoner as well. After all, he’d surrendered to the soldiers, and from what I could tell, I was being sold to the very same person he had surrendered to, a woman named Mabel. The plantation before me had to belong to her.

And if I was lucky, Bobby was already working there.

That left Tom, the poor bastard who had been swallowed up by the sea. There was no telling if he was still alive, but Evan was alive, so maybe Tom had been handed a bit of luck as well.

Hopefully.

Once we stopped, Kinley and his nephew came around and opened up the back of the cart, getting me out. I thought about trying to throw elbows at them, but I didn’t in the end, preparing for whatever lay ahead.

And that was precisely when I saw her.

Standing next to who I assumed was the slave trader, was a woman with fair skin and long dark hair. There was a single blade sheathed at her side. She wore a cape but seemed scantily clad underneath, her armor nonexistent in a way that dared a foe to try something.

I’d known enough hippies in Western Mass to understand what they interpreted as an aura. I never believed those types of things, but seeing this woman now, and noticing the pink that seemed to radiate around her head, made me realize that these things could exist. She was definitely possessed by something.

At least in this world.

There were other slaves of varying races and sizes, and as she scanned through them, the woman’s eyes locked on to me.

I tried to smile at her but there was a gag in my mouth.

She turned away quickly, but I could tell we’d had a moment, I could feel it. And even though I was no fortune teller, I had a feeling that we would meet again.

Her attendants joined her, all women, all dressed in the same way, none of them with the pink glow around their bodies.

They turned away, and it was at about this point that the gag was pulled out of my mouth and I was pushed forward, the slave trader stepping up with a scroll in his hand. There were a pair of thick glasses on the man’s face and his head was shaved, the man leaning most of his weight on a cane.

“And what have we here?” he asked.

“We found him, an outsider,” Kinley explained. “He was provoking spirits in the hills near the Sea of Lhasa.”

“Provoking spirits?”

Kinley nodded. “He also tried to rape one of my daughters.”

“Then he should be taken to the Nagchu Guard, not Madame Mabel’s slave auction.”

“Agreed, but I thought I’d check here first,” Kinley said with a toothy grin. “He’s strong, able-bodied, and he’ll be much more useful to Madame Mabel as a slave than he would as an executed criminal. Besides, I believe he was drunk off chung at the time, or perhaps some lotus.”

“What is your name?” the slave trader asked me.

“I would like to speak to Mabel,” I said, glaring at him.

The slave trader stepped to the side, moving faster than I’d ever seen someone move before. I felt the sting against my cheek, the impact, and I barely caught him lowering his cane as he regained his composure.

“You will not speak to Madame Mabel, not now, not ever,” he growled. The pain radiated through the side of my face, blood dripping onto my chest.

And that’s when it came over me, the same instinct that I had exhibited in the tent with the spirit last night.

Everything slowed down to the point that I could hear a droplet of blood dripping from my chin to my chest. The ropes suddenly felt as if they were made of ribbon, an explosion of energy surging through me as I tore through the bindings on my ankles.

My body started to move before I could tell it what to do, my shoulder coming down and back up as I shifted my weight onto my left foot, sweeping back with my right heel and connecting it with the slave trader’s cheek.

I ripped the ropes from my wrists and brought my fist around, catching Kinley’s nephew in the chin, spinning back around with my other fist and slamming it into Kinley’s throat.

More men charged forward, these ones with spears, and time sped up as they jabbed them at me, as I performed a sideways flip to avoid their attacks.

I took one down with a clothesline, time slowing as I moved behind the other, delivering a chop to the back of his head that sent him sprawling to the ground. 

Time returned to its normal pace again, all the slaves gasping, the slave trader trying to get to his feet.

She came for me.

The beautiful woman I’d seen earlier appeared out of nowhere, moving into an attack position with her jagged blade drawn, slicing it forward and sending a burst of rippling pink energy in my direction that cut me off my feet.

She was on top of me in a matter of moments, a knee on my chest, her blade to my throat.

“What’s your name, slave?”

“Nick Barnette, and I’m nobody’s goddamn slave.”

Her eyes twitched as she processed the way I’d spoken to her.

“What’s your name?” I asked in the time it took her to hesitate.

“Sona, and it doesn’t matter.”

“Hello, Sona.”

“You will never address me by my name again.”

I tried to move out from under her, but she pressed her knee down even harder, her eyes narrowing on me. “You possess the Power?” she whispered as more guards came to her, including her female attendants, all with weapons drawn.

“Come again?”

But rather than answer, Sona brought her hand back and slapped the living shit out of me, everything instantly going black.

Chapter Eight: Lights On

“They say you possess the Power,” a man said to me as he cleaned my face with a wet rag.

I blinked my eyes open, startled, immediately trying to move off the bed.

He was casual about my movement, simply lowering the rag. He must have been in his fifties or sixties, his head shaved, silver earrings hanging from his ears.

“Who are you?” I asked him.

“Altan. You?”

“Nick.”

“That’s an odd name,” he said as he placed the rag on a tray, going for a small bowl of bread. “Are you hungry?”

“I can’t remember the last time I ate.” I started reaching for the bread and then hesitated for a moment, giving him a curious look. Why was he being so nice? I had yet to meet someone in this world that was kind.

Was there an ulterior motive?

“It’s just bread,” he said, reading the look on my face. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it while you were knocked out.”

“The woman slapped the living hell out of me, Sona. I think that was her name. Yes, Sona.”

“Then you’re lucky to be alive. She’s the head of Madame Mabel’s elite guard, and a practitioner of a dark path. You’re lucky that was all that she did.”

“Dark path?”

He nodded. “The Path of Possession.”

“Where are we anyway?” I asked, looking around the room. “Is this still Nagchu?”

Candles lit in the four corners of the room, the smell of sage in the air.

“Yes, and you are in the slave quarters,” he said. “This is my room. They put you in here until you woke up.”

“So I’m a slave now?”

Altan smiled. “No, you’re at a charming hotel in Nagchu that just looks and smells like slave quarters.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Eat some bread. The fight will begin soon.”

“Fight?” I asked him as I swiveled around, placing my feet on the floor.

“It’s rare that someone possesses the Power. Before you are officially registered as a slave, you have a chance to prove yourself by joining Madame Mabel’s guard.”

“Why would I want to do anything stupid like that?”

He laughed again, taking a bite of the bread that he had offered me. “You really have a lot to learn about Lhasa, don’t you? Of the three baronesses in the Kingdom of Lhasa, Madame Mabel is perhaps the kindest.”

“She has slaves. What part of that makes her kind?”

“But she doesn’t torture them as much as some of the others do, if at all. Look, Nick, I’m not here to argue with you. I’m here to give you some food so you have some energy for the fight.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. Why would I want to fight for this person?” I glared at the man, a fire burning inside me. “I don’t know where I am; I’ve never heard of any of these people, and to be honest with you, ever since I came to this damn place, everything has been trying to attack me. From the sea dragon to a damn tree. And that’s not to mention the boar, an evil spirit, a family that I helped, and now I’m being told to fight for a person who is planning to enslave me, and clearly doesn’t give two shits about who I am.”

Altan finished a piece of bread and offered me a chunk. “You really should eat something.”

I took it from him, scarfing it down, noticing that it was unlike any bread I’d had before. There was something rejuvenating about it, something that wasn’t as empty as the bread I’d eaten back in Massachusetts.

“Good?”

I nodded.

“And to be honest with you, Nick, you can drop the outsider act with me. There are no outsiders here, unless you come from Paro, Rinpunga, or the Island Kingdoms of Jonang and Tsirang. And while we occasionally get a visitor from Paro, it’s rare to see someone from any of those other places. You aren’t from those places, are you?”

“I’m from Worcester, Massachusetts,” I told him, finishing my piece of bread. I reached my hand forward for another piece and stopped, making sure it was okay. He nodded, offering me the bowl.

“Worcester, Massachusetts?” Altan asked, sounding out the word. “If that isn’t one of the stranger words I’ve ever heard,” he said, laughing jovially. “Well, keep your story then, outsider, but know that you are no different from any of the slaves out there.”

“I was at a bachelor’s party,” I told him with my mouth full, “a portal opened up and it took me here. Now I’m trying to find my friends and get home.”

He looked at me curiously for a moment.

“I’m serious,” I finally told him.

“That sounds like quite the story,” he said. “But you can focus on enhancing and making your story even more interesting once you win the fight.”

“I don’t want to win the fight; I’m not trying to fight anyone. And that’s my actual story.”

“Well, if you don’t win, then you will just be a slave, like me. Except not like me, because I’m in charge of the slaves. But I won’t treat you harshly, as long as you work hard. Can you work hard?”

“I’m not going to become a slave,” I told him.

“You see, that’s the problem. If you are disobedient to me, the guards who are standing outside the door will help you understand how manners work around here. I don’t like threatening people, I’ll be honest with you, Nick, but sometimes a threat is the only way to get my point across. So if I were you, I would go out there and fight better than you’ve ever fought before. Because trust me, it’s a lot better to be one of Madame Mabel’s guards than it is to be one of her slaves. Plus, if you ever want to meet Sona again, well, you’re not going to meet her in the fields.”

“Thanks for the bread,” I told him as I took another piece. “And how did you know I wanted to meet her again?”

“Most men do once they lay eyes on her. Now finish, the fight will begin soon.”

A young girl stood before me, holding a chain attached to the neck of a towering man with cat ears. The man was nearly twice my size, with muscles bulging out of his tunic and a scar on his face that led me to believe he was blind in his right eye.

We were in an open field lit by lanterns that magically floated in the air above us, people seated on either side, hundreds and hundreds of them, enough to overcrowd the stands and take up additional space to the north and south of the main fighting area. Red banners with silhouetted snow lions hung from wooden posts around booths selling chung.

A referee with a reptilian face stood between us, small horns covering his brow.

“Are you ready for the fight to begin?” he hissed in my direction.

“Do I have a choice?”

He smiled, his eyes blinking vertically. “No.”

“Which one is my opponent?” I asked, nodding to the little girl.

She couldn’t have been older than fourteen, with a thick ponytail that was draped over her shoulder, long enough that it reached her waist. She flicked it to her back and narrowed her eyes at me, punching her fists together in front of her body.

“Both,” the referee said.

“That sort of seems unfair considering I’m just one guy.”

I looked my opponent over again, wondering how I was going to do this. The power that I had exhibited twice now seemed to be something beyond me, something that I couldn’t control.

There was a high possibility that the big cat-man would charge me and that would be the end of it.

I didn’t know what the young girl’s role was, or why she held a chain attached to the cat-man’s neck, but I had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Let the fight begin,” the reptilian man said, stepping aside. He raised his fists into the air. As he brought them down, a crack of lightning zipped across the battlefield.

The cat-man roared, and as he did so, the young girl cracked her chain, bringing the cat-man down to his knee, allowing her to mount up.

They charged toward me, the girl on the cat-man’s shoulders, screaming and pointing at me as the towering feline took a lumbering step toward me, a mace now gripped by his tail.

I wasn’t that fast, and the only reason I managed to get out of the way of his mace was because the cat-man tripped over his own feet, falling forward, his mace slapping him in his own back courtesy of gravity and throwing the girl off his shoulders.

“Holy shit…” I whispered, trying to suck down the adrenaline, to get a handle on how I was supposed to deal with these two.

The little girl was back on her feet now, jumping and screaming, pointing at the cat-man, yelling for him to stand as she yanked on her chain, as the crowd roared with laughter.

The impact of the mace against the cat’s back gave me an idea.

I ran toward the weapon, diving for and latching onto its hilt. It was heavy, and rolling back into a standing position wasn’t easy, but I’d somehow pulled it off.

“Come on, activate,” I whispered to myself, hoping that my power would take shape now that I had a weapon. “Come on…”

The cat-man finally got to his feet, helping the little girl back onto his shoulders.

I’d completely ignored the crowd around me, but now that I was a little bit closer to them I could hear the crowd screaming for my death, spitting, slurring, trying to hit me with their mugs of alcohol, whatever the hell it was called.

The cat started to run toward me and I took a batter’s position, both fists shaking as I prepared to knock the living hell out of him.

I would have to swing with an upward trajectory to hopefully get him in the chin, or possibly the throat. If I cut straight into it, I would hit him in the abdomen, which may hurt, but it would leave me vulnerable to one of his claws.

And I was just about to do it too, hit one out of the damn park, when the little girl launched herself off his shoulders while still holding onto the chain.

I tried to swat at her, only for her to whip around me, and pull me face-first into the ground with the chain, the cat-man skidding to a halt in front of me and bringing a knee to the ground, driving his big fists into my back, a throbbing pain echoing through my core.

I was done.

I let go of the mace, both hands wide now as someone dragged me off the field, as I tried to catch my breath, as the crowd booed. And in my haze, I swear that I saw Sona standing there, a scarf covering her mouth, a disappointed look on her face.

“Sona…” I whispered, reaching out to her. “Sona…”

Chapter Nine: Introduction to the Paths

“Wake up, it’s time we start our day,” Altan said to me.

A week had passed since I had my ass handed to me by the girl and her big cat-man.

I had discovered several things over the last week, one of them being that Altan was a kind man, one who promised to tell me more about this power that I may or may not have possessed once I was ready.

The other thing I’d discovered was that there were no answers here or anywhere.

No one knew who I was, what I was, where my friends were, or where I was from for that matter. To them, I was just a new slave who had failed to make it to the ranks of Madame Mabel’s elite guard.

I rolled out of bed and took a bowl of milk from Altan.

It was a spiced milk, one meant to help someone wake up. It sort of reminded me of chai, except for the burning in my throat that seemed to linger after I drank it.

There was bread on the table, raw carrots, and a bowl of boiled quail eggs, which was something Altan served every day for breakfast.

The only way to escape would be to run to the mountains, that had become clear to me over the week, and Altan had already been over the rules of what happened to runaway slaves.

There was no trial, simply death.

And I wasn’t ready to die, which meant that the timing had to be right.

And then there was revenge.

I hadn’t forgotten that Evan had betrayed me, leaving me to the bandits when he could have vouched for me.

Has it really been a week?

The only reason I even knew it had been that long was because I remembered going to bed seven times, the sun setting and rising seven times, so a week, even though it sort of felt like an extended blur.

And some of the haziness came from what we were harvesting.

Madame Mabel’s vast plantations contained a variety of vegetables, some of which I’d never seen before, but Altan and I were in the narcotics zone, harvesting what was essentially opium, but which locals called “lotus.”

Lotus excreted some type of neurochemical when it was consumed, that much I understood, but no matter how careful I was, picking the flowers always caused a small amount to get on my skin, even if I wore long gloves.

I already hated the stuff.

But I did appreciate the fact that it made time fly, even if it caused my thoughts to blur, making me feel lethargic.

“It’s going to be a good night tonight,” Altan said, a smile on his face.

“Why’s that?”

“Members of the elite guard are marrying some of our daughters today; it’s always a time for celebration.”

“Our daughters?” I asked him as I sipped more of the milk.

“Madame Mabel doesn’t want us to have family units; she wants us all to be one large unit, so people have children and those children grow to become slaves, and the more beautiful daughters often get chosen by the elite guard.”

“You didn’t mention that before,” I said, recalling that many of the slaves I’d seen had similar features.

“You never asked.”

“How do they prevent inbreeding?”

“They don’t.”

“Do you…?”

He shook his head. “I do not. Not all of us are like them; some of us seek higher forms of being.”

“You keep mentioning that,” I told him as I made my way over to the table and sat down, going for a piece of bread.

“Yes, but I don’t think you are ready to hear about it,” he said as he sat across from me.

“It has been a week; I haven’t shown you any reason not to tell me.”

“True, and you have proven to be a hard worker, not as hard as some of the slaves who were born here, but you work in a different way, a smarter way.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I told him as I bit into a piece of bread.

“You should. But I guess I keep hinting at it, so I can tell you some of it now. Although it does get a little more complicated than what I’m about to tell you.”

“Naturally.”

“I’m a practitioner of what’s known as the Way of the Immortals,” Altan said, in the way one would make a big confession. He paused, waiting for me to comment.

“I’m sorry, Altan, I really don’t know what that is.”

He chuckled. “You keep saying you’re an outsider, and you keep giving me reasons to believe you. But there’s no such thing as an outsider in Lhasa, everyone is from somewhere.”

“We’ve already been over this,” I started to tell him.

“I know, you claim to be from Massachusetts, and for some reason, no one, including the elders, have heard of a place called Massachusetts.”

“You asked them?”

“Of course I did.”

“I’m flattered.”

Altan smiled. “Don’t be.”

“Go on, you were telling me about being a practitioner of the Way of the Immortals.”

“Yes,” he said, tearing apart his piece of bread. “It is an ancient art, and while some of the older generations practice it, many continually fail at adhering to its various paths. You would be surprised how watered-down a path to enlightenment can become once it is exploited by those in power.”

“Yes, I’ve seen similar things.”

“I’m sure you have, in Massachusetts,” he said, slowly eating a piece of his bread.

“It’s common everywhere in my world.”

“There are various paths, but the path I have chosen, which is likely the most orthodox, is known as the Path of the Divine. There are various stages, from Broken Sword to Spineless Book, but I haven’t made it past the novice level, Broken Sword.”

“Why?” I asked, feeling the suffering behind Altan’s eyes. It was clear to me that this meant a great deal to him, and not reaching a higher stage had affected his life.

I don’t know how I sensed all that in that brief look that he gave me, but I did, and all I could do was bite my lip and nod, letting him continue.

“Because of all of this,” he finally said, waving his hand around the room. While there was a proper quarter for slaves, Altan had volunteered his own home, saying that I needed some help after my terrible defeat.

“The plantation?”

He nodded. “I was born a slave and worked my way up to what I am now, an overseer of slaves with my own home, but a slave nonetheless.” Altan lowered his voice. “Please don’t take this as me complaining; I’m content with what I am.”

“Of all the people here, it’s not going to be me who rats you out.”

It was on the tip of my tongue now, asking Altan to help me escape. But I held back. Maybe one day I would ask him, but it was better that he trusted me for the time being, and that I understood more about this world before I took that sort of risk.

“I didn’t think so, after all, you’re from Massachusetts.”

I smiled at him, appreciating that he was trying to humor me even though it was clear he didn’t believe what I was telling him, that I was truly from a different world. And who could blame him?

“This is my karma,” he finally said. “I didn’t cultivate enough in a previous life, and now I am a slave. So I’m trying to cultivate it in this lifetime.”

“By doing things like bringing me in, correct?”

“I consider this a karmic boon, so sure. But to be clear, I brought you in because I truly believed that you need help, and the people who saw you attack the slave trader said that you have the Power. I want to see it for myself.”

“But I already lost the fight,” I told him.

“You don’t know how to cultivate the Power, so it makes sense you would lose the fight. Sona, and any of Madame Mabel’s guard, don’t appreciate how the Power can be cultivated. Their abilities were practically handed to them.”

“Okay,” I said. “Well, if you ask me, I don’t believe you’re here because of karma; I believe you’re here because this world has a system of slavery that seems to be pretty terrible, at least from what I have seen.”

“One day I will advance upon the Path of the Divine, and move up to the next level, Wheel with a Rusty Axle, and I’ll move past this place. If not this lifetime, then the next.”

“That’s what it’s called?” I asked him. “Wheel with a Rusty Axle?”

He laughed. “It’s not the strangest name for one of the stages, you know. An even stranger one would be the teacher stage, which is known as Wolf Stalking a Lantern, or possibly the master stage, Hollow Peacock.”

“What are all the stages?”

“Well, the novice stage is known as Broken Sword. The next stage, the cultivator stage, is known as Wheel with a Rusty Axle. Then there is the advanced student, Ink in the Sea. A teacher, Wolf Stalking a Lantern. This is followed by a master, or Hollow Peacock, then a divine master, or Spineless Book.”

“Strange names.”

“They are meant to be humbling, to remind the practitioner that being humble generates good karma. The final stage is a reborn student, known as a Golden One. It is called this because the student has been reborn by choice and must restart all the stages. But that’s enough for now,” Altan said, standing, wiping his hands. “I feel as if I’ve said too much.”

“No, it’s fine, your secret is safe with me.”

“It doesn’t matter if it is or not; no one would believe that I told you these things. Besides, the Way of the Immortals isn’t illegal here on the plantation, at least not anymore. That’s another advantage of the rank I have achieved here. No one will believe that I said something like this, especially if it was coming from an outsider like you. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Now come, we need to start the harvest. We’ll have to check the drying buds later, to see how many are ready for tonight. Chung will flow freely, and there will be fresh lotus for anyone interested.”

“Sounds like a real party.”

“That it is,” he said with a chuckle. “But if I were you, Nick, I would enjoy tonight, because it is one of two celebrations we get per year. Expect debauchery, fighting, sex, anything you can imagine. But may I make a suggestion?”

“Please do.”

“I don’t quite understand how you have come to possess the Power, something that I myself do not possess even if I’ve gone through the initial stages of cultivating it.”

“I told you before, I don’t really know what it is, and it just comes over me. Who knows if it’s actually this ‘Power’ you keep referring to.”

Altan waved my statement away. “Well, just in case it is, I would suggest staying along the path of the pious, and avoiding the loose lips and loose fists that these marrying parties usually kick up. Just my advice.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I told him as I ate another piece of bread.

“Good. I’ll meet you outside in five minutes.”

I watched him step away from the table, a calm look on his face.

Altan was a good man, and it was too bad that we were going to have to part ways soon.

Chapter Ten: Dark Hazel Blur

The chung flowed freely.

There was a literal fountain of it, people dipping mugs made of ram horns into the brew, toasting, singing, pulling each other away from the fountain to speak privately.

All the daughters that were of age were on a raised platform, their siblings beneath them, waving at their sisters.

I stood at the back of the crowd, observing, waiting for everyone to get good and wasted before I made my move.

I held a mug of chung just to blend in, casually sipping on it, staying as far away from the lotus as I could. The stuff wasn’t unlike the opioid epidemic that had swept through New England, wasting lives, crushing dreams, making the time pass.

I could see it here, in some of the revelers’ eyes, the haunting sorrow of addiction.

I recalled Altan pointing at one of the infirmaries not far from the slave camp, telling me that was where many of them went to recover, and truth be told, to die. As slaves, we were forbidden to use lotus, aside from celebrations such as this.

And as often happened when drugs were handed out for free, most of the slaves were using.

The lotus was set up across from the fountain of chung on a variety of tables raised about ten inches above the ground, allowing a person to smoke it, snort it, eat it or rub some onto their skin. Topless slave women sat around the lotus tables, kissing at the encouragement of the men, letting the men suck their nipples.

It was an odd thing to witness, but I was starting to get used to seeing things that made no sense in Lhasa. And oddly enough, I was feeling clear at the moment, likely because we’d only worked a half-day and the chemicals from the lotus hadn’t seeped into my skin.

I wore slave clothes now, a loose tunic and baggy pants with deep pockets. I had some bread stuffed in one pocket, diced carrots in the other. This would at least give me some food after I made my move, giving me time to figure out my next step.

And I was just about to set my mug down when a masked woman with white hair approached me, placing a hand on my cheek.

“Hello,” I told her.

The woman brought her hand back and slapped me, looking at me over her shoulder as she walked away.

“See you by the big tent,” I heard her say, or at least I thought she said this before she disappeared back into the crowd.

Many of the women wore masks, that or scarves covering the bottom halves of their faces like Sona had on when she punched me.

There was something instantly mysterious about the way the Lhasan women covered up, even if some of their goods were on display, and a few were a little more aggressive, like the one who had slapped me.

Figuring it wouldn’t hurt, I finished the rest of my chung, which was bitter, but strong enough to warm my gut.

Aside from the party, it was a calm night, reminding me of a late summer evening. Under normal circumstances, I would have enjoyed a night like this, but I really wasn’t able to appreciate it.

It was time to act.

Checking for Altan, I began to back away, toward a large tent that had been erected for the main ceremonies. I slipped around the side of the big tent to find a guard standing there, his eyes instantly narrowing at me.

“Leaving the party early, eh?” he asked.

“It isn’t really my scene,” I told him.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” I said, taking a step back. He was only one guard, but he did have a sword, and while I might have made it around him, I would risk losing a leg in doing so.

Rather than stick around any longer, I began to turn away from the man, just as a dagger pressed through the front of his throat. The guard took a step forward, choking on his own blood, and fell face-first onto the ground.

I dropped onto my belly as dozens of armed men descended upon the wedding party. One came close enough to me that he almost stepped on my hand, the man completely focused on getting to the main event, not noticing that I was still alive.

And once he was gone, once I saw that I was in the clear, I crawled over to the man who had just been stabbed in the neck, trying to pull his sword from its sheathe.

I decided to go with his dagger instead, realizing that something as large as a sword would get in my way.

But it could also be useful…

I managed to get the dagger out of his neck, still debating as the fight broke out behind me as to what I should do with the sword.

The truth was, I’d never even held a sword, aside from a wooden one, but I figured it would be worth a shot, so I tried to turn the man over and unsheathed his weapon, now straddling him.

And just as I managed to get the sword out another man tackled me, or maybe it was one of the attacking soldiers, I really couldn’t tell in the dark.

All I knew was that the man was groaning a few seconds later, that I had instinctively driven the blade through his stomach, fatally injuring him.

My first kill…

This thought resonated inside me for a moment as I staggered to my feet, bloodied sword in one hand, dagger in the other.

I almost bolted for the mountains and even took a few steps away from both the bodies before I decided to stop, returning to the soldier who had been stabbed in the throat, working as quickly as I could to unbuckle his sheath.

I tried not to look at the man that I’d personally stabbed, tuned out the sounds of agony behind me, the terrible shadows appearing once some of the fires were put out, the clank of blades, women screaming, utter pandemonium.

I got the sheath and its belt around my waist, buckled it shut and stabbed the sword in, keeping the dagger in my hand as I ran as fast as I could, the larger blade beating against my leg.

My first kill…

I would unpack it later.

I would unpack all of this later.

The most important thing I could do now was focus on the path before me, keep my footing and somehow make it out of the slave plantation alive.

I had never run so fast in my life.

I barely noticed the strain in my calf muscles, the weight of the sword at my side, the calamity behind me as I ran through a field, lotus plants whipping at me, the sound of a barking dog not far off.

I knew that they patrolled these fields with dogs, and my hope to slip past them was crushed when one of the canines leaped for me, sinking his teeth into my arm.

It growled as its teeth sank deeper into my arm. I drove my dagger into its side, and the dog instantly let go.

I pressed forward, nursing my arm, now bleeding profusely.

Faster…

Faster…

My injured arm grazed against a few of the lotus plants.

I started to feel the intoxication almost immediately, and for once I was glad to be under the spell of the narcotic. It allowed me to ignore the pain I was experiencing in my sides as I gasped for breath, as my heart thrummed in my chest.

Another dog came for me.

Everything slowed down as soon as its feet left the ground.

It was as if the dog was frozen in the air, a trail of spittle spiraling out of its mouth, its rage-filled eyes reflecting the moonlight. I stepped around the creature and took a step forward as if I were going to run again.

I had to get away.

Time sped up again and I was at the far end of the lotus field now, the dogs barking somewhere behind me.

The Power… I thought as I crossed a dirt road, passing a shack with a single light on inside.

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 whisper 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 walked 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.

“Okay,” I whispered to him, both of us watching the path in front of us.

It took another few minutes, but eventually, a group of warriors came through, walking in the opposite direction that we had been going.

Their armor was heavy, and from what I could see of them, which was very little, they were armed to the teeth. Roger took off, and for a moment I thought he’d left me stranded there, and anger swelled inside me at the thought that I’d been duped in the Kingdom of Lhasa yet again.

But he quickly returned, landing by my side and letting me know that there were nine men, and to give it another couple of minutes before we continued on our way.

So that’s what I did, waiting quietly for the armed men to pass. Once we were both sure they were gone, I got back on the trail with him.

“Any idea who they were?”

“They could be bandits, or a small armed militia. Or they’re treasure hunters,” Roger said.

“Treasure hunters?”

“The monastery I’m taking you to isn’t the only one around. There are dozens of them in these mountains, all dedicated to different interpretations of the Way of the Immortals. And these monasteries often hold treasures and precious objects.”

“I see. And by ‘different interpretations,’ you mean different paths to take, right? A guy I knew back there, in Nagchu, told me a little bit about that stuff.”

“He probably told you about the Path of the Divine, which is one of the more popular ways to practice.”

“Yeah, I think that’s what he said,” I told the bird, recalling what Altan had explained to me. “He had some name for what level he’d reached as well, but he told me he was just a novice.”

“As are most.” Roger lowered onto my shoulder. “You don’t mind if I sit here for a moment, do you?”

“You can hang out on my shoulder as much as you’d like, as long as you don’t shit on me.”

Roger made a sound with his throat. “What kind of bird do you take me for?”

“A well-mannered one, that’s for sure.”

“Without manners, what separates us from the other beasts?” he asked. “Anyway, back to the Way of the Immortals and its various paths. To be frank with you, I don’t really believe in the Way,” the tropical bird confessed, “but I do believe in reincarnation. There’s a very good chance that if I do the right thing, I’ll be born in the body of a human such as yourself. If I’m lucky, I may even be born into the Overworld.”

“So you’re helping me for karmic reasons?”

“Heavens, no, I’m helping you so I can get your dagger,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m quite serious about acquiring that weapon, and I’ll be most unhappy if you turn your back on me at the last moment. You wouldn’t do something like that to a helpless little bird like me, would you?”

“For some reason, I don’t think you’re that helpless. The blade is yours.”

“Good, good.” Roger cleared his throat. “Now, you asked me to tell you more about the religion of the land. Aside from the reincarnation aspects—which I’ve read about in several of the texts written by the famous hermit practitioners—I’m by no means an expert. But I can at least explain a few of the various paths to you.”

“Just a little more information would go a long way.”

“Perhaps you could give me another piece of that bread of yours, I would like that.”

“Sure.” I reached into my pocket and tore off a piece, holding it over my shoulder as I walked, Roger taking it from me.

“It’s good bread, Nick; slaves know how to make the best bread.”

“The Way of the Immortals is the text, right?” I asked him after he finished his bread.

“It is a combination of texts and oral transmission, just a straightforward way to condense it all into one body of work. It is truly numerous, with new writings and treatises coming out all the time. Now, there are secret paths, and no, I don’t know anything about them. But they do exist.”

“Okay.”

“The most popular interpretation, as you’ve already heard, is the Path of the Divine. It is a middle road approach to enlightenment and immortality. It isn’t that different from the Path of Cultivation, which focuses on moving energy from an early age, treating one’s body as a garden.”

“So the Path of Cultivation isn’t as interested in immortality, or enlightenment?”

“All the paths are interested in immortality and enlightenment; they just frame things differently. I mentioned the Path of the Divine along with the Path of Cultivation because they share similar aspects. A lower impact, middle of the road approach.”

“I see,” I told him as we ducked under a tree with low hanging branches, the limbs covered in moss.

“There’s also the Path of Sudden Enlightenment, but finding a beneficiary of this path is rare. It is generally unknown how information can be transferred this way because most of the knowledge of this path has been lost, or stolen,” he said. “I would say this one is somewhat related to the Path of Possession, which is how some of the more powerful practitioners have gained their power.”

“How’s that?”

“By killing someone at a higher level,” Roger said, “and absorbing their abilities. The Path of Possession has been exploited, most notably by the plantation owners and their noble guards, if you could call them noble.”

I thought of Sona for a moment and the powers that she exhibited. Had she killed someone to gain them? While I knew it was entirely possible, part of me thought that this couldn’t be true, that there was something different about her.

But I was probably just holding on to something, latching on to a notion that wasn’t based in reality.

“Let’s see, which one am I missing?” Roger asked himself, tightening his grip on my shoulder. “Divine, Cultivation, Sudden Enlightenment, Possession. Oh, that’s right. The Path of Divine Madness. This is one of the stranger paths, one that not much is known about. To start on it, you must have practiced one of the others and reached certain stages already to realize what it means to be divinely mad.”

“As in crazy, or angry? ‘Mad’ can mean both things.”

“Crazy. Not many have gone down this path, but those that have usually are outcasts of society, people who have studied the Way of the Immortals and discovered its flaws; people who are on the verge of transcending the system in the first place. Anyway, that’s all I know about it. These various paths are all acknowledged in the body of work that is the Way of the Immortals. The only part I believe in is the karma part.”

“Which is why you’re helping me.”

“I’m helping you because I want that dagger.”

I laughed. “You’re my kind of people, Roger.”

“I’m a bird.”

Chapter Twelve: Refuge

“Well, this is it,” Roger said, once we reached the monastery. “Do you still want me to take those steps with you?”

“I’ve got it figured out from here,” I told him, looking up toward the entrance. The steps were lined with statues of snow lions, each with a different face, blue prayer flags strung between them forming a makeshift railing.

“Ahem,” Roger said, landing on one of the lion statues, his turquoise feathers flattening.

“Right, you want this dagger.”

He glanced away from me, no longer able to make eye contact with me. “Let me guess, you aren’t going to give it to me, are you?”

I’d never seen a bird with an apprehensive look on his face, but then again, I’d never spoken to a bird either. And I felt for Roger in that moment; I could tell that he had been tricked by someone before.

“I always keep my word,” I told him, taking my only weapon out of the sheath. “It’s yours.”

I set the blade on the first step of the temple in an almost symbolic gesture.

“You’re really going to give it to me?” he asked, fluttering down to the blade. Roger looked up at me.

“That was our agreement.”

“You know, if I ever see those friends of yours, the ones that you lost, I’ll let them know that I met you. What were their names again?”

“Bobby, Hugo, and Tom.”

Roger nodded. “Bobby was the schoolteacher; Hugo was the soldier; and Tom was the guy that was supposed to get married, but who got dropped into the Sea of Lhasa. Did I get all that right?”

“You sure did.” I started to turn away and stopped. “If you see a guy named Evan, be sure to peck his eyes out.”

“That’s the one that betrayed you, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“I can’t promise anything, but now that I have this dagger, maybe I’ll be able to stab him in the heart if I see him.” Roger wrapped his talons around a leather cord looped through the hilt of the blade.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to lift that?”

Rather than answer me, he started flapping his wings, raising the dagger into the air. “It’s been nice knowing you, Nick.”

“Same, Roger.”

“I can’t wait to tell some of my bird friends the name you’ve given me. I may use it from now on. It sounds better than my own name.”

“Glad to hear,” I said as he took off.

“Farewell, Nick.”

“See you, Roger.”

I watched him fly down the steps, the glint of the dagger following behind the friendly bird. Once I could no longer see him, I started up the stairs, my stomach grumbling.

We had walked for hours, exhausting our food supply, and I knew that I was totally at the mercy of the monks in this temple.

After another ten minutes of walking up steps, I reached an enormous wooden door, four or five times my height.

I was just about to knock when I noticed the smaller door to the right, this one with a cover over it that resembled the face of a dragon. I went to the smaller door instead and checked the handle, letting myself in.

There was an ancient smell to the place, one of incense and cold stone.

I passed through a vestibule into what I assumed was the main prayer room, a seated deity at the front, the light coming in from a stained-glass window that had been worked into the mural on the ceiling. Several monks sat before the main deity, but it was the man who faced them, the clear leader of the monastery, who saw me first.

“May I help you?” he asked, looking up from a large book.

The man was incredibly old, the wrinkles on his face pulling at his jowls. His head was shaved aside from a long ponytail at the back, which was braided and draped over his shoulder. The man was hunched forward, his back permanently misaligned from poring over religious texts.

I cleared my throat, noticing the echo of the sound in the chamber. “I’m an outsider.”

“Clearly,” the older monk said, to the soft laughter of the monks seated before him.

“I come here seeking refuge,” I told him. “I was told by a… dakini? Am I saying that word correctly?”

The older monk shut his leather-bound tome, kicking up a cloud of dust. “A dakini spoke to you?”

“Yes, and she told me to come to a monastery, and I just so happened to find this one.”

“There hasn’t been a dakini in these parts for decades.”

“To be honest with you, I don’t even know what a dakini is aside from a guardian angel, or something similar. I was just trying to escape.”

“Escape?”

I nodded, taking another step forward. “As you’ve already noticed, I’m not from here. I’m from a different world, and as soon as I came here I was attacked by a bunch of things, I slew an evil spirit apparently, and then I was sold off as a slave, and escaped to the mountains. I’m giving you the abridged version here, and normally I wouldn’t be this forthcoming with what has happened to me, but I figured someone here would…”

The older monk took a deep breath. “I suppose we’ll have to start the trials.”

I gave him a funny look. “Did you say trials?”

“Well, if you are who you say you are, we have to test it.” The old monk started coughing, and once he finished he continued: “But it’s too late to begin the trial now. I will have Lhandon show you to a room where you can rest for the night.”

“Is there any chance I can get some food?”

The old monk scoffed at my request. “The kitchen is closed for the evening. Lhandon?”

“Yes, Exonerated One?” a chubby monk asked. He sat at the back of the group, and he happened to be the only one looking over his shoulder at me when he was called upon.

“See our guest to one of the empty chambers.”

“As you wish, Exonerated One.”

“You said you were an outsider,” the hefty monk said after we’d left the main prayer room. His weight made it so he had to waddle some, the only monk in the room that was obese. “Where were you from, again?”

“You haven’t heard of where I’m from.”

“I don’t know,” he said as we walked down a narrow corridor, candles lighting the way. “I am well-versed in the Kingdom of Lhasa, its cities, and the other Kingdoms as well, including the Island Kingdoms of Jonang and Tsirang. I find those most fascinating.”

“What was your name again?”

“Lhandon. And yours?”

“Nick.”

“I’ve never heard a name like that before.”

“People keep telling me that. Ever heard of Massachusetts?”

The portly monk attempted to pronounce the word and gave up. “What a strange name for a city. The first part is easy to pronounce, the second part is very odd on the tongue. Don’t you agree?”

“It isn’t a city, it is a state. I live in a city called Worcester, which is spelled differently than it sounds.”

“Worcester, huh? A fascinating word as well.”

We came to a set of stairs. Grunting, Lhandon took the steps slowly, nodding as he did so. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said under his breath.

“What’s that?”

“That I’m fat.”

“That’s the least of my concerns.”

“Really? Because by now, people usually have commented on it.” He stopped, turning to me. “So go ahead, get it out of your system.”

“I’m not here to fat shame you,” I told him.

“Fat shame…” He smoothed his hand over his bald head, adjusting the small ponytail he had at the back of the skull. “I can’t say I have heard those two words used together before, but they make sense. That’s what people do to me, they fat shame me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Lhandon.”

“Well, it’s not your fault, obviously.”

“Doesn’t matter; no one likes to be teased.”

“I’m used to it by now,” he said as he continued up the stairs. Once we reached the next floor, he headed off to the right, his finger in the air as he counted rooms. “It should be around here; I cleaned the room a couple of weeks ago.”

“I know that he said that there was no food, but would it be possible to get a bite to eat? I’ve been walking all day and I’m very hungry.”

“I…” Lhandon stopped, biting his lip for a moment as he turned to me again. “I might be able to help you out. But the Exonerated One doesn’t like it when any of the monks disobey his orders.”

“I won’t tell him.”

“That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know what’s going on in his monastery.”

“The Exonerated One, huh? Strange title.”

Lhandon nodded. “His full title is Boldoh the Exonerated One, and he’s called this because he killed his brother in a land dispute over a hundred and twenty years ago.”

“He’s over a hundred years old?”

“He’s close to one hundred and fifty years old,” Lhandon explained. “He has practiced the Way of the Immortals since then and has increased the longevity of his life. That’s how he got his name, actually. He was imprisoned after killing his sibling and dedicated nearly a decade to studying the text. Eventually, he started helping other prisoners find the way, teaching them the Path of the Divine. Once he was released, he begged his way across the kingdom, cobbling together enough money to build this monastery, and in doing so he was given this name.”

“Interesting,” I said as Lhandon continued down the hallway, stopping in front of a room on the left.

“This is it.” He reached into the front of his robes and pulling out a key ring. It took him a moment, but he eventually found the key to the door.

“I will return in a moment with food, but remember, this is between you and me.”

“My lips are sealed.”

I stepped into the dark room, immediately feeling the urge to sneeze.

It was dusty and bare, just a bed and a table with a candle on it. While Lhandon went to raid the kitchen, I carefully took the candle to one burning in the hallway, bringing it back into the room once it was lit, an orange glow illuminating the space.

I looked up at the ceiling to see that it was black with wax stains on it from years of burning tall candles. After a deep exhale, I sat down on the bed and took off my sandals, wincing at the blisters on my feet.

Massaging them, I noticed that I had a few bumps as well.

“I managed to procure an apple, a piece of jerky and a slice of bread,” Lhandon said as he returned, the large man sucking in deep breaths.

“I can’t thank you enough,” I told him.

“It’s fine, and you came here from…?”

“Nagchu,” I told him.

“Ah, yes, the city under Madame Mabel’s control. And you said you were a slave there, correct?”

“Only for about a week,” I told him as I tore into the bread.

“I see. I am from Bamda, which is quite far from Nagchu.”

“That’s another city, right?”

“Yes, a smuggler city controlled by Madame Blanche, one that is rumored to have been built upon ancient temple grounds. Heard of the Cape of Thupten?”

“No.”

He looked at me curiously for a moment. “It isn’t far from Bamda, if you know the quick way around Mount Dolma. They say that there are waves of dark energy that pass over the place, which is why the families there donate their youngest son or daughter to the monasteries. And that’s how I ended up here.”

“How many cities are there in Lhasa?”

“That’s an odd question, but sure, let me think. There are little villages scattered about, but the main cities are Nagchu, Bamda, Sarpang, Mongar, the Forbidden City of Trongsa, and Gewog. So six.”

“The Forbidden City?”

“Yes, this one is where the cat people hail from. It’s not forbidden any longer, mostly because the cat people have branched out into other cities and brought people from around Lhasa back to their homes, but the name has stuck.”

“And this is just one country, right?”

“You mean the Kingdom of Lhasa?”

“Yes, is it just one large country with several parts? I’ve heard of other kingdoms as well.”

“People just refer to it as the Kingdom of Lhasa. It is by no means a unified country. There are various territories, usually controlled by the madames. Nagchu and its surrounding areas, including these mountains, are controlled by Madame Mabel. Madame Blanche controls Bamda, where I’m from, and its surrounding areas including Gewog. Madame Darwina controls Mongar, a mountain city that also contains a portion of Cultivation Hills. Sarpang and the Forbidden City of Trongsa are independent municipalities. The druk, or dragon people come from Sarpang, and the cat people from Trongsa, as I just told you.”

“And the other kingdoms?”

“I don’t know as much about them. The Kingdoms of Paro and Rinpungpa are very far away, and the Island Kingdoms of Jonang and Tsirang are only reachable by boat. I don’t know if they have a similar system to what we have here.”

“And the madames? Why are all the leaders female?”

“Ah, now that’s an interesting question. Mabel is the only one who has been a ruler since she was a teenager. The other areas were once run by men, but they killed each other in a war about five years ago, leaving their estates to Madame Blanche and Darwina.”

“Good to know.”

“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, pointing to a place on the floor in front of me.

“By all means.”

I started chewing the jerky, happy to have some protein. “Any idea what kind of trials the, um, Exonerated One is going to put me through tomorrow?”

“What kind of trials…” Lhandon sneezed, wiping his nose with his robe, only to realize that this looked impolite. He apologized and cleared his throat. “Well, you say that you have some sort of power to kill evil spirits, so I suppose he will test that.”

“He didn’t really ask many questions about it, which leads me to wonder why he just believed what a stranger coming into the monastery told him.”

“Why would he not believe you?”

“Are you serious?” I asked Lhandon. “You said that he was a prisoner, and that he has been alive for well over a hundred years.”

“Over a hundred and fifty years,” he corrected me.

“And he hasn’t encountered someone lying to him?”

“If he assumes you are lying to him, it’s bad karma on your part. You’ve come here seeking refuge, and you have a compelling story. So rather than immediately attack what you are claiming, he has chosen to test it instead.”

“What kind of trials?”

“How much do you know about the Path of the Divine?”

“I only know what a…” I swallowed the lump of jerky in my throat. “I only know what a bird told me. Actually, a bird and a slave.”

“You spoke to a bird?” Lhandon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I did, or, he mostly spoke to me. He explained to me on the way over here.”

“I see,” said the chubby monk, running his hand along his chin line. “The animals are speaking to you, then.”

“None of the other ones have, just this bird. I named him Roger.”

“A strange name for a bird, but you have a strange name yourself, so that makes sense to me.” He smiled up at me. “Well, you’ve come to this monastery, which means you are interested in the Path of the Divine.”

“Actually, I’m interested in finding my friends, and the dakini pointed me in the direction of this monastery.”

“It sounds like a being from a different plane guided you here, and she apparently wants you to start the Path.”

“I don’t know if that’s exactly what I’m looking to do,” I told him. “I was with my friends when a portal opened up, and that portal brought me here. And ever since then, crazy things have been happening to me. I seriously just want to get back to my friends, and figure a way out of here.”

“A portal?”

I explained to him everything that had happened since Tom’s bachelor party, from the power I exhibited, to the fight I’d had with the big cat-man and the little girl. Lhandon rarely interrupted, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was hanging on every single word that I said, that he believed me.

“I believe there’s prophecy about this,” he said once I finished. “But you’ll have to be tested first.”

“We keep coming back to that, and that’s what I’m asking about: what kind of trials?”

“All novices that take up the Path of the Divine are checked by a higher monk. He will test your abilities, your knowledge of runes, and he may even ask you to fight him.”

“Fighting monks? Is that what you’re telling me here? Because that’s not something that monks do in my world…”

“You have said it yourself, this isn’t your world,” Lhandon told me. “You mentioned this power of yours in the story you just told me, this ability to do things that are superhuman. That to me sounds like something that would need to be tested.”

“As I told you, I can’t control it. The power only comes out at certain times. It has only appeared a few times, and not necessarily when I needed it.”

“Don’t you understand?” he asked, smiling at me.

“No, I don’t.”

“If you cultivate your inner being through the Path of the Divine, you will be able to harness and use this power. Have you ever seen someone else use a power like this?”

I thought of Sona, and the way she had moved. “Yes, one of Madame Mabel’s guards, a female.”

Lhandon nodded, but the way he nodded told me that he didn’t quite agree with this answer. “You’ve witnessed the Power through the Path of Possession. That’s how the leader of Madame Mabel’s elite guard got her power, by killing another. We don’t practice that here.”

“You asked me if I had seen this type of power in use before, and I answered your question.”

“Good, because the Exonerated One will send you away if you ask about this path.”

“I don’t plan to ask about it,” I said as I bit into my apple. “I would just like some answers, and really, I would like to find my friends. I believe that there are at least two of them that are alive, well, three, but the third isn’t my friend.”

“And the fourth you believe to be dead?”

“I mean, there was a sea dragon, and he was never really a survivalist, so yes, I believe Tom is dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lhandon looked like he was about to say something, to offer his help in some way, but then he stopped, looking away from me. “We’ll see how the trials go tomorrow, and what the Exonerated One recommends to cultivate your ability.”

“You mentioned something about a rune trial, right?”

“I did.”

“See that’s the thing, I don’t understand the written language here. I’ve only seen a little bit of it, and it makes no sense to me.”

“You are illiterate?”

“For some reason, we speak the same language,” I told him. “And trust me, this is something I’ve thought about over the last week. While I can understand you, I can’t read the script here.”

“That may be a problem.” Lhandon got to his feet, dusting off his rear. Once he realized that this was possibly improper, he apologized to me, bowing his head. “After the tests are performed, we’ll know more about what you’re capable of and possibly have better advice for you. But I’m just a practitioner, a novice, a Broken Sword. Please keep that in mind, and understand that I may not have the answers that you seek. But I’m always willing to help.”

“Thanks again,” I told the man as he stepped out of the room. “Especially for the food.”

Chapter Thirteen: Penmanship in the Courtyard

I definitely had some strange dreams in the monastery.

I dreamt that I had risen out of my own body, sitting on the edge of my bed as a ghostly woman came to me. She was instantly familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why, and it was only after I woke up in the morning that I realized that she was Dema, my dakini.

The sound of chanting met my ears, the ringing of bells, everything peaceful for a moment as I waited for a response from my guardian angel.

I didn’t get one.

At least I felt well-rested, and once I was out of bed, I saw that the blisters on my feet had healed some.

Something was different about my healing capability here in Lhasa.

There had been huge blisters on my feet last night, red bumps too from what looked like insect bites, and now everything was gone. I wasn’t experiencing any pain either, no cramp in my lower back from walking for so long in poorly made shoes, no indication that I’d taken such a long trek the previous day.

Odd.

A knock at the door startled me.

“Breakfast,” Lhandon said, his tone indicating that he wasn’t allowed to stick around and chat.

“I appreciate it,” I said as I took the tray from him. Several small eggs, a piece of bread and a boiled potato—it was good enough for me, and once I was done eating, I heard another knock at the door.

“The Exonerated One will see you now,” Lhandon said, an indecipherable look on his face.

“Did you wait out in the hallway for me to eat?”

“I did.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked as we made our way down the hallway.

“We just have to be more formal,” he said as we took another flight down, coming to a door that led out onto a courtyard.

The space was well-kept, a few small cracks in the stone, everything swept and tidy. There were flowering trees arranged in a grid-like pattern at the back of the courtyard, plump apples hanging from their limbs, a blue sky overhead.

The Exonerated One stood at the center of the courtyard, the monks forming two lines in front of him. Lhandon moved to one of the lines, taking his place at the very back.

“Approach,” the Exonerated One said to me. Once I was about halfway to him, he raised his hand to indicate that I should stop.

The elderly monk leaned the rest of his weight on a cane, and while he looked older than any person I’d ever seen before, there was a light behind his eyes that told me he was still sharp.

“Did you rest well?” he asked after a long pause.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to begin?”

I glanced to the monks on my left and my right. “Yes, but first, please explain to me what you actually want me to do. I’d like to know more about the trial.”

“The first part of the trial will be simple,” he said as he hobbled over toward me. “I’m going to call out a rune, and I want you to trace them in the air.”

“I don’t write your language.”

None of the monks laughed, but I did catch a few raised eyebrows out of my peripheral vision.

“You speak the language, but you do not write it?”

“As I told…” I smiled at him, trying not to throw Lhandon under the bus. “As I’ve told other people that I’ve met here in Lhasa, I understand your language for some reason, but I don’t write it. I write my language.”

“Fascinating, and what does your language look like?”

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

The Exonerated One said something and one of the boy monks at the back took off toward the main temple.

His sandals slapped against the pavement as he returned with a small wooden table, which he quickly set before me. The young monk opened up the drawer to pull out a piece of parchment and a small bottle of ink, a quill as well.

“I’ve never written with a quill before,” I told the Exonerated One.

“Do you think you could figure it out?”

“I’m sure I can.”

Once the paper was in place, I dipped the quill in the ink and started to write.

“Fascinating,” the Exonerated One said, peering down at what I had written. He called several of the high-ranking monks over, all of whom took a look at my words.

“What language is this?” one of the monks asked.

“It’s called ‘English,’” I told him. “It says: ‘hi, my name is Nick Barnette. I’m from Massachusetts, which is in a country known as America.’”

“This isn’t a language,” the monk to my left told the Exonerated One.

“I don’t suspect that he would make up a language such as this; the characters are too strange, too thought out,” the elderly monk replied.

“I can assure you, I did not invent the English language. If anything, I have bastardized it.”

“You what?” The Exonerated One started coughing, took a deep breath in, and peered at me again.

“Never mind. Anyway, this is the language that I write, which is why I don’t know anything about your runes.”

“If he has the Power, then he must know a rune,” one of the monks said in a whisper.

“I will handle this,” the Exonerated One said, and as soon as these words left his lips, the monks stepped away, filing back into line. The boy monk, the one who had brought the writing-table, looked to his leader for a cue.

“You may take the table,” he finally said, and the boy stuffed what I’d written inside the drawer and ran off. “Just because you do not know the runes, does not mean that you actually do not know them.”

“It kind of does,” I told him.

A couple of the monks gasped.

“Excuse me?” the Exonerated One asked.

“Not trying to step on your toes here, but you’re basically assuming I know something which I clearly don’t. It would be like if you asked me to speak Chinese. I don’t know how to speak that language.”

“Chinese? What language is this?” he asked.

“Another language that they use in my world.”

“You are in your world,” he reminded me.

“You yourself said I was an outsider, and that’s really what I am. But we don’t have to get into the details of that now. I’m just telling you that if you start calling out runes to me, I won’t know how to write them.”

“I see,” he said, tapping his cane against the ground. “We may as well try. It will let us know how far along the path you are likely to progress.”

“But…”

He nodded, satisfied with the solution he’d come up with. “Come to think of it, it may be better for you to actually physically write the runes, rather than try to cast them. Maybe that will help you remember them.”

“But I don’t know them…”

The Exonerated One ignored what I said as he called for the young monk at the back of the line to fetch the writing-table again.

After a moment of waiting for him to run to the monastery and return, the boy monk placed the table in front of me and prepared the parchment and ink.

“The first one I want you to write is ‘Lha,’” the Exonerated One said.

I took a deep breath in.

“Trust yourself, see if you can look deep inside your soul and pull the rune from it.”

“Pull the rune from my soul? Got it,” I said as I dipped the quill in the ink.

Rather than tell him that this was impossible, I thought about it for a moment, and I was just about to write the sound he had made in English letters when something came over my hand.

Energy guiding the quill, my hand traced a character that looked like a stylized box with a line hanging from it, two curved slash marks the end of the line.

The young monk standing next to me gasped. “You know ‘Lha?’”

“I don’t know what I know,” I told him.

“No speaking,” the Exonerated One chastised the younger monk. The old man took a meandering step closer to me, eyeing what I’d written. “I thought you didn’t know this language?”

“I don’t,” I told him. “I just did what you told me to do.”

“In that case, and just to make sure you are not trying to be clever with me, write ‘Gyal.’”

“I will try,” I told him, looking at the parchment again.

Rather than try to control what I was doing, I simply loosened my grip on the quill, letting my hand take over. Soon I had a symbol that looked like nothing I’d ever seen before.

It was almost like a reverse square root sign with the bottom of the letter Z at the end, a circle beneath the house that was created by the top of the lines.

“He wrote it,” the young monk announced to those in the lineup. “He wrote it!”

There was some chatter until the Exonerated One banged his cane against the stone. “Silence! There will be no speculation,” he told the group, glaring at the young monk. “This is just the beginning of the test; anyone who has seen some of the forbidden manuscripts can write these characters.”

“But I haven’t seen those…” I started to tell him.

“Are you familiar with rebirth or any other concept of reincarnation?”

“Yes, we have something like that in my world.”

The Exonerated One grinned at me. “It’s very strange to hear someone call the world their own, but if that’s how you must refer to it, that’s fine for now. So you are then familiar with the concept of reincarnation, correct?”

“Yes, in my world it is a Buddhist concept. You die, and you are reincarnated based on the things that you did during your life, the karma that you cultivated. That’s about all I know about it, aside from the circle of life and death, and a few other details. I wasn’t a practicing Buddhist or anything.”

“I can’t speak of this religion of your world, but I can tell you that is a similar concept to what we believe here. Maybe a former version of yourself was alive and well in Lhasa, and this former self studied the language.”

“I’m sorry, I find that hard to believe.”

“Yet you can write ancient words that many of the monks here struggle with…”

“I’m just letting my hand do the writing, I assure you.”

“Let’s try one more runic test before we move on. I want you to trace the rune for the character ‘Ma.’ I don’t want you to trace the newer version; I want you to trace the ancient one. Even a dog who paid enough attention to his owner would know the newer version, considering it is everywhere.” “I’ll try,” I told him, dipping the quill back in the ink.

I glanced at the first two characters I’d made; part of me thought this was all a big scam, that the Exonerated One was simply playing along, that he knew I was making up characters.

Because that’s what it felt like.

This was not my language; my hand was doing the writing, not my brain.

Nevertheless, I closed my eyes and placed the tip of the quill on the parchment, and once I opened them I saw what looked almost like the pi symbol with the letter C cutting through its left downward stroke.

The Exonerated One instructed the boy monk to turn the parchment in his direction, so he could get an even better look at it. Once he’d examined it for a moment the elderly man looked up at me, smiling, his jowls lifting as he did so.

“This is very impressive,” he finally said, “especially for someone who claims to not know the language. But this is just the start. Next will be combat.”

Chapter Fourteen: Banished

The Exonerated One dropped his cane and lifted his fists, tensing them once. His eyes rolled into the back of his head for a moment, a wave of energy rolling over him.

“You want me to fight you?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at Lhandon, not able to find him at the back of the line of monks.

“It’s part of the trial,” the old man explained, cracking his knuckles.

“Fighting isn’t really my thing.”

“You claim to have slain an evil spirit, and from what Lhandon has already told me, you escaped the confines of slavery. You’re young, you have some muscle. Surely you are able to fight a man of my age.”

I knew this was a set-up of sorts. There was no way that the frail older monk was serious.

And hearing that Lhandon told him about my past made me wonder what else the chubby monk had shared. I didn’t know how long I’d be at the monastery, but maybe it was better for me to keep my mouth shut going forward…

“I can’t fight you,” I told him.

“Nonsense.”

A slap sent me flying backward, the wind knocked out of me once I hit the pavement.

What the…

I looked up at the older monk, who had been standing several feet away from me.

There was no way he could have moved that fast.

“Holy shit, you’re fast,” I said as I caught my breath.

“Are you now convinced that I’m a worthy opponent?”

I got to my feet, another slap sending me tumbling backwards again.

“How about now?” The Exonerated One asked.

I rolled to my side, slowly pressing myself off the ground. “It’s not that; I just have no reason to fight you.”

“You’ve come to the monastery I founded seeking refuge, and you are clearly interested in the Way of the Immortals.”

“I’m not interested in the Way. It has sort of been sprung on me.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t interested.”

“I’m here because of a dakini.”

A few of the monks standing to my left grumbled under their breaths.

“Let him speak,” the Exonerated One said. “He is my opponent, and it’s important he be allowed to say what he likes.”

“I’m…” I shook my head. There really was no way I was going to get out of this without fighting the old man.

After another deep breath in, I lifted my fists.

“Let’s just get it over with,” I told myself as I approached him.

Smack!

I was sent to the ground again, winded, pain radiating through the side of my face.

“If you plan to fight me, do so with conviction,” he said.

Rather than say anything else, I charged the man, planning to tackle him.

I didn’t even see him step aside.

I simply found myself with a face full of pavement, narrowly avoiding knocking my teeth out due to my arm stopping my fall. The Exonerated One laughed, and after he was finished, all the monks laughed as well.

It sounded weird as hell, like a call and response, and it was starting to piss me off.

Getting back to my feet, I brought my fists to the ready, noticing an energy coiling in my stomach.

“Yes,” the elderly man said, a light behind his eyes. “That’s what I wanted to see.”

I swung my fist at him and punched through the air, the old man now standing off to my left.

“I know you’re faster than that, Nick the Outsider.”

I tried to follow up with an elbow and another punch, only for him to chop my shoulders, making my knees buckle.

This attack triggered something, and as he tried to deliver a kick which would have seriously taken my head off, I slid forward on my knees, leaning my neck back, avoiding his attack.

“Yes!” the Exonerated One shouted. “There it is. There’s the Power.”

He brought his foot down; I rolled out of the way just in time, air kicking up from a crater in the pavement.

“Careful, Exonerated One!” one of his best-ranked monks cried.

“This is my fight!” the old man said as he ran forward, ready to deliver a chop.

It took me a moment to adjust to how slow he moved.

In the time it took him to reach me, I could have run around the monastery twice and still protected myself from his attack.

How is this possible? I thought, watching my arms come up, fists turn toward me as I absorbed his chop, an energy radiating through me and forcing him to stumble backward.

The Exonerated One gasped.

Everything was normal again, a slight breeze rippling the monk’s clothing, dust settling, his throat quivering.

Silence stretched between us.

His eye twitched as if something had come over him. The Exonerated One appeared behind me attempting to deliver a fist into my lower back, which I blocked by whipping around, my movement cutting a half-moon in the pavement.

He threw a few rapid punches, but my arms were in the right place after each attack, blocking him from landing a blow.

More punches, no pain whatsoever, just an intense focus that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It was just a few moments later that I noticed something else about my current surroundings that sent a chill through my spine.

We both floated now, the Exonerated One delivering his blows, tiring, my arms naturally moving into position to block each of his attacks.

And just when it seemed like he was going to stop, he brought both hands back and pushed forth a half-sphere of energy that triggered a bolt of lightning.

I hit the ground hard, a shockwave moving through me and exiting through my feet.

I saw smoke billowing off my body once I managed to open my eyes; I could smell my own burning flesh.

Fuck…

I lay on my back now, looking up at the deep blue sky, trying to stay awake.

The monks started to appear around me.

I was hoisted up, my body still writhing as I was carried away.

I awoke in complete darkness.

The room smelled earthy, and as I pressed off a mat on the ground, I tried to adjust to the pitch-black space.

There was no adjusting here.

It was as if I had been placed into a closet after being blindfolded. I even checked my face to see if there was something preventing me from seeing.

Nothing whatsoever.

And no restraints either. I made my way to the wall and began carefully navigating the room, and was startled when my foot touched an iron bowl. I reached down and placed my hand inside the bowl, bringing my fingers to my nose.

Shit.

Literally.

It was a goddamn chamber pot, and while there wasn’t any excrement in it, there had been before and it hadn’t been cleaned very thoroughly.

Am I in jail? I wondered as I found my way back to the cot. And for what? The Exonerated One had asked me to fight him, not the other way around. What was the meaning of this?

I plopped back down onto the bed, my feet on the floor as I tried to think this through. I hadn’t found a door during my examination of the room, and from what I could feel, the walls were all made of stone.

Panic rose in my heart.

It felt like I had been sealed in a tomb, and this made me wonder just how high the ceiling was. I got to my feet and jumped with my hands out.

Nothing aside from the echo of my own feet landing on the pavement.

I started pacing, getting lost in the small space, the fact that I wasn’t able to see only making matters worse. It was like I was buried in a tomb deep beneath the soil.

My heart rate picked up; I could feel my heart thrumming in my chest, could feel a tenseness spreading through me, could hear…

My own heartbeat.

It was then that I realized just how quiet this dark place was, absolutely no sound aside from my ticker, my sandaled feet every time I took a step, my own short breaths.

“Breathe,” I whispered to myself, my first deep breath in causing my stomach to tremble as I exhaled.

I didn’t know the first thing about true meditation, but I knew that it dealt with breathing, just like yoga.

So that’s what I focused on.

I didn’t feel any calmer with each breath in, but I was able to slow my heartbeat some.

This feeling of momentary bliss didn’t last long. Soon I was panicking again, screaming at the top of my lungs.

“Can anyone hear me!? Please! Can anyone hear me!?”

No response. I screamed again and again until my voice grew hoarse.

How long had I been sealed in this chamber? I suddenly felt cold, hungry, my fear again boiling over me, weighing heavy on my soul.

“Just breathe,” I said again, hoping that verbalizing would help.

It didn’t. The panic continued to move over me in waves until I felt weak, until I felt as if I were…

One with the darkness.

Yes.

Each breath in solidified this new thought.

The dark was my life force, the air powering my lungs, oxygenating my blood.

“You can get through this,” I whispered to myself.

I took a seat, just breathing in the darkness now, imagining it as a purple energy entering through my nostrils, down to my lungs, spreading through my system. I could feel my veins pulsing now, could visualize my heart, my brain, the oxygen reaching the tips of my fingers.

Deep breaths, Nick.

I followed the voice at the back of my head until I returned to Massachusetts, to the place I rented outside of Worcester. I looked up at the old house I was renting a room in, waved to my neighbors down the street as they passed by in their car, glanced in the direction of the package store two blocks away.

I wanted to go inside but I couldn’t.

With each step forward I moved away from the home, the image starting to waver as I found myself at Tom’s bachelor party, the portal opening up, all of us slipping in.

The sea dragon rose out of the darkness, snarling, water dripping off its scales as it lowered its head to me, its angry eyes locking onto me.

I was full-on trembling now as I took in the image.

I was determined to fight through it.

Rather than run, I turned my palm over, noticing I now held a sword unlike any weapon I’d ever seen before, with a blade made of fire.

I could feel the energy radiating off it as I brought the blade up and charged the dragon.

It started to open its mouth, and suddenly, I was running from the boar, up a tree, taking refuge until the branches formed into a woman.

There were angry ghosts swelling above me, taking turns attacking the woman. Deciding to protect her, I launched into the air, propelled forward by a force I’d never experienced before, my flaming sword cutting through one of the ghosts, whose form evaporated as she screamed in my face.

Two of the ghosts dove through me, and as they came out the other side I spun, taking off both of their heads.

I was suddenly in the tent with the two sisters, Kiba and Karzi.

One had her leg wrapped around me as she moved up and down; the other was dipping her nipples into my mouth, begging me to suck them, squirming with glee once I did.

I opened my eyes and…

Nothing changed.

Karzi was still on top of me, Kiba kissing me as she ran her hand down my chest.

Startled, I pressed Karzi away and sat up, both of them cowering into the darkened corner.

They were gone a moment later, their forms shattering into a million tiny pieces that turned to a dark liquid once the pieces hit the ground. The liquid swelled over to me, warming my skin as it made its way to my mouth and my nostrils.

It entered my body in the form of a dark purple breath, again spreading through my system, my organs reappearing to me in my mind’s eye.

I was onto something.

I didn’t know what the hell it was, but it was definitely something worth exploring.

I was just starting to take deep breaths again, honing my focus, when a scratching noise met my ears.

An arc of light cut into the space as a panel was removed from the ceiling.

I was blinded for a moment, but once I was able to see, I looked up using my hand to cover my eyes.

I caught Lhandon staring down at me, an apprehensive look on his face.

Chapter Fifteen: Three Years, Three Months, Three Weeks and Three Days

“Are you okay, Nick?”

“Where the hell am I?” I asked, seeing that the distance between the floor and the ceiling was about nine feet. Still shielding my eyes, I looked from the corner of the room back to the opening in the ceiling, hoping that I could make the leap between here and there.

No way.

Dammit.

“I’m sorry, Nick.”

“You already said that, Lhandon! Where the hell am I?”

“In one of our deep meditation chambers.”

“How long have I been down here?”

“About a day. There’s a chamber pot that you can use.”

“Aware, and I don’t need to use the fucking chamber pot. Why the hell has he put me down here? Because I almost beat him?”

“The Exonerated One sees your potential, and he thought this would be the best place for you to go to have a breakthrough.”

“He thought…” I took a deep breath in. “A hole in the ground isn’t the best place for anyone to go!”

“People can benefit from the meditation chambers.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Don’t be angry, Nick, this is for your own good.”

“I don’t believe it is,” I told him. “Look, Lhandon, and I’m deadly serious here: I want you to tell him to let me out of here.”

“I’m afraid he won’t listen to me; you’ll have to serve out your time.”

“No, I did not agree to this. Lhandon. You’re doing this against my will.”

“Aren’t you interested in the Way of the Immortals?” he asked, true concern in his eyes. “I’m not even at the level that I could benefit from isolation. I think I’ll be a Broken Sword for life. The Exonerated One thinks you may be at the stage of the Wheel with a Rusty Axle. That’s really good, you know!”

I shook my head. “I am not from here, I know nothing of the texts or the script, I don’t even believe in any of this.”

“And he thinks you might be a Golden One, which is very rare indeed.”

“The what? You’re not listening to me, Lhandon! I’m nobody special. I never have been, never will be.”

“Humble too, you’re very humble, Nick.”

“Please, shut up and let me finish here.”

“I’m sorry, go on.”

“I’m not anybody, and all I want is to find my friends and…”

“Yes? What else would you like?”

“Revenge,” I admitted.

“Against the Exonerated One? Please don’t take this as cruel, even though it may seem a bit unorthodox. But this is one of the fastest ways to move up a stage on the Path of the Divine. It borrows from the Path of Sudden Enlightenment, which is why it seems extreme. The Exonerated One is smart like that, you know. He knows how all the paths can merge, how… ” Lhandon smiled. “You’d have to let him explain it; I’m just a novice. I’ve read about all the paths, sure, and I get what he’s trying to do, and to be honest, I’ve developed a few of my own ideas to use if I ever reach his level. But I won’t reach his level, so I suppose that is a moot point.”

“Lhandon.”

“Yes, Nick?”

“I don’t agree to this,” I said, my whole body trembling.

“No one does at first, but you’ll get used to it. In the scheme of things, three years, three months, three weeks and three days isn’t that long. The Exonerated One himself went through a similar ritual when he was in prison.”

“Did you say three years?”

“Three years, three months, three weeks and three days of uninterrupted contemplation. I’m afraid the clock has to start over because of our little dialogue here. But I believe it’s important for you to understand what’s happening here, which was why I volunteered to explain it to you. For the first year, you’ll experience a completely dark and silent contemplation. For the second year, you’ll be given a deity to meditate upon and a few hours of light per day. For the third year, you’ll be given parchment, sacred texts, and a quill. You’ll be able to make silent requests at that point for other religious works that may interest you.”

“Lhandon, I do not agree with this!”

“You’ll get two meals a day, which we’ll lower down to you in the morning. That’s what I’m here to do now. You may also send your chamber pot up daily and someone will clean it. Be careful doing that, though, it can create quite a mess! Luckily, one of the monks who has been through this ritual devised a way to make it easier, so when we lower your two meals, we’ll also lower a lid for you to seal your chamber pot with.”

“Please, Lhandon, goddamn you!”

“The Exonerated One said not to take whatever you say to me as a karmic affront. You seem genuinely angry, but I am a Broken Sword so there’s not much I can do aside from listening to the rules that are presented to me. I’m sorry, Nick.”

“Lhandon!” I shouted, kicking the wall.

“We won’t be able to speak after this unless you want to reset the clock, but I promise to be the one who lowers food down to you daily. It is my karmic duty to help you, and in three years, three months, three weeks and three days, I hope we can remain friends. I’d like to hear more about this place called… Massachusetts. Did I say that right?”

“Dammit, Lhandon, you aren’t listening to me. I don’t agree with this!”

“And if any of your friends stop by, I’ll let them know the day you will emerge from your deep meditation. Consider yourself lucky, Nick. I’ve never seen the Exonerated One so sure of a monk’s path, and that’s saying something considering I’ve been here since I was a boy.”

He nodded, satisfied with the fucked up thing he was about to do.

“Please…” I started to say.

“I’m lowering your food now, and I’ll take your chamber pot tomorrow. I’ll have wax in my ears just in case you try to speak to me. Remember, if I hear you, the process restarts.”

The first day was the most brutal.

The second day was terrifying.

The third day was exhausting.

The fourth day was filled with some of the strangest visuals I’d had yet, from angels to electric dragons, a sword made of flames to a man with energy hands. I fought towering demons, easily the size of a four-story building, with teeth for eyes, thousands of sharp claws, poisonous tails and blood-curdling roars, the darkness swelling, knifing into my chest, beating me against the floor.

My fists.

Beating them against the floor.

My heart.

Beating in my chest.

My stomach, twisting into a knot.

My body covered in sweat.

The fifth day was… fast.

Time was a jagged blur by this point, aside from once a day when the panel opened above, and food was lowered to me.

I lost track on the sixth day.

The room was illuminated now. I’d crafted a swanky Manhattan apartment in my head, with views of Central Park, a beautiful wife that looked like Dema, the most comfortable bed in the city, a shitter in front of a floor-to-ceiling glass window.

I remembered what day it was on the eighth day. By this point, I felt that I could conjure light with my hands, the darkness no longer as bad as it had been on the first day. I could see things now; there were subtleties to everything, shades of black that I didn’t know existed.

I was surrounded by friends.

Tom was here, alive, happy.

Bobby was making self-deprecating jokes as usual, wisdom beyond his years.

Hugo was the Hugo I remembered before he joined the Marines, a daring man full of kindness with a wicked sense of humor.

Before the end of the eighth day, I was back in Worcester, Massachusetts, walking downtown, old brick buildings all around me. It was a city that had been partially forgotten and recently remembered, new businesses opening, still recovering from the opioid epidemic.

I had called the place home for several years now, liking its proximity to Boston, the strangeness that lurked beneath its surface in the form of festivals and concerts, odd jobs and eclectic denizens.

I walked along the street for a moment, a few cars zipping past, a place that sold beer and donuts on my right. Hunger coming over me, I stepped into the establishment and found a glimmering case filled with a wide variety of donuts, from a chocolate one with bacon on top to cake donuts with pink and blue sprinkles.

There was a donut with my name on it and I took it, examining the pastry before taking a bite, immediately disappearing.

I stood in front of Bancroft Tower in Salisbury Park, the tower built by a friend to honor the life of a man who helped establish the United States Naval Academy.

I looked up at the structure with its crenellated square towers, and off-center circular tower sticking up from the middle, an arched gateway beneath. It was a striking visual, one that reminded me of the power of friendship.

Lifting my arms up brought me to the top of the tower where I was able to get a stunning view of Worcester, the trees starting to turn to their fall colors, hues of red and orange spreading across the horizon.

I was at peace.

By the start of the ninth day, I was content to be trapped in the meditation chamber. The only thing I didn’t like was when I had to make a bowel movement, mostly because it made the space smell. I had almost trained myself to go just before food was lowered, so I could get it out of here as quickly as possible.

By the eleventh day, I had successfully taken control of my own bodily functions.

This sparked new ideas to try, from lowering my heart rate to concentrating so hard that I put my brain in a constant state of dreaming. It was escapism, and it was beautiful. I could be anywhere at a moment’s notice, from standing at the top of Mt. Everest to looking up at the Great Pyramid, its secrets revealed to me.

Time did not matter. The room was well lit. My life was on pause. Everything in its right place.

A severe depression hit me on the sixteenth day.

I could barely lift myself from my cot. The darkness was oppressive, the world nonexistent, the food bland, the pain real.

I tried to kill myself by running my head into one of the walls, but I didn’t have enough room to really get a good running start. I also tried to throw myself backward and crack my head against the ground, but every time I did this I was stopped by an invisible force from finishing the job.

I beat myself with the tray they lowered my food on.

It hurt, and it gave me a headache, but I couldn’t hit myself hard enough to do any lasting damage, and Lhandon never provided silverware, so that wasn’t an option either.

My nails were longer now, so I tried using my own nails to cut into my veins, but while they would draw blood, I was never able to get deep enough to finish the job. And by the following day, the wounds would be healed up anyway.

My depression left by the twenty-first day, replaced by bliss.

I was free.

The darkened space was a glimmering meadow of the mind where anything was possible.

I could sit on a cloud and fly around the meadow, meeting new people, greeting loved ones, having anything and anyone I desired.

I could hear music now.

A cello playing in the background, a beautiful melody that I could never quite follow, the tempo always changing, the sound morphing to that of a tiger growling, a beast snoring, a young girl humming, a motorcycle on a quiet street, a box fan in a window.

The sound of screams, the sound of fighting, the sound of swords, explosions, more cries, agony.

Food didn’t come the next morning.

I thought back to what I had experienced the night before.

Were the sounds I’d heard actually real?

I heard the top open at some point, no light coming into the room.

“Nick, it’s me, Lhandon.”

I looked up at the ceiling, noticing a difference in the space, twilight seeping in. The orange light of a lantern painted across the space, invigorating me and frightening me at the same time.

“You can talk to me,” he whispered. “I know you’re awake, I can see you. I’m lowering a rope down; there’s been a problem.”

Chapter Sixteen: Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom

“The shortest three years, three months, three weeks and three days of your life, right?” Lhandon asked as I reached the top.

I almost tackled the portly monk.

I’d never felt like striking someone so hard in my life, but this feeling left me as soon as it crossed my mind, as soon as I labeled it.

I’d never had that short of a temper before, but I noticed something different after I pulled myself out of the hole in the ground. I had been able to completely label the thought, observe it, and let it pass, rather than act.

I didn’t believe this was something I could have done a few weeks back. This didn’t stop me from making a threat, however.

“You’re really lucky,” I told him, my eyes narrowing on him.

“It wasn’t my idea, Nick, I already told you that. But look on the bright side, you made it for three weeks, which is a feat in itself. An auspicious number, even! There have been people that have killed themselves before then.”

“I tried that.”

“You tried to kill yourself?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“I did, but I wasn’t able to do it.”

“Unless you’re a ghost now.”

“I’m not a goddamn ghost.”

“Good, because I’m not great with spirits unless it involves riddles.”

“What kind of system is this, anyway?” I asked, growing agitated again. “How can this be part of the Path of the Divine?”

“I already explained it to you, Nick, the Exonerated One was hoping…”

“There’s no rhyme nor reason to this,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s just a series of guesses, isn’t it? I’m a Broken Sword, or a Rusty Wheel, or whatever.”

“Wheel with a Rusty Axle.”

“How can sticking someone in a hole without their permission help them do anything? How can that be a quantifiable way to reach this world’s version of enlightenment?”

“I…”

“You don’t have an answer, do you? Has anyone ever quantified, or, I don’t know, codified the Path of the Divine? I get it, there are other paths in this grand idea that is the Way of the Immortals, but at least the one you follow is the middle path, right?”

He nodded.

“Then it should at least have steps and a testable system, don’t you agree?”

Lhandon clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Actually, yes, I do agree. It is something I’ve thought for some time now.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. What you are saying is correct, and requires more exploration. But there are more pressing matters at the moment… ”

I took a look around the space, which was illuminated by the orange light from Lhandon’s lantern. We were surrounded by trees, and I could also see a preparation area stacked with the trays that had been lowered down to me.

Other than that, there wasn’t a lot to give me any indication where we were, aside from the biting cold, which made me think we were still in the mountains.

“What happened?” I finally asked.

“They attacked us,” he said, fear painting across his face. “A powerful group of treasure hunters ransacked the monastery, they… they…”

I recalled the group that Roger and I had seen on our way to the monastery. Could it have been them? Once Lhandon was able to regain control of himself, he continued:

“I was just getting ready for bed when the attack started. There were nine or ten of them, and one of them had the Fist of Force.”

“Fist of Force?” I asked, the ground feeling shaky for a moment.

“From a rare artifact. I saw what they did with my own eyes. I saw all of it. Forgive me, Nick,” he said, throwing himself at my feet. “I am a coward! I hid and I… I survived. I’m so sorry, but I survived. The karmic repercussions…”

“Do not be sorry for trying to survive.”

“Their leader had the Fist of Force. I saw him punch a monk so hard that the man’s skin separated from his skeleton. Dead. All of them dead.”

“Everyone’s dead. The Exonerated One?”

Lhandon looked up at me, tears in his eyes. “The Exonerated One was first taken out by a poisonous dart, but he could have… he would have had the strength to take down the Fist of Force had it not been for the deaths.”

“So everyone is dead? I don’t understand, Lhandon.”

“Yes, everyone, including the children.” He got to his feet again, slowly, his weight making it difficult for him to do so in a timely manner. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “I come from a long line of men with big bones.”

“Don’t worry about that. And stop apologizing, Lhandon.”

“Sorry!”

“Please tell me what happened.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ve been at this monastery for thirty years. I came here when I was ten.”

“You’re forty?”

“I am. The weight makes me look younger.”

“Okay.”

Lhandon continued. “Anyway, in my thirty years here, I’ve come to know some things. I’ve come to understand how a monastery could potentially exploit the Way of the Immortals, how a person could use others to cultivate his own immortality. What am I saying? I shouldn’t be saying this.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, but no one is here to judge you, and you said yourself that everyone is dead…”

He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, sucked in a deep breath, and let it out. “The Exonerated One had figured out a way to exploit the combined karma of all the monks, including mine, to increase his power and his life span. He wasn’t a true practitioner—there, I said it. I mean, he was, but he wasn’t. He just figured out a way to convince others to do the heavy lifting for him. So once…” He started to sob again. “Once he was temporarily poisoned, he couldn’t use any of his powers, powers that were stolen from all of us. Fist of Force knew about all this. He lined up the monks in the courtyard and had all of their heads cut off. I saw all of them die, Nick. All of them!”

The thought hit me. “And… because they were all killed, the Exonerated One lost his powers.”

“Yes! They woke him up with an antidote. He saw all the monks lying with pools of blood around the places where their heads used to be and he started to age rapidly, shriveling and dying.”

“How did you survive this?”

“I was sleeping like I told you. And because I had failed to cultivate enough, according to the Exonerated One, I had been banished to a room above the outhouse. It has a view of the courtyard, but the single window is mostly obscured by trees. I watched it all happen from there. They also had a prisoner, a woman.”

“Jesus.”

“Who’s that?”

“Never mind. Do you know what they were looking for? What could the treasure hunters possibly have wanted?”

Lhandon grew quiet. “I know exactly what they were looking for.”

“What?” I asked.

“Come. I’ll… I’ll explain everything once we get back to the monastery. It isn’t a long walk, just a few minutes. I’m so sorry to free you from your deep meditation.”

“Are there any others to free?” I asked, noticing a polished stone panel not far from where we currently stood.

“No, you were the only one doing this exercise at the moment. Let’s get back to the monastery; I don’t like being in this part of the woods at night. There may be spirits out.”

I followed Lhandon on a winding rocky path that led to the monastery. It was entirely surreal to be back out of the underground meditation cell. There were a few times when I assumed this was all a hallucination, that my mind had invented everything Lhandon had told me.

The smells had also taken me off guard.

I’d gone from the earthy smell of cold rocks to the fresh scent of pine, and each breath in was more refreshing than the last.

There was something different about me, something I definitely noticed as I took in the outline of the monastery at the top of a hill, the moon directly behind it, larger-than-life.

I felt free.

Lhandon was sweating by the time we reached the courtyard, the heavy man huffing and puffing as he dropped his hands to his knees to take in a few deep breaths of oxygen.

“You all right there, pal?” I asked him.

“It’s such a long walk up. Down isn’t so hard, but up is always a chore. There may be some wisdom in what I just said, but that’s… not helping me catch my breath.”

I noticed that none of the candles were lit in the monastery aside from a single room near the back entrance. From what I could see of the courtyard, it was clean.

“Where are the bodies?”

Lhandon looked at me incredulously. “Why do you think I was so late getting you? I can’t karmically allow the bodies of my fallen brothers to be pecked at by vultures.”

“You buried them all?”

“Heavens, no. I cremated them all in our crematorium,” he said, pointing to the southern end of the property. “And I had to do it in pairs just in case there were any relics left behind. Busy day, a busy, sad day…”

“Relics?”

“Those who have reached certain stages sometimes leave relics behind once they pass. I’ve seen it before, a pearl in their ash, a figure. The monastery has a collection.”

“And did anyone leave anything?”

“Just the Exonerated One. A black pearl. Very rare, but also considered unlucky. I’ve stored it away.”

“I see.” I nodded at Lhandon, ignoring the loud growl coming from my stomach.

“Food! I forget you haven’t eaten. Come, I’ll explain everything else over food. It will only take me a moment to prepare; the stew should still be hot.”

And with that, Lhandon led me to the back entrance of the monastery, where we turned to the kitchen. He gestured toward a single chair at a small table, and he returned a minute or so later with a hot bowl of soup and a hard roll.

“Eat, I’ll explain everything,” he said as he pulled up a stool.

I dug in immediately, the soup robust, with a hint of spice to it.

“The treasure hunters were in search of the items necessary to unlock the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom.” He waved away the curious look on my face. “Please eat, Nick, and I’ll explain everything before you ask any questions.”

I nodded, shoveling another spoonful of his delicious soup into my mouth.

“The Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom is a sword made of eternal fire. It is guarded by a gate that has a specific set of instructions necessary to open it. The Exonerated One shared a prison cell with a man who knew how to open the gate. Once he was out, he journeyed across the land acquiring the necessary items to open the gate.”

“Crazy,” I said with my mouth full.

“While the Exonerated One exploited us for our karma, he tried to balance it out by protecting the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom at the same time. To do so, he found all the items necessary to open the gate. The man, Fist of Force, was able to get all the items but he was still missing the actual map.”

“Uh-huh,” I said as I neared the end of my bowl of soup.

“Somehow, he had acquired the mirrored pendant of Danzen, the Mummified Hand of Dolma, and the sand of Armeck, if you can believe that! I still don’t know how he pulled that off to begin with, but he came here looking for the map and I’m afraid…” Lhandon looked down at my soup. “Please, let me get you another bowl.”

“I’m fine,” I started to say.

“Nonsense.” Lhandon grabbed my bowl and went to the kitchen, returning with more soup. “Now, as for the map, it’s not a pretty story.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“I knew that the Exonerated One had hidden the items to open the gate across Lhasa, and I was well aware of where he’d hidden the map too. So, remember the courtyard? Remember me telling you they’d taken all the monks there and beheaded them?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Before they did, the treasure hunters undressed the Exonerated One and found the map tattooed on his back, which Fist of Force quickly had them copy before the executions began.”

An idea came to me. Like I had earlier, I first examined the idea, letting silence stretch between Lhandon and me as I did so. Was it really what I should be doing now that I was free? Wouldn’t it be better to leave the monastery and return to the bigger cities in hopes of finding my friends?

That would be selfish, a voice said at the back of my head. I couldn’t quite place the voice, but it sounded like Dema the dakini.

“Maybe…” I took another slurp of the soup, letting the idea simmer for a moment longer. “Maybe I could go after the treasure hunters.”

“You’d do that?” Lhandon asked, wide-eyed. “I knew… I knew there was something different about you!”

“Do you have another map?” I asked, ignoring the surprise on his face.

“I…” Lhandon regained his composure. “There was a time where I served as the Exonerated One’s tailor. I’m very handy with a needle and thread, you know?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. I make, or I made, most of the monks’ robes here, other clothing as well, my favorite being ritual clothing. I’ve seen that map a thousand times. I know all the details. Give me a couple of hours to meditate on it and put it down on leather for you. Better to put it on leather than parchment because it is an arduous journey to the gate.”

“Thanks, that will help. Are there any weapons here?”

Lhandon shook his head. “No, but I can show you a few things I picked up. Also, there’s one more thing you should know: the map on the Exonerated One’s back is incorrect. He told me about it once, that he’d purposefully had the final leg modified just in case this happened. So you’ll be able to catch Fist of Force and his treasure hunters. While the map may lead them to the area, it isn’t going to bring them directly to the gate. But I know how to get to the gate,” he said, tapping his temple.

“Good,” I told him, “and thank you for coming to get me tonight.”

“Thank you for not killing me as soon as I let you out.”

“You sensed that I wanted to harm you?”

Lhandon nodded. “You shouldn’t have been put in that hole in the first place. If I were head monk here, I would have tested more of your powers and then caught you up on some of the runes before making a recommendation like that.”

“Lhandon, you are the head monk here now, at least in my book.”

He brought his hand to his mouth, trying to cover a gasp and failing. “Thank you, Nick, but I must humbly decline what you are suggesting. I can’t take that mantle. Not yet anyway, not until I’ve done something to earn a title.”

Chapter Seventeen: Healing Hand

It took me a moment to comprehend my surroundings once the next morning came. No longer was I in a darkened hole; there was actually light coming in from a cracked window.

And with my next breath, I recalled everything that had happened the previous night, how I had agreed to go after the treasure hunters.

And why?

Simply because it was the right thing to do?

The only ulterior motive I could think of was that a weapon like that would help me if I indeed planned to go back to Nagchu in search of my friends or possibly to…

Liberate the slaves?

I had to pause for a moment once this idea crossed my mind.

It wasn’t something I’d normally consider doing, but I couldn’t forget the hospitality Altan had shown me, and just how desperate some of the slaves were.

What if someone was able to free them? What if someone was able to put a stop to Madame Mabel’s iniquitous narcotic business?

I examined this thought for what it was, steadying my breath as I envisioned how it could play out.

This was something new to me as well: I could feel the future in my mind’s eye.

I couldn’t quite see it in the traditional sense of sight, but I could comprehend it, almost reach out and touch it.

A knock at the door startled me.

“Nick, are you awake?”

“I am now,” I told Lhandon.

“I’ve prepared breakfast, and I’ve made the map as discussed. We have things to do before we start off on our journey.”

“We?” I asked, looking up at the portly monk.

“I cannot let you go alone,” he said. “And I believe you should take the Flaming Thunderbolt, if we can get the items from the treasure hunters.”

“Take the weapon?” I shook my head. “We… we can figure that out later. You’d actually come along with me?”

He nodded. “These treasure hunters have killed people that are near and dear to my heart. I am not the best fighter, but I have picked up on a few things, mostly runic, and even if I can’t be of help in a fight, I am useful in other ways,” he said with a humble smile. “If we were in… Massachusetts. Did I say that right?”

“Almost.”

“Then you would surely help me get around, right?”

“Right.”

“Well then; let’s have breakfast.”

I followed Lhandon down the hallway to the kitchen again, where he’d prepared quail eggs and carrots boiled in fat. There was bread as well, there always seemed to be bread as part of a meal in Lhasa, and as we ate, Lhandon told me about our planned route.

“It has some narrow points, especially here and here,” he said, pointing to a trail that circled around a jagged rock. “It will get colder and colder as we move to a higher altitude, so we’ll have to pack accordingly. But we have clothing for this, wolf furs reserved for yearly mountain retreats, or when we deliver food to the hermits.”

“Hermits?”

“There are several who have left this monastery to live in the mountains and cultivate their inner powers through meditation. If a storm comes, we may have to go to one of these hermitages to seek shelter. I’ll bring extra supplies for them as well. The hermits don’t like being disturbed, but if we bring food they usually relax. It’s good karma for us as well.”

“You know, trying to cultivate karma for the sake of karma isn’t genuine.”

Lhandon bit his lip. “Perhaps you are right about that. There are a lot of things we have done around the monastery solely for the sake of gaining karma. Is this an insight you had underground?”

I finished chewing my piece of bread. “I believe so, yes. But to be honest with you, those words left my lips before I could fully process them.”

“Either your mind is moving faster than your ability to take into consideration what you’ve just said, or you are simply channeling profound words. This can happen after deep cultivation.” Lhandon pushed his plate away. “Are you ready? I’d like to test more of your runic knowledge. And I’d like to pass on a rune to you, your first.”

“You’re giving me a power?”

He shrugged. “Good karma. Kidding. This is something that may come in handy, and it could help you with this ability you showed during your fight against the Exonerated One.”

“That was a crazy fight.”

“You’re telling me! Once you two were up in the air, I seriously thought you were going to win. No one, and I mean no one, has ever been able to match the Exonerated One.”

“And then he sentences me to an underground cell after…”

“Yes, maybe that’s the best way to look at it. But you’re out now, and something happened while you were down there, correct?”

“Yes. I think I went crazy.”

“Yet you sit before me eating your breakfast like nothing happened. About the only thing that has changed about you is you’re more gaunt now, and your hair is longer. Once it gets long enough, you can cut it like mine,” he said, showing me his bald head and then the ponytail at the back.

“I’m good.”

“The monk hairstyle doesn’t fit your taste?”

“No.”

He laughed. “Well, I suppose it is best to be frank about things rather than skirt around the edge of true opinion. Come, I’ll clean this later before we leave. I’m feeling rejuvenated right now, which is the best time to pass on a teaching.”

Lhandon took me through a winding corridor to a room with short tables situated on long steps, a place that would allow someone to stand at the front and lecture. He motioned for me to sit behind one of the tables, and once I did so, he cautiously walked to the front of the room.

“I’ve never stood in this space before,” he said, taking a satisfying breath in. “I… I can feel the energy here, so much knowledge passed.” Lhandon smoothed his hands over his robes. “Okay, we should begin. You seem to know some ancient runes.”

“I literally don’t.”

“Okay, then grab that quill and show me the Lha.”

“Lha?”

“You’ve already done this one before, in the courtyard.”

I pressed the quill against the paper and closed my eyes, letting my hand take over. Once I was finished, I saw the square with a line hanging off it and two curved slash marks.

“See? You’re halfway there.”

“To what?”

“To the rune I’m going to teach you. We don’t yet know how to trigger your power, but I have some hypotheses that we can test at some point.”

“Okay.”

“So don’t worry there.”

“I’m not.”

“See? You’ve become so modest since going underground,” he said, his genuine tone at odds with his snarky remark. “Okay, so what I show you now will require a demonstration.” Lhandon procured a knife from the front of his robes and placed it on the table behind him. “Please write the character for ‘mo.’”

“Um, okay.” I closed my eyes again, and once I opened them, I saw a character that started with a horizontal line and a curled, vertical line running from it with an added flare on its backside.

“Precisely,” he said. “Now watch what happens when you combine these.” Lhandon took the knife from the table and took a deep breath in. He turned his palm toward me and cut a line across it, and after another breath in, he stabbed the knife through his own hand, the tip coming out the other side.

“Damn, man,” I started to say as he withdrew the bloodied blade, blood dripping onto the ground as his face turned red with pain. He placed the knife on the table and pointed his finger toward me.

“Lha-Mo,” he said, tracing the characters in the air. A glow emanated from his fingers, and he quickly waved his hand over the injury.

It sealed up once the light was transferred from his finger to his other palm.

“Now,” he began, “there’s a limitation to Healing Hand. It can be performed once per day on you or a third party, it lasts for five minutes and you can heal multiple people with it. Before you ask, Healing Hand won’t allow you to bring someone back from the dead.” He frowned as he looked down at his palm. “I’m rather sad to be giving this one up.”

“Giving it up? What do you mean?”

“There are certain runic powers that can only be transmitted from one person to another, and once they have been transferred, the first person loses their ability to cast the rune. Healing Hand is one of these powers. But I believe this one could help you, especially with your fighting ability.”

“I can’t accept it then. If someone passed it to you, then surely they wanted you to have it.”

“It is good…”

“Karma for karma’s sake is not good karma,” I reminded him.

“It was a gift to me by an older monk, who transmitted it to me once he decided on a deathday.”

“A deathday?”

“Some monks don’t want immortality once they’ve reached certain ages. This monk was a traveling hermit who would affix himself to monasteries for a decade at a time, giving teachings. He was here when I was a boy, and he took a liking to me. It was a parting gift.”

“That was generous of him.”

“It was. But to be honest with you, the only time I’ve ever used it is when I stub my toe on the stone steps here at the temple. I would have used it the other night, when the treasure hunters attacked, but they were all dead by the time I reached them, and as I said, this doesn’t heal the dead. There are runic powers that are said to bring someone back from the dead, but I don’t know any of them.”

“I can’t accept this…”

“You must accept it, and first you must learn to write Lha-Mo. Look at the parchment in front of you. Do you sense how these two could connect? Rather than go through an explanation about how runic characters work together, I’d like to first see if you get a natural feel for how they could connect. Note: not side-by-side, connect.”

“I suppose you could just replace the stem of Lha with Mo, add the two curved marks above the curl and the final slash mark below it.”

“Right again,” he said with a smile. “Now, trace it up for me, and once you have done so, I’ll begin the transmission ritual.”

Chapter Eighteen: Poems in a Cave

An energy moved through me.

I blinked my eyes open to see Lhandon seated across from me, his hands in a prayer position as light pooled at the center of his forehead. Suddenly the light was floating above Lhandon’s palm, glowing and spinning as he looked to me.

Using a pair of chopsticks, Lhandon carefully took the ball of energy out of the air and examined it, as if to bid it farewell. He motioned for me to come forward, and once I came, he pressed the ball of energy into my chest.

“That should do it,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his face. “Ready to test it?”

“That’s it?” I asked, looking down at my own chest, figuring I’d see or sense some difference.

“Were you expecting something else?”

“I was expecting some kind of, I don’t know, electric feeling or something.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“No, it’s fine, and I appreciate it.”

Lhandon rubbed his hands together. “Good, then it is time to test your ability.”

“With your knife?”

“Would you prefer another knife?”

We sat in silence for a moment until Lhandon understood what I was suggesting. “I see. The knives in the kitchen are clean. Perhaps you could use one of those ones.”

Once we were in the kitchen, Lhandon suggested that I get the rune ready before I cut into myself.

“And I don’t have to say or think anything, right?”

“No, all you need to do is remember how to cast the rune, Healing Hand, which you should do before you cut yourself.” He winked at me. “I believe that would be considered a tip from a professional.”

I smiled at him. “A pro tip?”

“Sure, although I haven’t heard it abbreviated like that before.”

I took one of the clean knives off a drying rack and placed it on a metal table. Just as Lhandon had shown me, I traced up the rune, starting from the square at the top and working my way down.

Lha-Mo.

“Again, you’ll get it.”

After another attempt, I tried doing it with my eyes closed, discovering that it actually worked this time.

My right hand began to glow, and once Lhandon gave me the go-ahead, I cut a line into my palm, wincing as the pain spread up my arm. I set the knife down and immediately healed the wound, barely any blood dripping out before it healed up.

“Wow,” I said, going for the knife again.

“Remember, there are limitations, and once you see that your hand is no longer glowing, the spell has worn off.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said as I cut myself again, this time deeper, really feeling the pain. An idea came to me at that moment that I could use this power to get myself used to experiencing extreme amounts of pain.

Definitely something to play around with, I thought as I healed myself again. I performed the same gesture several more times, impressed that there wasn’t even a bit of pink skin or anything left once the wound was healed.

Eventually, my Healing Hand power faded and Lhandon asked me to cook something for lunch while he packed our bags. Having spent time working at a variety of farm-to-table restaurants in Massachusetts, I whipped up a dish featuring twice baked potatoes, a salad made of greens that reminded me of arugula topped with crumbled bits of sliced apples and curd.

It definitely wasn’t something Lhandon was used to eating, but after his first bite, the portly monk was definitely impressed.

“You really aren’t from around here,” he said as he worked on his twice baked potato.

“No, I’m really not.”

After lunch, Lhandon showed me to a room where he had prepared clothing for me. It was similar to the dark, robe-like garb I was given earlier, only there was fur lining along the collar and the pant cuffs.

It was warm, but he assured me it was necessary for the trek we were about to embark upon. We each had a bag and Lhandon handed me another small knife, not unlike the one he’d pulled from his robes earlier.

“Sorry, we don’t have any real weapons.”

“We’ll figure something out along the way. The important part is getting there before the treasure hunters do.”

“Agreed,” he said as he led me to a set of stairs at the side of the monastery. Once we were outside, he pointed to the end of a long valley, even larger mountains on the horizon. “That’s where we’re going. It should be about two days.”

“Got it. And the place is locked up?” I asked, looking up at the pagoda rooftop of the monastery.

“That’s why we came out the side. We should be bandit-proof for a few days. If more treasure hunters come around, then the chance of the monastery being ransacked goes up.” He shook his head. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

Lhandon was mostly quiet on the first day of our trip. It was clear that he wasn’t used to exerting himself in such a way, his silence mostly because of the effort it took for him to breathe. But huffing, puffing and wheezing at points didn’t stop him from keeping a good pace.

“This looks like a good place to rest,” he said, once we reached a series of caves with blue prayer flags wrapped around some of the rock. “I’ve used this cave before. The demons that were once inside were cleared out years ago.”

“Good to know,” I said as I set my pack down.

“There are some hermits not far from here,” he said once he unrolled his map, which he placed on the ground, using rocks to flatten it out. “Here and here,” he said as he tapped his finger on a pair of mountains he’d drawn.

“Not to scale.”

“That would be helpful, wouldn’t it?” he said with a chuckle.

“There are two famous hermits in these parts, Thupten and Baatar, both of them Spineless Books.”

“Which means? Sorry, I get the rankings confused.”

“It means they are Divine Masters. A novice is considered a Broken Sword; a cultivator a Wheel with a Rusty Axle; an advanced student is called Ink in the Sea; a teacher is known as a Wolf Stalking a Lantern; a master is a Hollow Peacock; and then you come to Spineless Book. The finale stage on the Path of the Divine is a reborn student, a Golden One. This is what the Exonerated One believed you may be.”

“What was the Exonerated One’s ranking?”

“He ranked himself as a Hollow Peacock, a master on the Path of the Divine.”

“Of course he did.”

Lhandon nodded. “I should mention that there’s a caveat to all this.”

“There always is.”

“Once you’re a Golden One, it means you have to start the path all over again. It’s cyclical in that way.”

“I recall hearing that. That would mean these hermits are technically the highest level, considering the final stage is simply a jumping off point to start the Path again?”

“Technically, yes.”

“But no one has an official way to move through these stages, correct? By this I mean that the Exonerated One had his ‘way,’ while this hermit probably has his. There’s no official way?”

“If you’re asking if it needs improvement, then yes, the Path of the Divine needs work, and I say this in the humblest way conceivable. It needs to be restructured in a way to generate proven results. I’ve been thinking about this since you mentioned it. I’ll continue to contemplate it. Anyway, to continue our discussion of the hermits. Baatar is the friendlier of the two, and he may have something we can use as a weapon considering this particular side of the peak is known for its snow lions.”

“So let’s go to him.”

“Sure, there may be some crevices we have to cross to get back on the main trail, but he’ll let us know what to expect, and…” Lhandon grinned.

“What?”

“We monks have a saying that always brings a smile to my face.”

“What’s that?”

“‘There’s a rune for that.’ Basically, whenever an obstacle presents itself, there’s usually a rune that can help one overcome it. But this saying is really tongue-in-cheek. The way is here,” he said, tapping on the side of his head. “The runes, the magical characters, are but a tool.”

“I still find it strange that I know them, yet I don’t read the language.”

He nodded. “It is rather odd, and I’d say it is something rebirth related. Remember, some of the characters we use in religious texts aren’t understood by the general public. There is a simplified version of the text as well, but these don’t work in casting the old runes. Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Lhandon said as he rolled his map up. He retrieved some food from his pack, bread and a carrot with dried meat wrapped around it. “It will get cold tonight,” he said. “I’d start a fire, but I think that would expose us to…”

“Spirits?”

“Bandits, spirits, snow lions, bears, the occasional mountain dragon. Did I mention wayward spirits? All those things. We’re too exposed here,” he said, looking toward the entrance of the cave. We were only about thirty feet from the ground, a frozen lake before us surrounded by snow-covered pines. “So be sure to get in your blanket after this, and do not get out of it until morning.”

“And if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Go before you bundle up. Trust me. Some say the cold itself is a demon, one that cannot be tamed. I don’t know if I agree with this, but there have been a few winter storms I’ve survived that seemed vindictive, downright petty at points. I’ll use a rune I know to warm tea in the morning and we’ll continue on our way. We should reach Baatar by the evening, get weapons from him, and continue on our way.”

“I guess now is as good of a time as any to ask what you think we should do once we confront Fist of Force and his treasure hunters.”

Lhandon nodded, his eyes darting away from me. “I have thought about it some, but not as much as I would have liked. I’ll keep it in mind tomorrow, and maybe Baatar will be able to offer us a little guidance. Your problem, or better, our problem, is that you don’t know how to activate the Power. It just activates on its own when you are in distress, which puts us at a disadvantage against Fist of Force.”

“So we’re going into this a bit blind?”

Lhandon shrugged. “Maybe ‘with blinders on’ would be a better way to describe it. We can see what’s coming at us head-on, but we’re unable to account for other angles. Yes, Baatar will help us, I’m certain of it.”

I did as Lhandon instructed and drained my bladder to the best of my ability before bundling up and falling asleep. The temperature dropped considerably as the night progressed, and I was glad to have the added warmth of the fur-lined sleeping bag that Lhandon had prepared.

Confused traveler...

I was dreaming when the words came to me, shaking me awake.

I blinked my eyes open to find a wisp of cold bending over me, its face androgynous, its eye sockets hollow.

“Who… ”

“Shhh…” said Lhandon, who was wide awake in his sleeping bag, staring at the thing. The cave was lit by a half-moon, everything a deep shade of ice, but nowhere near as dark as the hole I’d been kept in for three weeks.

Confused traveler, won’t you come out of your place of warmth to understand the cold?

“Don’t listen to it, Nick,” Lhandon said. “Begone, demon!”

The wisp of cold swirled above us.

Demon? I am no demon. I am a creation left behind by Baatar, Master of Ice.

“Baatar isn’t a Master of Ice,” Lhandon said. “Be gone with you!”

When was the last time you saw our master?

“Last time I saw Baatar…” Lhandon thought for a moment as a coldness crept down my spine. The spirit was hovering directly above me, and I had this sudden sense that it could have slipped into my sleeping bag and killed me if it so desired.

He really has progressed up here, which is why he sent me to you, the ghastly ice spirit said. He would like you to not bother him unless you trust him enough to step out into the cold.

I glanced to Lhandon to see a peculiar look coming across his face. “And Baatar is speaking through you right now, correct?”

Of course. I am his creation, sent from his high perch down to this cave to test your loyalty.

Lhandon smiled. “Good to know. But we have to be certain, you understand? There are numerous spirits that live in these mountains, some benevolent and others tricksters.”

The wintry spirit began to grow in size, snowflakes spinning around the crown of its head. You accuse the Master of Ice of being a trickster?

“Of course I don’t,” Lhandon said, “but we’ll have to perform a quick test anyway, especially if he’s listening right now.”

I could sense that the spirit’s eyes were narrowing on Lhandon.

“You have my word, Master of Ice’s creation,” the portly monk said, “just a quick test. Surely, a knowledgeable creation such as yourself would understand the need to be cautious.”

I suppose you are right. Let’s begin.

“I’m going to recite an old poem that Baatar taught me, it was written by a nalropa if that helps any. All I ask is that you finish the final line. It should be pretty easy, but as you said, Master of Ice’s creation, you are of the same mind as Baatar so it should be very easy for you.”

“What’s a nalropa?”

Lhandon turned his attention to me. “I’m glad you asked, Nick. A nalropa is someone who practices Divine Madness. Basically, they go crazy to understand the Way of the Immortals.”

Just get this over with! the spirit roared, snow flurries filling the inside of the cave.

“Yes…” Lhandon said through chattering teeth. “I’ll make it quick, I assure you, Master of Ice’s creation. Just let me remember it…”

I noticed Lhandon shift in his sleeping bag.

“Here goes, this should be very easy for you: ‘He who is without honesty has a dry mouth; he who is without spirituality makes no offerings; he who is without courage does not make a general. That is the Teaching of the Three Zeroes. Now, the sign of a rich man is a tight fist; the sign of an old man is a tight mind; the sign of a nun is a tight vagina. Which teaching is this?”

“Tight vagina?” I whispered to Lhandon, trying not to give him an incredulous look. There was more movement inside his sleeping bag as he looked up at the spirit, as if Lhandon was trying to get something out of his pocket.

This is what you’d like me to answer?

“Yes, Master of Ice’s creation, it is one of Baatar’s favorite poems to recite.”

The ice spirit thought for a moment. A rich man with tight fists, an old man with a tight mind and a nun with a tight vagina? Surely this is the Teaching of Old Age.

“I’m not afraid, spirit.” Lhandon’s eyes lit up as he lifted his hand out of his sleeping bag, a tiny glass jar between his fingers. “Be gone with you!”

The spirit screamed as it was sucked into the tiny glass jar, the temperature in the cave dropping to the point that I felt as if my heart was going to stop beating.

Suddenly, everything was normal again, still frigid, but not bitterly cold.

“It is the Teaching of the Three Constrictions,” Lhandon said as he showed me the glass jar, which contained a swirling energy within it.

“What… how did you do that?”

Lhandon shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past Baatar to create a being such as this, so I wanted to be sure before I cast a Rune of Inquiry. This was one of the early runes I learned, and because of my weight and the fact that I often delivered food to the hermits in these mountains—mostly because the Exonerated One thought it would help me shed a few pounds—I was transferred the ability to not only cast a Rune of Inquiry, but also condemn falsities to an object to deal with some of the spirits up here.”

“And they always play along?”

“Spirits are generally vain, so yes, they always do. I usually choose a poem or a saying to double-check that they aren’t trying to trick me. I wished it worked on mortals, but it does come with the added benefit of keeping the spirit on my person until I let it go, where it is forced to do my bidding until I free it.”

“That’s an incredible power,” I told him.

“My only problem is I’m too nice; I’ve caught other spirits before and let them go after keeping them for a small amount of time.”

“Let me guess… for karmic reasons?”

He nodded. “Precisely, and maybe stupidly. Those captured spirits would have come in handy during the attack at the monastery.” Lhandon shook the glass jar at me. “I’ll keep this one, though. It may be something we can use against Fist of Force and his treasure hunters. The spirit will be understandably angry after being kept in the glass jar; it should prove quite deadly.”

“I’m sure it isn’t happy.”

He swallowed hard. “But to protect the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom would have been the Exonerated One’s last wish; I will take the karmic repercussions for the lives that will be turned to ice once I unleash this spirit.”

Chapter Nineteen: Snow Lioness

The sun came into the cave gradually, Lhandon up long before I decided to get out of my sleeping bag. After a quick breakfast of bread and dried meat, we consulted the leather map he’d pulled from memory and continued on our way.

It was a beautiful walk that sometimes took us over ice, along pathways cut into the sides of rocky ravines, through tall pines and across a couple of streams. We were quiet as we walked, Lhandon doing a bit better pace-wise than he’d done before.

I saw in his movement the form of someone who wasn’t tied down by his weight, a springiness to his step even with the added pounds. But it took focus, and deep breaths, which allowed me plenty of time to let my thoughts drift as I kept up with him.

I was starting to notice two very different versions of myself: the one before my forced meditation, and the one after. I would think and experience things first in the way I was accustomed to, as I’d done all my life, and then reexamine it in a post-meditative way.

Because of this, I noticed it took me longer to come to grips with concepts and thoughts, but once I’d settled on something, it was with true clarity that I knew my reasoning had come from a different place.

A more balanced place?

Maybe. But there was more to it as well. I still continued to feel my body in an unusual way, to observe my surroundings with an appreciation that I’d never experienced before.

And while I would never look back on my forced meditation fondly, not with how it was thrust upon me, part of me was starting to be glad that I’d gone through it.

And as we continued, I couldn’t help but think of what my friends had gone through as well, if they were indeed alive.

If Hugo survived, he’d probably used his military training to gain some sort of tactical advantage. My only hope was that he hadn’t gone crazy. Hugo never was the same after his two tours of Afghanistan.

Bobby likely had a hard road ahead of him, especially with the fact that he’d been captured. I only hoped that he was still alive, because finding him was the next logical step for me on this journey.

And Tom? I had little hope for him, but maybe he had eventually made it to shore. So there was some hope there, even if it was hard to harbor.

“Ahead,” Lhandon said, stopping suddenly, his hand slipping into the front of his robe.

“I see it,” I told him as my eyes fell upon a beautiful snow lion, easily the size of a small pony. It was staggering along the path, wheezing, its eyes bloodshot, arrows sticking out of its side.

“Someone has injured it,” Lhandon said, the portly monk starting to move into the forest. “It’s still dangerous. Let’s go around it.”

“Or…” I brought my hand up.

Lhandon’s eyes went wide. “Nick, I implore you, these beasts will show no mercy to you, even if you heal one. They’ve been hunted by the people of Lhasa for too long; they kill on sight. The only reason we haven’t already been attacked is because it’s injured.”

But something about the way the snow lion was looking at me now made me feel as if it wouldn’t kill me, that I could heal it and we could both be on our way.

“Circle around if you’d like,” I told him, “this is something I have to do.”

“Nick…”

“Please, Lhandon, I think I can make a difference here.”

The snow lion fell to its side, its stomach pulsing, three arrows jutting from its gut. The blood had smeared across the lion’s white fur, some of it much darker than other portions.

Once I was a few feet closer to the lion it began to growl, and after that didn’t work it lifted its head and hissed at me, baring its incredible fangs. My hands still up, I traced the Healing Hand rune that Lhandon had taught me, Lha-Mo. Light radiated from my fingertips and cascaded down to my wrist.

I showed my hand to the snow lion. “I’m going to help you,” I said softly. “I’m not here to hurt you; I’m not interested in your fur.”

I reached for the creature and it snapped its teeth at me.

It tried to stand, but ended up falling to the side again, whimpering as I lowered my hand. The snow lion took short breaths as my glowing fingers met the side of its neck, as I moved to the first arrow.

“Nick, please be careful!”

I grabbed hold of the first arrow. “This is going to hurt,” I told the snow lion, “but I’ll heal the wound as soon as I pull the arrow out. Hit your tail against the ground twice if you understand me.”

I looked to its tail to see it lightly tap twice against the ground and settle. I also noticed something else: the lion was a lioness.

“Good girl.” I wrapped my hand around the base of the arrow and pulled it out, immediately healing the wound. The lioness started to growl again, gnashing her teeth. “Two more,” I told her as I moved to the next arrow.

I yanked this one out as well, and as soon as I healed the wound the lioness started to move.

“One more,” I whispered to her, not at all concerned by her size and how easy it would be for her to end my life. I pulled the last arrow out and immediately healed the wound, stepping back as soon as I was finished.

“Oh my,” Lhandon said as the lioness stood, her eyes narrowed on me.

“Now I’ll be on my way,” I started to tell her, holding both hands where she could see them.

She leaped onto me, Lhandon crying out as she did so.

Our bodies landed in a patch of snow and the lioness began to transform into an incredibly beautiful woman, with short white hair, lion ears, large breasts, and powerful hips.

“You saved me,” she said, straddling me.

“You’re… you’re human?”

The woman grabbed my crotch. “I will have your child,” she whispered, her eyes trained on me. “I owe you my life.”

Chapter Twenty: Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?

“Oh my,” Lhandon said as he caught his balance. “We had no idea…”

The woman turned to the portly monk and glared at him. “Do not disturb us.”

“That is not my intention, Lioness, but the road isn’t a proper place to…” Lhandon cleared his throat, “perform worldly deeds.”

“As flattering as this is,” I started to tell the woman, slowly lowering my hands to her hips.

“I owe you my life, I want to give you my life,” she purred, her ears twitching. She tightened her grip around me with her thighs. “What is your name?”

“Nick,” I said. “Do you mind letting me stand?”

“We can do it any way you’d like,” she said, “but he needs to go. No watchers.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the woman.

“Just let me up for a moment,” I said. “And you never told me your name.”

“Saruul,” she said as she lightly slipped off my waist. The lion woman stood in a slightly hunched way, as if she were ready to pounce, her tail hooked in the air behind her.

“As I said, I’m Nick, and that’s Lhandon,” I told her.

“You saved me. He did not.”

“Yes, a very black and white way to look at it, but he’s also the one that taught me how to heal with my hands.”

She looked to the monk. “He did?”

Lhandon nodded. “It’s true, Lioness, the technique was passed to me and I passed it to Nick, not for karmic reasons but because Nick is a friend.”

She nodded, her tail curling in the air. “Thanks for clarifying.”

“Who shot you?” I asked.

Her ears flitted back. “There was a small group of them, treasure hunters, led by a man with glowing fists.”

“Fist of Force came through here?” Lhandon asked. “How did he know there was a shortcut?”

“Fist of Force?” Saruul considered the name for a moment. “That would describe what he could do, but he wasn’t the one who did this,” she said, touching her side. While she had taken a human form, there was still a light tuft of white and black-striped fur over her skin, her breasts and sex exposed. “It was the ones who joined him. Treasure hunters and their crossbows. They had a prisoner with them, a woman who wore the clothing of the elite guard.”

Could it be Sona? I tilted my head at Saruul.

“You have a question, Nick?” she asked, taking a step closer to me.

“Describe the woman.”

“Tall and angry, dark hair, a bandana around her neck obscuring part of her face, clothing that was inappropriate for the mountains. There was something else about her as well. Her hands kept flaring up with a pink and purple energy, but she wasn’t able to actually use her power.”

“That sounds like Sona,” I told Lhandon, “the head of Madame Mabel’s elite guard. Am I crazy for thinking that? You mentioned they had a female prisoner with them back at the monastery…”

Lhandon brought his hand to his mouth. “It would make sense for the Exonerated One to hide one of the items necessary to unlock the gate protecting the Flaming Thunderbolt in plain sight.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “You said the items were some sand, a pendant, and a mummified hand or something, right? Why would Sona have any of those things?”

Lhandon nodded excitedly. “Let me ask you, Lioness, was the woman armed?”

“Yes, she had arms,” Saruul said, glancing from Lhandon to me. “Does he always ask stupid questions such as this?”

“He wants to know if she had a weapon,” I explained.

“No, of course not, she was a prisoner. But this Fist of Force person, he had a jagged sword that glowed with energy. I saw that part.”

“The Mummified Hand of Dolma,” Lhandon gasped.

“It wasn’t a hand,” I started to tell him.

“Of course it isn’t. The Mummified Hand of Dolma is the name of a weapon with a hilt made from the skin of a powerful witch. The Exonerated One told me that it glowed with pink and purple energy, and that this energy bound itself to the user, allowing the user to also cast spells and create armor by drawing on the power in the blade.”

“That resembles what I saw,” Saruul said, her ears twitching.

“It is exactly what you saw, Lioness, and it is why the head of Madame Mabel’s elite guard is so powerful in the first place.” An intense look came across his face. “Remember when I told you there were numerous ways to interpret the Way of the Immortals?” Lhandon asked me.

“Actually, Roger the Bird told me that.”

“You have a bird friend as well?” Saruul asked. “Male or female?”

“Male. ‘Roger’ is a man’s name.”

“I see,” Saruul said, turning away from me, and playfully flitting her tail against my arm.

“I told you about the various paths too,” Lhandon said, “and of the Path of Possession, which is a way to gain power by killing someone of a higher power. The Exonerated One…” He shook his head. “He meant well, but he did some terrible things in his youth and directly out of prison, one of those things was killing the man who held Dolma’s Mummified Hand.”

“The weapon.”

“Yes, Nick, the weapon. And I’m guessing…” He sighed with disappointment. “It makes sense that the Exonerated One would sell the weapon off to get funding to build the monastery. Yes, that would make total sense. And it would almost be an even karmic exchange, depending on who you asked.”

“Do you think he sold it off to Mabel?”

“Mabel’s father, perhaps.”

“And then they gave it to Sona for her to become the leader of her elite guard.”

“Precisely.”

“This conversation bores me,” Saruul said with a yawn.

“Maybe you could be of some use to us, Lioness.” Lhandon turned to her and offered the woman a heartfelt smile.

“Perhaps you should choose your words more carefully,” she told him, not returning the smile. “Your kind has been hunting mine for a millennium, forcing us to move higher and higher into the mountains.”

“I personally haven’t hunted a snow lion.”

“But you are Lhasan, are you not?”

“I am.”

“And how valuable is my fur?”

“As valuable as your teeth,” Lhandon said, “and your flesh itself. I do understand where you’re coming from, Lioness, and I’ll do my best to pre-observe my questions before I aim them at you.”

She chuckled. “Pre-observe your questions? A peculiar way to say that, but I understand what you’re suggesting. Now, what is it you want, and you, Nick.”

“Yes?”

“We have unfinished business.”

“I’m okay with that,” I told her, feeling a sudden attraction to the woman.

There was something primal about Saruul, sure, but she also exhibited the lithe movements of a feline, which shouldn’t have interested me yet had piqued my curiosity.

“We’re looking for a hermit in these parts named Baatar, who we hope will offer us guidance and weapons.”

“Weapons?”

Lhandon nodded. “We plan, or should I say, Nick plans to stop Fist of Force from opening the gate protecting the Flaming Thunderbolt. I will assist him in whatever way I can.”

“A hero and his support staff.”

“Sure, if it helps you to see it that way.”

She considered this for a moment, her tail curling in the air. “Yes, I will help you reach Baatar’s hermitage. There is a faster route than this one.”

“I can’t climb.”

“Clearly,” she told Lhandon with a chuckle. “It won’t involve any climbing.”

“And will you be joining us on our way to the gate?” Lhandon asked.

“Don’t press your luck,” she said, turning away from us. Saruul motioned us forward with her tail. “Try to keep up.”

The snow lioness moved at a slower pace than I would have anticipated, occasionally answering Lhandon’s questions and sometimes outright ignoring them. Yes, all snow lions and lionesses could turn into humans. Yes, they lived in hidden villages at the end of dangerous mountain passes. Yes, there was a rivalry between some of the tribes, and yes, their number one enemy was humans.

“Bears don’t turn into people, do they?” I asked her.

She paused at this question. “Why? Is there a bear I should know about?”

“One licked me and then attacked me.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I must say,” Lhandon told her once we came to a pile of rocks that was decorated with blue prayer flags, a burial site, “I am utterly fascinated by your people and would love the opportunity to visit one of these villages and learn about your beliefs, your lore, and perhaps your runes.”

“Offering yourself an open invitation, huh?” Saruul crouched, motioning for us to crouch as well as her ears straightened.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“Don’t worry, Nick, I’ll protect you,” she said as she lightly grazed my face with her tail. A wind howled over us, followed by a quick burst of freezing water on our heads and faces.

“What the hell was that?” I asked once it had passed.

“Spirits communing,” she said, flicking the water away. Most of it had already frozen.

“How vile!” Lhandon cried.

“And the water is…?”

“There are nasty, orgy-loving spirits in these mountains,” Saruul told me as we started to climb up a rocky path, Lhandon already having a tough time of it. “Just be glad they didn’t see us.”

It was another two hours before we came to the entrance of a cave, and by then the sun was setting, the temperature dropping by the minute.

“We’ll use this cave from here on out,” Saruul said as we entered the cramped space. “It’s a shortcut Baatar likes to use.”

“So you have met him?” Lhandon asked.

“No, but I can sense his presence. Others in my tribe have met him, but I usually stay away from this part of the mountain.”

“Why’s that?” I asked her as we ducked into a space with stalactites hanging from the roof of the cave. A white light quickly illuminated the space courtesy of Lhandon.

“That’s very bright,” Saruul said, shielding her eyes.

“We can’t see in the dark like you,” he reminded her.

“I could see just fine,” I told him.

“I just keep learning so much about you,” Saruul said as we moved into a larger cavern with beautiful paintings on one of the walls.

“Wait,” Lhandon said, turning his glowing orb toward the paintings. “Isn’t it magnificent?”

Depicted on the wall was a picture of a seated monk with clouds swirling around his head.

“I’ve seen better,” Saruul says. “If you lose weight, you’d be able to climb to some of the higher peaks where the best hermits have taken refuge. There are lion hermits as well, and they all have a keen eye for art. It is a true pleasure to witness their creations.”

The cave eventually opened onto a narrow walkway. We came to a pole sticking out of the ground, prayer flags hanging from it.

“Baatar’s home,” Saruul said.

“He’s… he’s not here,” Lhandon told her as we all looked at the darkened cave.

“No, but I have no control over that.”

“Let’s stay here for the night,” I told Lhandon. “We can find weapons in the morning and you can leave him a note, thanking him for letting us borrow whatever we find.”

“Agreed, and I’d much rather stay in his cave, knowing that he has swept it of evil spirits, than I would the larger cave with the painting,” Lhandon said with a shiver. “It is getting very cold. We should get inside.”

Once we were in, Lhandon found the space where Baatar usually had his fires. There was dry wood waiting for us, and as he started the fire and prepared a meal, Saruul moved to the rock I was sitting on.

“I am serious about our union,” she said to me, an intense look to her eyes. “You saved me, and for that, I want to have your child.”

“I really don’t know what to make of that,” I told her.

“You don’t have to make anything of it. I just want you to know my intentions. As soon as the monk falls asleep, I will come to you. Will you wait for me?”

I stared at her curiously for a moment, not able to stop the smile from spreading across my face. “I will.”

“Good.”

The thought dawned on me that this could be a trick; it could be just like the bandit’s daughters. It also struck me as odd that sex was used as a form of payment in Lhasa, which wasn’t a custom I was really used to.

Not that I minded.

There was a strong attraction between the two of us, an almost tangible energy. I’d felt it with women in the past, and every time I’d acknowledged this feeling, it usually was to my benefit.

At least during the heat of things.

There was always the morning after for the situation to sour, but for some reason, I didn’t feel like that was the case here.

“You’re quiet,” she said, scooting closer to me.

“You’re not going to try to kill me after this happens, are you?” I asked her point-blank.

She started laughing hard enough for Lhandon to notice. The jolly monk grinned at us before returning to the food he was cooking. After Saruul stopped, he went back to cooking up a stew with some of the dried meat he’d brought along.

“That’s a different tribe,” she finally said.

“Good to know.”

“I’ll play nice.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“And then I’ll leave.”

“You won’t stick around with us?” I asked, feeling a wave of disappointment come over me.

“Likely not. The quest is yours, not mine.”

“We may die,” I told her.

“In that case, I’d better make tonight count.”

“I’m going to try to convince you to stick around,” I told her. “You know that, right?”

“I’m not easily persuaded, and once my mind is set, my mind is set.” Saruul traced her finger against the top of my hand for a moment. “Just be ready when I come for you.”

Chapter Twenty-One: Making a Night of It

“You waited up for me,” Saruul said as she crouched before me.

I could hear Lhandon snoring to my right, the monk occasionally whispering words to himself in his sleep.

“I sort of had to, didn’t I?” I whispered to her.

“There is something unique about you, something that really tells me that you’re an outsider,” she said, still crouched, her tail hanging over her head. “Are we going to do this here? My people don’t follow the Lhasa religions, but I do think it would be disrespectful for us to perform this act so close to the monk.”

“Do you have a better place?”

“I wouldn’t suggest leaving if I didn’t,” she said with a purr. “Just a bit deeper into the cave, really. I already checked it out. It’s actually quite beautiful. A bit of moonlight gets into the space, making everything seem blue.”

“Right,” I said as I slipped out of my sleeping bag. The cold instantly hit me, but I ignored it, intrigued by the lioness.

I followed closely behind her, watching Saruul’s form in the dark, always able to see her white ears, the end of her tail, the sway of her hips. We turned to the left, making our way up until we came to another part of the cave illuminated just as she had suggested.

“I probably should have brought my sleeping bag,” I told her.

“Stay here and I will return with it,” she said, taking off.

She was only gone for a couple of minutes, and while I waited for her I took in the space, noticing the way that the stalactites sparkled in the moonlight, how this area gave me a serene, yet melancholy feeling.

There was something sacred about it, which only made me question what we were planning to do.

I wasn’t a monk, nor had I taken some type of vow of celibacy. I didn’t believe in the religion here anyway, or at least I didn’t think I did. I hadn’t actually thought as much about that as I should, even with the fact I’d been kept underground for three weeks.

And rather than going down that rabbit hole, one in which introspection took over a spur of the moment action, I simply took a breath in and settled my thoughts, returning to the now.

It was only a few moments later that Saruul returned, arranging my sleeping mat on the ground.

“And you’re sure about this, right?”

“I’m the one propositioning you,” she reminded me. “You have a courage that no mortal has ever shown to me. Any outsider, including your monk friend, would have either circled around me or…” She nodded. “I know what I’m worth to your people.”

“Those aren’t my people.”

“Clearly, and I know what I’m worth to those people. There are many who would have been able to purchase a home with what they could have stripped from my carcass. Think about that.”

“I would rather not. I like you just the way you are.”

“You prefer me in this form?”

She moved closer to me, placing a hand on my chest.

“You are beautiful in both forms, but obviously, this one suits me more.”

Saruul laughed. “I like your sense of humor. Maybe after you finish this little quest of yours, you will come back to my village and meet my people.”

“Something tells me that they would not welcome me with open arms,” I said, placing my hands on her waist.

“No, they would probably try to kill you, but after I told them of what had happened, and after my father got involved, they would behave. There would be a few that were jealous; it’s the nature of my people. But if they tried anything I would kill them, or you would with this new weapon that you plan to get, the one you and the monk spoke of earlier while we walked.”

“The Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom.”

“Yes, such a peculiar name.”

“I don’t know if I’ll get the weapon yet or not,” I told her honestly. “Fire swords aren’t really my thing.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the weapon once you realize the good that you can do with it.”

“Weapons for good?”

“What else are they useful for if not for the greater good?” she said, rising up to the tips of her toes and kissing me.

I was warmed by her presence, an energy swelling between us.

There was a real attraction here, something powerful, primordial, and it wasn’t long before we had both gotten down to my sleeping mat.

She had me out of my robes in a matter of seconds, her hand coming to my face, grabbing my throat as she kissed her way down my chest.

She looked up at me and pressed me onto my back, climbing on top of me, straddling me in the way that she had when we first met.

There was no more foreplay.

Saruul grabbed my member and rubbed it against the front of her sex, moaning, looking down and smiling at me as she slowly led me in.

Then we were moving, Saruul fully into the action, her hips doing all the work.

I blinked my eyes shut, enjoying the way it felt, inhaling the energy that we were sharing, the moment we were creating.

The lioness smiled down at me, confident as she pressed her hands onto my chest and lifted her legs, squatting, now moving her ass up and down, her eyes narrowed on me.

We went at it like this for another couple of minutes until she tired, letting me take charge. She got onto her stomach in a sphinx pose, her elbows propping her up as I entered her from behind, her tail curling in the air, part of the motion that we were creating together.

I moved my hand to her neck, to her chin, my finger grazing against her lips.

She bit down on my finger, sucking it and moaning as she did so.

I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d orgasmed.

I continued going even though I’d already finished. Saruul made a high-pitched squeak, and with a final breath out I collapsed on top of her, kissing the back of her neck, still inside her.

“That was fun,” she whispered.

“Worth the wait?”

“Maybe, but it would’ve been fun to do it in the road.”

Chapter Twenty-Two: Steam Monk

I awoke alone the next morning, tucked under the sleeping bag. Saruul was gone.

Just as she said, I thought, lying on my side for a moment.

I wanted to say goodbye to her, and I wanted to see the strange woman one more time.

I still wasn’t at the point that I would say that Lhasa had grown on me, but since being freed from my imprisonment, I was starting to like the place more.

There was so much magic and mystery here, all operating alongside wonderful things that did not exist in my world. Maybe I would have felt differently if I had been forced underground for longer, but getting a second chance, as it were, had really lit a fire in my soul to get to the bottom of all this.

Once I located my friends, if they were still alive, we would try to figure out what had caused these portals in the first place.

With this thought in mind, I took my seat, watching the sun on the horizon peeking through the same holes the moon had come through last night. Eventually, Lhandon found me, the portly monk breathing heavily as he made his way up the ramp that led to this space.

“I knew you were around,” he said, catching his breath. “I knew that you wouldn’t abandon me here.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “Saruul and I had unfinished business. We didn’t want that business to disturb your sleep.”

“I see,” he said, noticing that I was sitting on top of my sleeping bag and my shirt was off. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Sure did,” I told him. “But she’s gone now, and who knows if I’ll ever see her again.”

“Surely she told you a way to call her back to your side,” he said as he adjusted his robes.

“Actually…”

My jaw dropped as a memory came to me, something that had happened early in the morning. Was I making it up? No, it had to be true, I distinctly remembered her waking me up, whispering something in my ear, a way for me to contact her.

“So she did, didn’t she?”

“She did,” I said with a nod. “But I don’t see how that would call her to my side.”

Lhandon shrugged. “Maybe it’s something you can test out later. I was planning to make breakfast, if you would care to join me.”

“Definitely.” I got to my feet and rolled up my sleeping bag.

Once I was set, we made our way down the ramp and back to the fire pit, fresh wood ready to go.

Lhandon worked on the fire while I packed up the rest of our campsite, not touching anything that belonged to Baatar, the hermit owner of the cave.

Coming back in with a pot full of snow, Lhandon put it on the fire, using a cup to go and get more snow to add to it.

The boiling water made a bit of steam, and just as Lhandon was returning, a face began to form, the steam circulating back around to strengthen the image.

“Master of Ice?” Lhandon asked

The face glared at Lhandon. “Who told you that you could use my cave?”

Lhandon bowed to the steam. “The Monastery of the Exonerated One was attacked, and all the monks, including the Exonerated One himself, were killed by treasure hunters. We came here seeking advice, and possibly a weapon or two, so we can defend the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom.”

“And who told you I was a Master of Ice?” the cloud of steam asked. “I am but a monk, no different than yourself.”

“So humble of you, Master of Ice. We encountered a spirit,” Lhandon explained, “and this trickster spirit claimed that you created it. I didn’t know if you had been given this honorary title or not.”

“Absolutely not,” the steam said in a billowing voice. “I prefer my real name, Baatar the Eternal Hermit.”

“Yes, Eternal Hermit,” Lhandon said, bowing again. “I’m sorry, I mean we’re sorry to disturb your dwelling.”

“And who are you?” Baatar’s steam face turned to me. He continued to billow out of the pot, practically a cloud of smoke by this point.

“My name is Nick Barnette, and I’m an outsider.”

He laughed. “Clearly. With a name like Nick, I’m assuming you are not from this world.”

“I’m from a planet called Earth…”

“I’m not interested in where you’re from, at least not now,” the hermit said. “Maybe if we have a chance to meet in the future, I will write down your story, but for now, you’ve come and disturbed my cave, waking me from a deep meditation.”

“Of course,” Lhandon said. “You’re in this very mountain!”

“I am indeed. Almost at the very tip, in a cave that is only reachable by flight.”

“You can fly?” I asked him.

“You can have relations with a lioness in my humble abode?” he asked me. “As unique as you may think you are, Nick, you still know very little about the creatures of this world, and their capabilities.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him.

“Don’t be,” he said, laughing again. “Had I been your age, I may have done the same thing. But now I know better. While it may be interesting to see what the union between a Golden One and a lioness spawns, it could also prove troublesome.”

“You believe he is a Golden One?” Lhandon asked, wide-eyed.

I’d heard the phrase several times, but in no way would I use it to describe myself. I could tell it meant something to Lhandon, his hand coming to his chin as he considered the possibilities.

“I assumed he may be a nalropa, but not a Golden One…”

The steam nodded. “Of the five that were brought to our world, I believe he may be the one that can liberate the most, to right some of the evils in Lhasa and strengthen our people for the coming days. Perhaps you will be able to commune with the Overworld and the Underworld, bringing about a new age.”

“You know about my friends?” I asked.

“Three are your friends, one is your enemy, correct?”

I nodded. “But how? How can you know all of this?”

“Being at the top of this mountain gives me an interesting view of the world,” Baatar said. “I’ve lived more lives inside my head then I could ever get down on parchment, and I’ve foreseen your coming. Nevertheless, there are great obstacles in your way, and before you can truly take the mantle of a Golden One, and lead this kingdom to heights it could never imagine on its own, you’ll have to cultivate an energy the likes of which you have never experienced.”

“I haven’t decided what I want to do yet,” I told him honestly.

“I can appreciate that. You’re not from here, and your goal is to find your friends again, to get back to where you are from. It’s a very human instinct.”

“We have come here seeking weapons,” Lhandon said.

“I do not have weapons for you, but I do have something else. For you, Nick, I have a rune that will help you preserve yourself in the coming battles.” Baatar’s lips parted, and as if he were trying to blow a smoke ring, a character appeared.

“Ma-Gyal,” Lhandon whispered.

Baatar continued. “You already know the characters passed down from the ancient texts, even if you don’t know that you know them, but this one should be easy for you considering it borrows from the characters you’ve already learned. Ma-Gyal will allow you to absorb three strikes, no matter how strong. To draw it, start on the far end…”

As he spoke, the steam disappeared and another puff took shape, the characters forming again. It looked like a very artistic rendition of the number three with a small circle under one of the curves. That, or the number two with something attached to the top of it and a circle under the bracket it created.

“Right to left, and finish the character before you add the full moon,” he said, referring to the circle. “But remember, it will only absorb three blows. After that… Let’s just hope you finish the fight before you get to that point.”

“I understand,” I said, and for some reason, every time I shut my eyes I was able to see the rune as if it had been imprinted on my brain. “And how often am I able to use it?”

“Once per day, unfortunately.”

“Does it have a name?” Lhandon asked.

“No. I created it and I’ve yet to name it. When you move to a higher stage, you may be able to use it more often,” he told me. “While you have exhibited powers beyond any Broken Sword, you do not know the lore, nor do you know the significance of the Way of the Immortals, which is the chosen religion of these lands. Because of the power you have exhibited, I would personally classify you as a Wheel with a Rusty Axle, a basic cultivator, but that is only because of your unique ability. Most practitioners, if not all, will never get a taste of controlling reality. So you may exhibit the Power, but it’ll take some time before you master it.”

“I will do my best to instruct him, Baatar,” Lhandon promised him.

“Good. Now, your company has interrupted my meditation long enough, so I’ll move on to you, Lhandon, and then we’ll be done with all this. You too will play a role in protecting the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom. Do you see the prayer beads I’ve draped over the rock on the other side of the room?”

Lhandon turned, spotting the prayer beads. He retrieved them and brought the beads closer to the steam.

“Yes, those are the ones. This is a very unique strand of prayer beads, something given to me by a hermit from the Kingdom of Paro. Each of these prayer beads can turn a hundred times its size once it is plucked from the string that keeps it attached to the leather. They may seem small now, but if you toss one, it will quickly grow to the size of a large boulder, much larger than yourself.”

Lhandon’s cheeks turned red. “I understand.”

“Since you don’t really possess a fighting ability, this will give you a way to assist Nick.” Baatar took a deep breath, a cloud of steam exiting his lips.

“Thank you, Eternal Hermit.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, trying not to sound awkward and failing.

The cloud of steam yawned. “Have your breakfast, and get to the gate. May you continue to cultivate your powers, to better understand the Path of the Divine. If you do succeed, it is your duty, Nick, to take the Flaming Thunderbolt. I wasn’t planning on both of you showing up in my cave last night, and you disturbing me by fornicating with the lioness. But this is the path I was presented with, and it is the path that you are being presented with. No more questions; take the sword. Once I’m done with my meditation I will come to your monastery, Lhandon.”

“You plan…” Lhandon gulped. “You plan to come to my monastery?”

“The Exonerated One has died with mixed honor, leaving but one monk to plant a new garden. Make it through today, and I’m sure a title will be given to you, something you can be proud of. Perhaps you will also find ways to gain the support of the locals, to further their teachings as well. It is time the Path of the Divine gets some structure, something that will help it spread, proving it is the most beneficial way to use and understand the Way of the Immortals. Good day, good karma, and good luck to the both of you.”

And with that, the cloud of steam was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Fist of Force

We reached the hills beneath the gate. It was clear by the footprints in the snow that Fist of Force and his treasure hunter henchmen had already reached the space.

We were in for a fight.

“Not much further now,” Lhandon said, catching his breath. “Just around these rocks. I would bet they’re there now trying to figure out the puzzle.”

“You mean they don’t know how to actually open the gate?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t able to hear what the Exonerated One told them, if anything. But I don’t think he would have volunteered that information, so no, I don’t think they’ve figured it out.”

“Let me see if I can sneak around this rock a bit and get a better view,” I told him.

“Be careful,” he said. “We’re too close to make a mistake now.”

I started to move my way around the rock that was shaped like one of the Easter Island faces. Everything was icy, but I was determined to get a better view of what was happening, and once I made my way up just a little further around it, I was finally able to see what was happening on the other side.

There were eight treasure hunters gathered around a female prisoner.

Sona.

It was clearly her, the woman with a pink and purple energy radiating off her hands, weak, barely clothed, sitting in the snow with her head bowed forward. Fist of Force was in front of the men, wearing a fur overcoat with a hood on it, a frustrated look on his face as he tried to figure out how to use the items.

I saw a bowl made of stone and a pillar with several stone hooks.

Other than that, there was an enormous gate, easily thirty feet high with barbs along its edge. There were also a host of ladders discarded near the gate, telling me that many had tried to scale it, and that none had ever succeeded.

As quietly as possible, I shimmied my way back down the rock to find Lhandon waiting for me.

“Well?”

“Nine men in total and they have a prisoner, the head of Madame Mabel’s elite gaurd, Sona.”

“They’ve made no progress on the gate, then.”

“Nope, they’re just standing around it.”

He shook his head. “They’re doing it at the wrong time of day.”

“What do you mean?”

“The gate can only be opened if the moon and the sun are in the sky at the same time, so at dusk, or early in the morning. I suppose it’s possible for someone to do it during the day if the moon is visible, but the traditional time to do it would be morning or dusk.”

“And how does that work?”

“Put the Sand of Armeck in the bowl, and hang the Mirrored Pendant of Danzen off one of the hooks. You have to aim the moon’s reflection at the sand, and once that is set, you simply stab it with the Mummified Hand of Dolma. Easy.”

“I don’t know if I would describe that as easy,” I told him.

He chuckled softly. “That is one of the easier ways to open a forbidden gate in this kingdom, if you ask me. You should hear some of the other ones.”

“I’m sure they would make me cringe.” I settled my breath.

“Perhaps. Since they will be at it all day, maybe we could just rest in a nearby cave, waiting for them to give up. The treasure hunters will be vulnerable at night.”

“That’s true,” I told him, and just as those words left my lips, one of the treasure hunters stepped around the rock to take a piss.

I tackled him to the ground, but he had already let out a yelp before I could place a hand over his mouth. He tried to buck me off, both of us rolling in the snow for a second.

More of the treasure hunters came running, each with a weapon drawn, a few already taking Lhandon prisoner. Eventually, I got on top of the guy and sunk a fist into his face, only to be pulled off by one of the other treasure hunters, my arms yanked behind my back as two men prevented me from fighting any further.

I tried kicking my way out of it, only to get a knee to the groin which triggered an unthinkable pain through my body.

Now on the verge of vomiting, and trying to control the pain surging through me from the groin shot, I was dragged around the rocks and deposited in front of Fist of Force.

“What do we have here?” he asked. The man’s face was partially concealed by his hood, his eyes beady and bright.

“You…” I heard Sona say. The woman was looking up at me, blinking, seemingly regaining some of her strength judging from the way she pushed herself off the ground.

“What’s your name?” Fist of Force asked me.

“Nick Barnette, nice to meet you,” I told the man looming over me.

He shook his head. “Clearly the name of an outsider, and most definitely the name of a fool. I suppose I’ll make this quick then.”

“You aren’t even going to give me the opportunity to fight you?” I asked him. “Or are you just going to sic your thugs on me?”

“My thugs? These are some of the best treasure hunters in the Kingdom of Lhasa.”

“They seem kind of sloppy to me,” I told him as I got to my feet, lifting my fists, ignoring the pain from being kneed in the groin.

“You can’t be serious.”

“About fighting you? Or about how sloppy some of these guys look?”

“Very well. I will enjoy this more than I thought I would,” he said, a light spiraling down his right fist.

“You killed everyone at the temple,” Lhandon shouted, anger spreading across his normally serene face. “Are you not aware of the karmic repercussions of what you’ve done?”

“Your petty understanding of karma is what has kept you oppressed all of your life,” Fist of Force said, his eyes still focused on me. “You will die here today, monk, just like your brethren, and just like the strange outsider that you have convinced to take up your cause.”

My hand at my side, I quickly traced up the rune that Baatar had taught me, aware that it had worked once I felt a buzzing in my arms.

Hopefully, my ability would come to me; if not, at least I’d be able to block his first three strikes.

A fist came out of nowhere, a left hook that would have knocked my skull off had it not been for the speed of my arm protecting my head and absorbing the blow. It was powerful enough to toss me backward into the snow, my feet cutting two lines at least a foot in length.

“Interesting,” Fist of Force said, loosening up his hands. He brought them back up and lunged for me again, my power kicking in just in time.

It was as if he was moving a hundred times slower than he normally would have, an angry look on his face as he came forward with his right hand, a force oscillating around his knuckles.

I had plenty of time to get behind him, where I delivered my own punch to the back of his head, reality speeding up as the man stumbled forward.

“No!” he screamed to the other treasure hunters, all of whom had moved into position to attack me, a few of them lifting crossbows. Fist of Force slammed into me with a punch, my arms barely able to stop his attack.

I had one more block left.

I had to use it wisely.

Time was no longer mine to control. As he came in for a third strike, my arms naturally moved into place to block him.

He stumbled backward, recovering and quickly returning with a punch that shattered my forearm, sending me flying backward into a rock.

I fell to the snow, pain rippling through me as I tried to push myself up.

All I could think of was calling Saruul, my lips opening to whisper her name, just as she had told me to do.

I barely saw the tropical burst of color zip through the air, slamming into Fist of Force.

The man staggered for a moment and fell to his knees, the hilt of a dagger jutting out of his chest.

“Roger?” I asked as the bird fluttered around Fist of Force’s head. “What… what are you doing here?”

An enormous wrecking ball took my attention from the bird to the treasure hunters, four of them crushed by Lhandon’s attack.

This gave Sona the moment she needed to jump into the fight. The scantily clad woman took out the feet of one of the treasure hunters and rolled on top of him, bashing him with a headbutt that ultimately knocked her out too.

This left three treasure hunters still alive. Roger flew over to one of them and fluttered around his face, confusing him, giving me the moment I needed to trace up the rune that gave me the Healing Hand power.

Wincing, I quickly brought my free hand over my shattered arm, the one that Fist of Force had pulverized.

The bone clicked back into place, the muscles tightening, the pain dissipating.

I was up on my feet in a matter of moments, sucking in a deep breath, and taking off toward the two treasure hunters who were about to engage Lhandon. My power came to me again as my hand flattened into a chop, which I brought down against one of their backs, the man spilling forward.

Surprised, the other tried to cut me down with his sword, time slowing to a standstill as I ducked his blade, coming back with an uppercut that sent an arc of blood into the air.

Realizing that there wasn’t time to waste, I grabbed one of their swords and drove it into the first man’s body, pulling it out and digging it into the second.

Savage.

“We have to kill them all,” I told Lhandon, catching my breath. “Otherwise…”

“I already took out four of them,” he said, “and Sona took out another.”

“I counted eight… ”

Wham!

Something clapped against my back, knocking the wind out of me. The final treasure hunter stood over me with a large bludgeoning object, spikes on its end. I could feel my muscles screaming, blood seeping out of my robes.

I rolled to my side, trying to place my healing hand on my back as best I could, sucking in deep inhalations as I watched Roger distract the man again.

Lhandon charged forward, connecting with the treasure hunter and knocking the wind out of him.

Pushing myself off the ground, and ignoring my own blood’s vibrancy against the fresh snow, I limped over to the two.

“Move, Lhandon,” I shouted, and as he did so, I drove the blade deep into the treasure hunter’s chest, the man’s angry eyes locking on to me as he let out his last breath.

I wasn’t done yet.

I made my way over to Sona, carefully lifting the woman off the treasure hunter she had headbutted.

I brought my blade into his chest as well.

“That’s all of them,” I said, catching my breath. I continued healing up until I was nearly blown aside by a cold gust of wind, a hailstorm whipping down another hill.

Fear came across Lhandon’s face as he shouted to me, “It’s an ice spirit! Get to the nearest cave!”

He pointed at one of the caverns we’d seen earlier, not twenty yards away from our current location.

My first instinct was to grab the items that Fist of Force had collected.

Luckily, Roger already had the bag of sand as well the pendant. The only thing missing was the weapon.

Fighting the storm, and screaming for Roger to go to the cave, I made my way over to Fist of Force. I dropped before him and took the Mummified Hand of Dolma from its sheath, noticing that the blade had a pinkish hue along its edge.

I stuffed it in my own sheath, even though it didn’t fit correctly.

I saw Sona’s toppled body slowly being buried in snow. I made my way over to it, lifting the woman over my shoulder. The wind howled in my ears, its chill striking me to the very core as I stumbled toward the cave opening.

“I’ve got you,” I told her as the storm picked up, shrieking all around me.

I barely made it.

I knew as soon as I reached the entrance, and as soon as a huge gust of snow followed by a small avalanche burst past me that I was incredibly lucky.

I set Sona down, Lhandon taking over and pulling her deeper into the cave. My hand on the cave wall, I started following after Lhandon, Roger eventually landing on my shoulder.

“Happy to see me?” he asked, his beak chattering.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I told him.

“I’m just glad to be owed a favor,” he said as we progressed deeper into the cavern, the echo of the wind reaching us.

It was as if the snowstorm was a school of banshees, all competing to scream louder than the other. I was glad that we were away from it, that it didn’t seem to be coming down into the cavern.

“I’ll start a fire,” Lhandon said once we reached a wide-open space. “There must be something around here to burn.”

“I’ll check,” Roger told me.

“Can you understand him?” I asked Lhandon as the bird took off.

“No, but you apparently can, and that’s all that matters.”

“I’ve got something,” Roger called from the other side of the cavern.

I joined the bird and found a pair of skeletons still in their armor, along with a wooden treasure chest.

“We can break the chest apart for the wood,” Roger said. “Maybe we could burn their bones as well.”

“Let’s try the wood first,” I said, opening the chest.

A white snake with red eyes jumped out of the treasure chest. Roger picked it off in the air, clamping down on its neck and killing the creature.

“How would a snake survive all the way up here?” I asked, still shaken by the sudden strike.

“You found a snow snake?” Lhandon called over to me. “That’s a sign of luck… unless it kills you.”

Roger flew the snake over to Lhandon and dropped it before him.

“Fascinating,” Lhandon said, examining the snake for a moment. He looked up at Roger. “I can’t understand you, bird, but I do appreciate your assistance.”

“His name is Roger,” I told Lhandon after I’d dragged the chest over to him. “You didn’t happen to grab one of the swords back there, did you?”

Lhandon shook his head.

“Damn, that would have made this easier.”

I didn’t dare use the Mummified Hand of Dolma on the wood.

I could already feel a strange energy radiating from the blade, which was why I unsheathed it after I brought the treasure chest over to Lhandon, placing the blade on a flat rock.

I wanted to get it away from me.

“It’s cursed, you know,” he said, eyeing it suspiciously.

“I can sense something is wrong with it.”

“Please, take one of the cloths from my bag and cover it for now. I’d prefer not to look at it.”

“Same,” I told the monk as I covered the weapon.

I returned with a large stone to start breaking apart pieces of the wooden treasure chest. I thought about using my foot, but considering I wore leather shoes with thin soles, I figured it would be smarter to use a stone.

Roger landed near the fire pit, hopping around as he spoke to me excitedly.

“You won’t believe what I’ve been through,” he said as I started working on the treasure chest.

“I’m just surprised you made it all the way up here.” I managed to break a hole in the chest and used my hand to rip a piece of wood out.

“You’re telling me! I guess I should get to the part that matters to you: I took care of your friend,” he said excitedly.

I paused. “Evan?”

“Bearded man, kind of fat like the monk over here, looked like an outsider. I saw him down with Madame Mabel’s forces. I waited until he was sleeping, and then I broke in through his window, taking his eye. I would have gotten both eyes too, but he locked his window after that.”

“You stole his eye?”

“What’s the bird telling you?” Lhandon asked. “I mean Roger, what’s Roger telling you?”

“I’ll catch you up in a moment,” I told him, asking Roger to continue his story about Evan.

“He’s missing an eye now, which can’t be nice. I got him good, Nick.”

“It looks like I really owe you then.”

“But he’s still alive. I wasn’t able to use the dagger on his chest.”

“That’s fine; I can fight my own battles.”

“Are you sure about that?” He hopped to my left and starting to pick up a few of the splinters that I’d chipped off.

Roger flew them to the fire pit and returned.

“I didn’t have a weapon up there,” I reminded him.

“And that’s why you have come here, right? The Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom is behind those walls. If ever there was a blade for someone like you, an outsider with a heart, it would be that weapon.”

“I still haven’t decided,” I told him as I broke more of the wood into pieces.

“You’re talking about the Flaming Thunderbolt?” Lhandon asked. “Did I guess that right? I thought it was decided upon: you will take it.”

“I just don’t know if I’m the right person to possess such a power,” I said.

“Your humbleness is very karmic of you,” Lhandon said with a smile. “But let’s be honest about what we’ve done here today, and what you’re planning to do,” he said, dropping his voice, “you will need a real weapon.”

“Aware.”

“And how’s the woman involved?” Roger asked, nodding his beak toward Sona.

“The treasure hunters needed her weapon to open the gate. I guess they took her prisoner as well.”

“What a fight that must have been,” Roger said. “You’re probably going to want to get the Flaming Thunderbolt before she wakes up; I don’t know how happy she’ll be once she knows that she’s been rescued by an escaped slave. An escaped slave that belongs to her master. Come to think of it, she’s a slave too. Just one with more glory than your regular slave.”

“Good point,” I told him.

“And what do you plan to do with her after she wakes?”

“I really don’t know. Lhandon? Any ideas?”

“About what?” the monk asked.

“That’s right, you can’t understand him. What should we do with her once I have retrieved the blade?”

“I believe the most karmically just thing to do would be to give her the blade and let her go.”

“Did you give this monk some chung or something?” Roger laughed. “That’s an idea fit for a true idiot!”

“Careful,” I told the bird.

“Just hear me out here, and you can tell him everything I’m about to say. You have the head of Madame Mabel’s elite guard with you. That’s her right there, the head of all of Mabel’s guard. And you, Nick from Massachusetts, have rescued her. Why don’t you use this to get into Madame Mabel’s good graces? Then, you can find your friends, and maybe even think of a way to deal with this Evan fellow.”

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“And there’s more,” Roger said. “There’s been talk of other outsiders, perhaps those are the friends you mentioned to me. I’ve forgotten their names.”

“Tom, Bobby, and Hugo,” I said. “You heard about them?”

“I heard the soldiers discussing one of them. Which one was captured again?”

“Bobby was captured. Tom disappeared into the Sea of Lhasa, and Hugo went in after him.”

“And this Hugo one, he’s the one that was a former soldier or something, correct?”

“That’s right,” I told the bird.

“Like I said, I heard about the one that was captured, Bobby. But I also heard from a couple of birds that just showed up from Jonang that an outsider has appeared. A powerful one. Maybe this is your other friend.”

“Do you think that Madame Mabel is holding Bobby?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but I see that you have some leverage here through this woman, plus you have an enemy in Madame Mabel’s ranks. There’s got to be an angle here.”

“I truly wish I could hear the conversation you are having,” Lhandon said as he piled up enough wood to start a fire. It wasn’t long before there was smoke, then a crackle, a flame igniting.

“In a nutshell, Roger is saying that we should use Sona to our advantage.”

“Use Sona?” Lhandon whispered.

“Why not?” I asked. “We technically saved her; maybe this would get us an in with Madame Mabel. In fact…” I smiled at Lhandon. “Maybe there’s a way this could benefit you as well.”

“Me?” Lhandon took a deep breath in. “I’m listening, but please be aware that I do not like taking advantage of those who need our help.”

“This lady doesn’t need the fat monk’s help,” Roger said, laughing again. “She would fillet him if she had her sword right now, and leave his flesh here for the wolves.”

“What did he say?” Lhandon asked.

“He’s just suggesting that you not be so humble, that we acknowledge an opportunity before us, and take advantage of that opportunity. I don’t know how we could use her in the end, but I do agree with one thing.”

“What’s that?” Lhandon asked.

“We need to get the Flaming Thunderbolt before she wakes up.”

“But there’s a snowstorm out there now, and we have no way of knowing if she will rest through the night…”

“Come on, Lhandon, work with me here,” I said. “You must know a rune that will keep her asleep until morning when hopefully the snowstorm has passed and we are able to take the weapon.”

“Perhaps.” He furrowed his brow, a frown taking shape across his face. “But it is a magic that I’m not too accustomed to using. That doesn’t mean I’m not aware of it, and I’ve memorized all the runes that would allow me to cast such a spell.”

“Is this guy always so contemplative?” Roger asked.

“He’s a monk,” I reminded the bird.

“A deeply troubled one, it seems.”

Lhandon bit his lip. “I do agree with what you are saying, Nick. It’s important that we have no obstacles in obtaining the weapon. If she knows what this is about, and why she was captured, she too may want the blade for herself. She may already know why she was captured, then again, the treasure hunters would be smart to leave her in the dark. A member of Mabel’s elite guard with both the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom and the Mummified Hand of Dolma would be a true force to be reckoned with.”

“Okay, then let me handle the fire,” I said as I moved over to Lhandon, more wood in my hands. “You do whatever it is you need to do to get this rune in order. We need to cast it on her soon, and hopefully, the conditions will be just right in the morning for us to get the moon and the sun together at the same time.”

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Sword in the Skull

“I don’t like dabbling with these things,” Lhandon said after he’d traced up some characters, a wisp of red smoke boiling into the air. He used his other hand to lower the smoke onto Sona.

Her eyes came open and she started to speak, stopping once a deep sleep rolled over her.

“That was pretty easy,” Roger said, hopping around on a stone near the fire. “I know he’s a monk and all, but he could totally use that for nefarious purposes.”

“I don’t think he would do that,” I told the bird.

“To each their own, I suppose.”

The wind stopped howling outside, and I figured now was as good a time as any to go out and check the bodies.

“Anyone care to join me?” I asked as I took a step closer to the exit of the cavern.

“You’re serious about going back out there?” Lhandon asked.

“There are nine bodies out there,” I reminded him.

“And?”

“I would come with you, but it is way too cold for a bird like me out there,” Roger said. “Good luck looting the corpses.”

“What he said,” I told Lhandon as I made my way to the exit.

“But I can’t understand him!” the monk called after me.

I made my way up the steep passageway to the entrance of the cave. It only took me a few moments to find Fist of Force buried in the snow. He had a small bag of coins on him, which I took. And I retrieved Roger’s dagger as well, pulling it out of the man’s chest.

I looked at his shoes, wondering if he was the same size as me. They looked to be almost right, and after a little struggle, I managed to get one of his boots off and put it on my own foot.

I took his other shoe too and then moved to his arms.

Something caught my attention; I glanced up just in time to see a deer watching me, its fur white, its antlers large and foreboding.

We stared at each other for a moment and I finally smiled at the majestic beast, bowing my head in its direction.

Its tail flicked and it took off, apparently satisfied with my action.

A glint of silver caught my eye. I noticed a ring on Fist of Force’s finger that had some of the characters cut into it. Once I pulled the ring off, I examined it for a moment, eventually placing it on my own pointer finger.

An energy rippled around me as I did so, kicking up snow, the hair on my neck standing to attention as the power exited out the crown of my head.

“So this is what gave you your power?” I whispered to him.

I brought my fist back and threw it forward, noticing that it created a wave of energy in the air.

Talk about a bonus.

While I hadn’t mastered my ability to slow down time, I now had the power to absorb three strong hits, the ability to heal once a day and supercharged punches.

“Most excellent,” I said as I started checking the other bodies, not finding much aside from weapons and gold. I sheathed one of the lighter swords, and turned back to the cave, looking for the white deer once I reached the entrance.

I was just about to step inside when I saw her again, my guardian angel. Dema floated down to me, white hair billowing in the wind around her head.

“I see you have made progress, Nick,” she said in her warm voice.

“I don’t know if I should thank you for sending me to the monastery, considering what they did to me, but in retrospect it was helpful.”

A wave of energy rippled off her skin, her elven ears folding back.. “You should seriously consider another deep meditation session like that in the future, once things settle down and you have the answers that you seek.”

“There are a lot of questions that I have, that much is true. Can you tell me anything more about how I came to be in this world?”

“Unfortunately, that is beyond my power at the moment. I can tell you that it was a powerful sorcerer, one from the Overworld, that initiated it. There are beliefs that every thousand years or so, an outsider will come to the Middle Plane, a Golden One who will enlighten us or lead us all into the darkness. The last one never made it through, but before that, two thousand years ago, one came and changed the face of this world.”

“Really?”

“And as you know, or as you’ll soon find out, this world is connected to the Overworld and the Underworld, the cycle of rebirth pooling from the depths of all three worlds.”

“You can die in the other planes?”

“You can die anywhere; it doesn’t matter if you’re a god or demon. What do you think happened to the evil spirit you slew in the tent on your first night in Lhasa?”

“I never really thought about that.”

Dema brought her hand to my face, lightly stroking my cheek. “This is why I believe you have much more to learn,” she said. “You very well may be a Golden One, the one that has been rumored. I didn’t know if you would make it this far, but look where you are now, standing at the gate before the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom. You have proved so much to me in your brief time here; I truly hope you fulfill the prophecy.”

I couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “I hope… I hope I’m able.”

“Now, return to your friends, and rest. Tomorrow morning will be a perfect time for you to take the weapon that is rightfully yours.” And with that she started to fade away, her form swept into a small gust of snow.

I stood there alone for a moment, waiting for Dema to return, knowing that she wouldn’t.

Lhandon woke me the next morning, letting me know that it was time.

I nodded, taking a deep breath. As I sat up, I could feel the power of the ring on my finger, which Lhandon claimed was a mystical object, one that he would need to research further once we got back to the monastery.

While he understood some of the writing on it, he’d never seen it used in that way before, and perhaps we would understand more about the ring if he was able to do some translating.

“I would join you guys, but someone needs to watch our prisoner,” Roger chirped over to me. “And the only reason I plan to go out there is to fly away from the top of this mountain.”

“She’s not our prisoner,” I reminded him.

“Is that what he thinks?” Lhandon asked as he prepared a small pack with the necessary items inside. He had the Mummified Hand of Dolma as well, which he’d wrapped in a thick swath of fabric.

“He’s just being ornery,” I told Lhandon as we made our way to the exit of the cavern, Roger laughing over my shoulder.

“That’s one way to describe me,” the bird said.

Lhandon and I stepped out onto the fresh snow. The bodies were just where we’d left them, aside from one that had been dragged off by a predator.

The sun was just coming up, the moon still in the sky, and as we made it to the front of the gate, Lhandon hung the mirrored pendant on one of the stone hooks, angling it so the moon’s reflection hit the bowl, which I filled with sand.

The mirror shone onto the sand, and after a moment, the strange dust began to swirl as if a snake were moving beneath it.

Lhandon nodded, an apprehensive look on his face. “Okay, just like I told you.”

I took the blade from him and drove it into the sand.

As I did so, pink energy spread down a vein connecting the bowl to the gate. The energy continued to spread through cracks in the wall, revealing a set of characters that Lhandon scrambled to translate.

“Well?” I asked.

The characters began to fade away, the gate creaking open.

“Instructions on how to use the Flaming Thunderbolt,” he said. “Nothing too crazy, just that whoever touches the hilt is immune to its fire.”

“Which means that I can sheath it?”

“I believe so, but I think the more crucial point here is that you can’t burn yourself.”

“Good to know,” I told him as we approached the gate.

We took a flight of stone steps, each step about six inches wide and icy. Both of us slipped at least once on our climb, but neither of us had the misfortune of falling down the steps.

After several minutes of careful stair climbing, we came to a frozen giant’s skull, a blade sticking out of its crown.

“Amazing,” Lhandon said tucking his hands deep into his robes to keep warm. It was colder up here; I could feel the chill in my bones.

“This is definitely a place to put it,” I said, looking at the hilt and noticing that, while there was ice along the skull, the hilt of the sword was ice-free.

“It is yours,” Lhandon told me.

“I didn’t tell you that I was visited last night,” I started to say.

“By who? Or perhaps I should ask by what?”

“My guardian spirit, Dema. She reappeared just as I was reentering the cave, after checking the bodies.”

“And what did she say?”

“That this was my destiny, for one. At least that was what she alluded to. She also congratulated me on making it through three weeks in deep meditation, telling me that I had much to learn.”

“As we all do,” he said.

“What I was curious about, and what I’m still very curious about, is how my friends and I came to this world in the first place. So I asked her about that, and she said that it had something to do with the Overworld working in conjunction with this world. Something to that effect.”

“I see,” Lhandon said, biting his lip for a moment. “Anyone from the Overworld is stronger than someone here, so if there’s a sorcerer up there, they may have been working through someone here, but definitely not with someone here.”

“But she sort of works with me…”

“No, she works through you. Never forget that. But this type of portal magic reeks of the Overworld. A person from here wouldn’t be able to cast something like that.”

“So I may have to go to the Overworld to figure out how to get back to my home, is that what you’re suggesting? Or maybe that’s what she’s suggesting.”

“I am not suggesting that, not the least bit,” Lhandon said, his brow still furrowed. “And I can’t speak for your dakini. To go to the Overworld, you would have to die here and be reborn there. To do that you would need to cultivate enough karma to grant you a rebirth there, rather than here, or even the Underworld.”

“So I would have to die to go there…” I looked around the giant’s skull, noticing another peak in the distance partially surrounded by a cloud.

It was beautiful up here, ethereal in a way.

Lhandon continued: “Not only that, but you would have to make sure you knew where you were going before you died. Then perhaps you would be able to see to the sorcerer there. Once you died there, you could come back here. This is all theoretical, of course. I’ve only read about these types of things in books. It would be something that we could discuss with Baatar once we see him again, but until that point, I really wouldn’t entertain this idea.”

“It seems like I’d be playing with a lot of different forces if I did something like that,” I said as I returned my focus to the hilt of the sword.

“Indeed.”

“Any idea on how I pull this thing out?”

“I believe you just do what you said: pull it out.”

I shrugged and placed my hand on the hilt of the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom, noticing that it was warm, just as I’d suspected it would be. I tightened my grip on the hilt and the sword slid out of the giant’s skull, its blade engulfed in flames.

“Oh my…” Lhandon said, taking a step back.

As if someone had struck it with a hammer, the giant’s skull crumbled into dust, leaving a sheath behind. I waved my hand over the blade, realizing that there was no warmth.

“The fire won’t affect you,” he reminded me. “Try touching it.”

“I suppose I do have a fresh healing spell available to me,” I said as I slowly lowered my hand onto the blade. Sure enough, it was like touching cold steel, even though fiery blue flames were lifting off the weapon.

“What an amazing instrument of destruction,” Lhandon said. “It’s a worthy weapon for a person like you, someone who may be…”

“Don’t call me a Golden One,’” I told him. “If anything, I’m just a guy looking for his friends. And seeking revenge. So there’s that as well, and the second part alone would disqualify me from being golden anything.”

“In what world?” he asked as I brandished the weapon, waving it in the air, getting used to its weight.

“That’s not a stipulation here?” I asked him. “I’m allowed to kill people and still be considered on the Path of the Divine?”

“Of course you are,” he said. “Although killing would bring you bad karma, if you do enough honorable deeds you could cancel out that karma. And killing for just reasons is not considered bad karma.”

“There’s always a loophole, isn’t there?” I told him as I dipped the blade into the snow, watching it melt away.

I unbuckled the blade already at my waist, letting it fall to the ground. The Flaming Thunderbolt deactivated as soon as I sheathed it, the fire dissipating. The sheath glowed then settled, no indication whatsoever that there was a magical sword inside.

“It is quite the weapon,” I told him as I attached the sheath to my belt. I tucked it under my robes, so the hilt was still accessible if I needed to pull it out quickly.

“It truly is a wonderful weapon,” Lhandon said, his teeth chattering. “But I think it is time for us to head back down the mountain. We still have two days’ journey to get back to the monastery.”

“If that’s where we’re going,” I told him as we started down the steps.

The two of us had to be extra careful now, especially since all the steps were iced over.

“What do you mean?”

“I am interested in the Way, you know this, and maybe my past karma and the things I have believed before have led me to this point, to this weapon, to you even.”

“Very true,” he said, but I could tell that there was some hesitation in his voice, that he knew what I was about to say.

“But I have to find my friends. And to do that, I need to go to Nagchu. I may need to go to other cities in Lhasa as well. This remains to be seen. And as I’ve already said, I may be able to make this beneficial for you as well, for the monastery.”

“I see,” Lhandon finally said once we reached the front of the gate. He retrieved the pendant and wrapped Sona’s sword in cloth again. After pocketing the pendant, he scooped the sand out of the bowl into its pouch.

“Are you okay?” I asked him after he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“You have so much potential, Nick, and I was hoping that you would join me at the monastery, help me rebuild it. But I suppose it makes sense for you to want to continue your journey. Sorry, I’m being selfish.”

“I haven’t said that I wouldn’t do that yet,” I told him. “I’m just being realistic here. And you’re anything but selfish.”

“It’s not the best way to operate, but sometimes the only way to be fluid with reality is to let the pieces fall and judge them once they’ve settled,” Lhandon said. “Let’s discuss this another time, once we get out of the cold.”

“Agreed. A warmer climate is a must. It’s better for our brains.”

He turned toward the cave. “I suppose it is time that we wake Sona.”

“Do you think she’ll try to fight us?”

“Let’s hope not.”

Chapter Twenty-Five: Sona Awakes

“Just be ready,” Lhandon said as he took a step closer to Sona, who was still resting on her side.

“So you’re going to wake her, huh?” Roger asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier just to keep her asleep?”

“It would,” I told the bird, “but we may need her help, and she’s going to have to wake up at some point.”

“This should do it,” Lhandon said as he finished tracing up a character, stepping away as it lightly dissipated over her body. Sona blinked her eyes open and sat up immediately, a confused look on her face as she glanced from the monk to the bird, and finally to me.

“You are one of the escaped slaves,” she said, her eyes narrowing on my face.

“Not even a thank you?” Roger asked.

“And why is that bird here?”

“That bird’s name is Roger, he’s a friend of mine,” I said.

“Where’s my weapon?”

“I have it,” Lhandon told her, showing her the blade.

“Give it to me.”

“Hold on a moment,” I said, my hand coming to the hilt of the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom. “We have saved your life, and more importantly, we aren’t looking for a fight. If that’s your intention, then we might as well just end this here.”

A curious smile with a hint of depravity to it stretched across her face. “It’s true, you did save me from the treasure hunters. So for that reason, and that reason alone, I will spare your life. For now. I’m in no position to fight, plus there are three of you.”

“She actually considers me an opponent?” Roger cackled. “She’s smarter than she looks.”

“And you can understand this bird, right?”

I nodded at her. “But no one else can.”

“How do you know that you aren’t crazy?”

I shrugged. “I really don’t know that I’m not crazy, but I do know this bird saved my life, and he sort of saved yours too. So have some respect for him.”

“Very well,” she said, slowly standing. She brought her hands over her chest, shivering.

“You aren’t really dressed for the mountains,” Lhandon told her.

“Normally, it doesn’t matter what I wear because of the sword that you’ve stolen from me,” she explained.

“It gives you an inner warmth?” Lhandon asked, looking at the covered weapon in his hands.

“It does. What else were you expecting from the Mummified Hand of Dolma?”

I drew my blade, flames igniting, shedding light on the far corners of the cavern. “Hand her the blade back,” I instructed Lhandon.

He nodded, coming forward with the weapon in both hands, bowing his head slightly as he offered it to Sona.

I wanted to tell him to take a step back, that he was completely at her mercy.

But Sona didn’t swing at him.

She merely took the weapon, pink energy radiating from it and spreading down her arms, covering her body. The woman took a deep, satisfied breath.

“I missed you,” she whispered to the blade.

“We don’t know where the sheath is,” Lhandon said. I still had my flaming weapon drawn, just in case she decided to try something.

And for a moment I thought that was her intent, especially when she flourished the blade, bringing it back, a cocoon rippling down to the tip of the sword.

She placed it on her waist and it stuck.

“The weapon is alive,” she explained. “And I am its master. I see that you now have the Flaming Thunderbolt.”

“I do,” I said, slowly starting to lower my own weapon into its sheath.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you are someone else’s property,” she told me. “And in that case, that blade belongs to Madame Mabel, you’re just using it temporarily.”

“I thought we already went over this,” I told her, annoyed yet slightly intrigued by the woman. She commanded a power unlike any I had seen before, that was for sure, but something told me she was toxic, that she was a snake in waiting. “I am nobody’s goddamn slave.”

“Are you suggesting that you would like to buy your freedom?”

“Do you want me to stab her?” Roger asked. “I don’t like the way that she’s talking to you. Something’s off here, Nick, I can sense it. I’m sure your monk friend can sense it as well.”

I shook my head at the bird. “I have some gold, so I suppose I could buy my freedom with that,” I said, referring to the money that I’d taken off the treasure hunters. “But to be frank: I was illegally sold into captivity, and no human should be held captive in my opinion anyway.”

“Are you suggesting a liberation of sorts? Because if you are, I will have to end this now.”

Sona lowered her hand to her blade. I heard Roger flutter near me, landing near his dagger and wrapping his claws around its hilt. “I’ll fucking do it, Nick, just give me the word.”

“You won’t be able to take all three of us,” I told her. “Plus there are other things in these mountains that we are affiliated with that won’t take too kindly to you if you win.”

She kept her hand on the hilt of her weapon, a pink energy radiating off her hand.

“Do you feel like you’ve cultivated enough karma to die here?” I asked her.

“I don’t cultivate karma, I cultivate something else,” she said, smiling at Lhandon. The monk shuddered and I saw his fingers twitch as if he were prepared to trace something up.

“Rather than kill each other, how about you introduce me to Madame Mabel? I’m not a slave, and not many people know who I am anyway, so I think you could overlook that, especially considering the fact that we have saved you.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m not from here. I mean that in every sense of the word. I’m not from the Underworld, I’m not from the Overworld, and I am not from anywhere that you have heard of on the Middle Plane. I’m from a different world entirely, a world called Earth, from a country called America, and a state called Massachusetts, if you can believe that.”

“Those words mean nothing to me.”

“And they mean everything to me, which is why I want to meet with Madame Mabel. I have a few friends here that may or may not be alive. One of them is already in your employ.”

“You are familiar with Sir Evan?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Yes, and I don’t know why you are calling him sir.”

“That is how he introduced himself.”

I shook my head, trying not to curse under my breath. “I need to have a few words with him,” I told her. “In fact, if you must know, he’s one of the reasons I was sold into slavery.”

Sona relaxed her posture a little, her hand no longer near the hilt of her sword.

“I came here with four other men, and Evan was one of them. We all came at the same time but got lost because of a number of things, including a sea dragon.” I shook my head, recalling all of it. “Anyway, I helped a family of bandits rid themselves of an evil spirit, and for my troubles they poisoned me. They planned to sell me into slavery, and on our way to the city, we ran into Evan with one of your patrols. He claimed to not know me, and that’s how I became a slave. Had he claimed to know me, all this might have turned out differently. We might not be standing in this cave right now.”

“And if you know Evan, then you must know Bobby,” she said.

My eyes went wide, my heart skipping a beat. “You’ve heard from Bobby?”

“He has taken a role as an alchemist for Madame Mabel. He knows things about alchemy, about what he calls the natural sciences, that most of us had never seen before. He has a device, a small black rectangle with living images inside. I’ve only seen it once, but it was miraculous, unlike anything in this world.”

“A smartphone,” I told her with a grin.

“You know of this object?”

“I think it’s safe to say that you should consider me, Bobby, and unfortunately Evan as aliens from a futuristic world. We may not have magic and runes and mythological weapons, but we do have the technology, and Bobby knows a lot about that kind of stuff. Always did.”

“So you’re related to these two men.”

“Not Evan, we’re not related; Bobby is an old friend of mine. Have there been any other outsiders that you have heard of?” I asked her, trying to hide the hope in my voice. “A man named Hugo, or Tom?”

“No,” she said. “Just Bobby and Sir Evan.”

“We can’t call him Sir Evan, just… just don’t call him that. Trust me there. Why would you let him into your ranks anyway?”

“He has a mind for strategy that we have come to appreciate. The other two baronesses of the Kingdom of Lhasa, especially Madame Blanche, are always looking for war. This was one reason I was in the mountains, on my way to Mongar to secure winter elephants, when the treasure hunters came for me. Madame Blanche’s forces have been spotted in the Cultivation Hills digging up old spirits. It was my goal to stop them from doing so.”

“Fascinating,” Lhandon said.

“And these other baronesses are huge landowners like Madame Mabel?” I asked both of them.

“They are,” said Lhandon. “But Madame Darwina and Madame Mabel have an agreement of sorts, Mabel providing lotus and food for Darwina’s miners in exchange for minerals. It’s relatively easy to ship food supplies up the Dorje River to Mongar.”

“Which has angered Madame Blanche,” Sona added.

“To think that the three women pretty much own Lhasa, yet they are still at war with each other is beyond me,” Roger commented. “This is why I hate humans sometimes. You people can never get enough. I mean, how rich is Madame Mabel? What does she need with minerals? Why does she need slaves? And this isn’t even considering the other two, who are equally bad.”

“The bird has a point,” I said.

“We can’t understand the bird,” Sona reminded me.

“That’s too bad, he’s quite clever. Well, in that case, and in light of all this, I still would like to meet Madame Mabel, and speak to Bobby. In fact, I would like to speak to Bobby before I meet her, but I’m feeling it would be proper to go through her first, correct?”

Sona nodded.

“Is that something that we can make happen here? Can we forget the fact that I was ever a slave and treat me as an outsider, as you have Bobby and Evan?”

“In the end, that may not be up to me,” she finally said. “The truth will come out sooner or later. It always does.”

Chapter Twenty-Six: Cat Men and their Cargo

The path down was easy at some points, and more difficult at others, especially when it came to crossing crevices and wading our way through a few of the deeper gorges, the snow up to our waists.

Sona’s inner warmth seemed to be working.

No matter how much snow we came into contact with, she never once seemed cold, even though her skin was exposed.

This made me think that there was more to her armor than met the eye, that maybe just as the sheath had formed, the armor also formed when she was attacked, that it was symbiotic in a way.

And if this was the case, it only made her more deadly.

Roger chatted with me along the way, telling me about some of his journeys, again going over his story about how he had taken Evan’s eye out and possibly adding a little hyperbolic flare to the story, especially the part where he claimed Evan screamed like a sissy and shat his pants.

Lhandon never said much, mostly trying to keep up, the portly monk red-faced by the time we came upon a group of cat-men guiding a pair of mules pulling a big cart.

“In the name of Madame Mabel, I demand you allow me to inspect your cargo,” Sona said, stepping forward with her hand on the hilt of her weapon. She commanded attention, that was for sure, but the men before her weren’t quite convinced.

“Or we could just let them go…” Roger suggested.  He was tucked in my robes, his head near my neck.

These men weren’t like the lion people, not like Saruul; no, these guys resembled the big cat-man I had fought just before becoming a slave, the one with the young girl and her chain. If what Lhandon had told me was correct, they hailed from the Forbidden City of Trongsa, one of the independent municipalities of the Kingdom of Lhasa.

They towered over the rest of us, each of them easily five heads taller than me, with sculpted muscles and sharp faces, the four of them not budging an inch at Sona’s demand.

“You’re pretty far away from Nagchu,” the leader of the group finally said. “Madame Mabel or not, this shipment doesn’t concern you. It would be best for you to leave now before we have to show you just how much the shipment doesn’t concern you.”

Sona drew her blade, energy radiating over her hand. “This is your last warning, Cat. Open up your cargo and let me inspect it. The treaty between Madame Mabel and Madame Darwina warrants an inspection. If that cargo is heading for Cultivation Hills, I will be forced to confiscate it.”

“Here we go,” Roger said. “I hope you’re ready to use that flaming sword of yours.”

“Shit,” I whispered as I lowered my hand to the hilt of my weapon.

The big cat-man grinned. “It’s funny how demanding you people can be out here in the middle of nowhere, where all you have in terms of protection are two lowly monks.”

The other three men chuckled at his statement.

“Perhaps there is another way for us to handle this dispute,” Lhandon said, taking a step forward. “The head of Madame Mabel’s elite guard is simply looking for a quick inspection, then you may be on your way. If you aren’t harboring anything illegal, and if you aren’t heading to Cultivation Hills, then you have nothing to worry about. Am I to understand this correctly, Sona?”

She nodded, not taking her dark eyes off the men.

“You know, you’d be a little more intimidating if you had your sword girls to back you up. But by yourself, and with these two…” the leader of the cat-men snorted.

One of his ears was pierced, and as he threw his head back to laugh, Sona shot forward, slicing his ear off and returning to where she had just stood, the pierced ear dangling between her fingers.

“It seems I have your attention now,” she said.

The other cat-men drew scimitars, startling the mules. Everyone’s attention turned to me when I brandished my sword, its flames igniting.

“Let her inspect your cargo, or face the consequences,” I said, in as steady of a voice as I could muster.

I had already fought one of these men before, one who was a bit clumsy.

I wasn’t interested in seeing what four of them with more training were capable of, especially as they seemed to possess catlike agility with superhuman strength.

“That got their attention,” Roger said, still tucked in my robe. “And if you’re planning to really fight them, let me know so I can get the hell away from here.”

“I don’t know yet,” I told him out of the corner of my mouth, my blade still trained on the first man, who touched his bloody ear, a dazed look on his face.

“Your cargo,” Sona said, tossing his ear to the ground, “or more of your ears. Which will it be?”

“As you wish.” Their leader growled as he made his way around the two mules, to the large cart that they were pulling. Letting go of his bloody ear stump, he unfastened the rope, the other three men with their blades still trained on us.

From there he removed the tarp, revealing a series of…

Coffins?

“Have at it,” the cat-man said, popping open the first coffin.

A dwarf with rotting flesh sprang out.

More of the coffins popped open, and the dwarf was joined by a variety of partially decomposed fighters, from the reptilians I’d seen in Nagchu to an elven woman who held two broken blades.

The mules tried to kick away, and one of the zombies immediately leaped onto the creature and sank its teeth in.

“Madame Blanche’s necrotic magic,” Lhandon said, starting to back away. “I did not know that she was able to…”

“How do you know it’s her?”

“There are things I just know,” he said, his voice tinged with fear, “things that the Exonerated One told me. And I’m from Bamda, remember. But she finally was able to?”

“Apparently,” I said, stepping in front of Lhandon. “Stay back, and keep Roger with you.” I loosened my collar, letting Roger escape.

Sona charged forward with her blade, stopping short of attacking the first zombie.

She sent a bolt of pink energy at it instead, jumping in time to avoid one of the cat-men. She pressed off the back of his head with her foot and flipped in the air, swiping at the zombie dwarf and taking his head off.

I came forward as well, settling my breath as I swung my Flaming Thunderbolt at one of the zombies. I cut it from the shoulder down across his torso, the monster screaming out as the top half of his body slid downward.

One of the cat-men came at me, lifting his curved blade into the air, and time slowed at the very last moment, allowing me to sidestep it, bring my free hand back and send a rippling energy shooting forward that connected with his upper back.

As he fell forward I drove my blade into his back, practically guiding him to the ground as his body ignited.

Time now at its normal pace again, I met the blade of another cat-man. I shoved him forward and sunk my blade into his abdomen, the flames engulfing his body even as he tried to claw me with his free hand.

But the fire was too much for him to handle. Screaming at the top of his lungs, the man leaped to the snow, trying to cool himself.

More of the zombies lunged for me; one of them met my free fist, power oscillating all around my knuckles as I delivered a blow that knocked its teeth out, blood spraying into the air as my punch rippled through its face.

I cut the other one down with my flaming sword but was too focused on finishing the job to avoid one of the reptilian zombies, who launched himself off the cart.

He landed on me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders and neck, nearly sinking his teeth into the side of my neck.

I managed to flip him over just in time.

I pressed away from the creature, snow kicking up into the air as I drove my flaming blade into its chest, the zombie letting out a terrible moan.

The elven zombie dove for me. Time slowed, allowing me to sidestep her attack and cut her body in half. Time returned to its normal pace as the two halves of her body hit the ground, flopping, spraying the white snow with crimson.

“Answer me!” I heard Sona shout, holding her blade at the leader of the cat-men, a literal pile of bodies around us now. One of the mules kicked off its reins, slamming headfirst into a rock. The other was already dead.

“You won’t be able to stop her,” the cat-man said, hissing. “No one will be able to stop her. This is but a taste of what she is capable of. Long live Madame Blanche!”

Sona drove her blade into his chest and used her foot as leverage to pull it back out.

“We should go to Cultivation Hills,” she said as she wiped her blade on his body. “We need to see this through. You can fight, too. I’ll give you that. But we need to go.”

“That’s not part of the plan,” I told her. “And you know that. You’ve already agreed to get me an audience with Madame Mabel, and I want to meet with my friend again, the alchemist.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sona finally said. She sheathed it, a swirl of snow spinning around her. “We would be best served to return to Nagchu first, to report this to Madame Mabel and then go from there. If you help me going forward in dealing with Madame Blanche, I think I’ll be able to completely forget about the fact that you were once a slave…”

I sheathed my blade and glanced to Lhandon, whose hands were before him now in a prayer position as he mumbled some incantation.

“Let’s just get to Nagchu first,” I finally told her.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Negative Karma

“I will prepare the meal,” Lhandon said as soon as we arrived at the cave where we planned to spend the night.

It was a different cave than we had stayed in before, definitely smaller, and after drawing my blade and using it to add some light to the space, I was happy to see that there were no bats, snow snakes or abandoned treasure chests.

Roger flapped his wings as he landed near Lhandon, who had already started to look for items to put in the fire pit. “I’ll find some twigs,” he said, about to lift off the ground again. “Or maybe not. We’re in a cave. But there must be something worth burning.”

“He’s going to help me, right?” Lhandon asked me.

“That’s right,” I said as the tropical bird rose back into the air, disappearing into one of the darkened corners of the cave.

I still had my blade drawn, happy to help Lhandon light the fire once he got enough kindling. But after standing there for a minute like an idiot, occasionally looking over to Sona, I figured it would be best to put the weapon away.

“You aren’t very good with a sword, are you?” she asked.

“It isn’t my weapon of choice if that’s what you’re asking.”

She drew her blade. “Care to spar?”

“Is that the appropriate response to someone saying they aren’t good with a sword?”

She smirked. “I figured I’d ask.”

“Right here?” I took a look around the space. We had some clearance above us, but it still felt like it would be a bad place to pretend fight.

“I suppose we could go outside, but we may draw attention to ourselves if we do so, especially with your flaming blade and the energy that radiates off the Mummified Hand of Dolma.”

She admired the hilt of her weapon for a moment. I had looked at it a few times now and instinctively remembered holding it. It felt like leather, but there was something morbid about the feeling in my palm, something warm.

“She’s right,” Lhandon said, “about fighting in here rather than out there. As far as we know, we haven’t attracted any spirits. If you two go out there clicking your blades together, there’s no telling who will notice.”

Roger returned with bits of dried grass, depositing them in the fire pit. “There’s a load of this stuff at the back of the cave. I think someone once used this place for food storage. Some wood too.”

“He says there’s wood at the back of the cave,” I told Lhandon.

“Right, then I will help the bird get the wood, while you two try not to kill each other.” He offered both of us a concerned smile followed by a quick bow.

“The monk has clearly poisoned your mind about karma,” she said once Lhandon was out of earshot.

“What do you mean?” I brought my blade to the ready, flames licking off of its blackened metal.

“Of all the paths that you could have chosen here in Lhasa, you’ve chosen the weakest one. You assume that doing good things will bring you karma, and this is a correct assumption, but you know nothing of the other side, of negative karma. This weapon,” she said, lifting her blade in the air and turning it horizontal, “is fueled by negative karma.”

“And mine?”

“The user determines that.”

Sona charged me, but rather than try to cut me down, she bent backward, bringing her hand around, a sphere of pink energy exploding from her palm, tossing me aside.

“Is that how we are going to do this?” I asked as I got to my feet, feeling a bit shaken.

I glanced down at the ring on my finger, the one I had taken from Fist of Force.

An idea came to me, and rather than charge Sona, I simply switched my sword to my other hand and punched the air in her direction.

A wave of force slammed her into a wall.

“Clever,” she said, getting to her feet. “But weak.”

“It knocked you down,” I reminded her, both hands on my blade now.

“You need to think more fluidly with your attacks; that’s the only way that you will truly be able to take an opponent like me.”

Sona performed an aerial, and it was as if she had slipped into an invisible doorway, the woman suddenly gone, appearing behind me, back to back, bringing her elbow into my side and stopping.

“That’s one way to get your opponent,” I said, noticing that she was about my height, her ass pressed against me.

She used her rear to push me forward, and appeared in front of me, holding her blade under my chin.

“Easy, easy,” I started to tell her, my hand naturally charging.

“I could end this right now, you know that.” She placed her free hand on my head and lowered me to the ground so that I was now on one knee.

“But what would that solve?” I asked her, or rather, a voice at the back of my head asked her. While I should have been scared shitless, part of me was focused on my next move.

And I let that part take over.

Sona looked down at me, and as she did, I delivered a burst of force into her stomach, sending her up to the ceiling. In doing so I accidentally swiped my flaming blade against her leg. Sona yelped as her flesh sizzled.

She landed hard, immediately flipping back up to her feet. She looked at her leg, armor already cascading down her body.

“You moved faster than my armor,” she said, a surprised and slightly angry look on her face.

“You already knew I had the Power,” I told her.

Even though my gesture had totally been accidental, I decided to go with this line of reasoning instead, hoping that it would make me a more formidable opponent in her eyes.

I had a feeling that that would come in handy at some point.

“I’ll heal you after this,” I promised her.

Our blades connected, Sona’s a blur of force.

She swept my legs out from under me and had her sword at my throat again in a matter of moments.

“You’re going to have to get better,” she said.

“This isn’t my weapon of choice,” I reminded her.

“And what would your weapon of choice be?”

“Against someone with a sword?”

She nodded.

“A gun.”

“A what?”

Lhandon came back into the room, dropping the bits of wood he’d collected once he saw that Sona was standing over me.

I saw him dip into his robe for the bottled ice spirit that we had collected a few days back, ready to unleash it.

“Don’t do it,” I told him, “she won’t kill me.” I directed this statement directly at Sona, staring deeply into her eyes for a moment. “I’m sure she won’t.”

Her foot connected with the side of my cheek, snapping my jaw. I hit the ground hard, moaning in pain as blood seeped from my mouth.

“Say the word,” I heard Roger call as he lifted into the air, making his way toward us. “She won’t know; she can’t understand me.”

Still on the ground, I cast Healing Hand, bringing my hand to my jaw, a sudden warmth radiating through my skin as my bones clicked back into place.

Once I pushed myself to my feet, I sheathed my blade, turning to Sona.

“Was that rough enough for you?” she asked.

“That’s some kick you have on you.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t take your head off,” she said in an almost playful way.

“Can I heal you?” I asked, looking at the cauterized slash mark on her leg.

Sona set her foot on a rock, showing me her wound.

“This should only take a second.” I placed my hand on her leg, not able to look away from her.

The tension was palpable.

I wanted to ignore it, but damn if it wasn’t surging through me. While I thought she was beautiful and intriguing, I also knew she was deadly, and I didn’t quite agree with this cultivation of negative karma that she had hinted at earlier.

Even without really thinking about it, cultivating negative karma seemed like a reason to do whatever a person wanted, to exploit people. As much as I wanted to get out of this world and back to my own, I knew that this wasn’t going to be my mode of operation.

I lowered my hand once I finished healing her. Sona kept her leg up on the rock, looking me over.

“With some training, you might actually be useful,” she said.

“I thought we were just sparring,” I told her. “I wasn’t trying to actually kill you.”

“Next time, you should actually try to kill me. Because you never know…”

She dropped her foot to the ground, still staring me down.

“Have you always been like this?” I asked her, throwing her off guard a bit.

I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she was expecting either shit-talking or flirty banter.

I gave her neither.

“Have I always been like what?” she asked, her voice a little softer now.

“Go ahead and get the fire started,” I told Lhandon, who still seemed ready to act, “and don’t worry about me. Sona and I aren’t going to kill each other.”

“Sounds like you want to know more about my past,” Sona said after we’d taken a few steps away from Lhandon.

“It would be helpful in determining our future, I’ll tell you that.”

“You think you have a future with me?” she asked, an almost disgusted look on her face.

“That came out wrong. What I meant was that an understanding of your past would help me better understand who you are…”

“I was just giving you a hard time,” she said. “And yes, I’ve always been like this. Ever since I was a young slave.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “You started off as a slave?”

“Most people that work for Madame Mabel started as slaves, aside from those who have come to us with the unique power, like we thought that you had. But you weren’t able to replicate it, so that’s why you also became a slave.”

“So you’re a daughter of one of the slaves, and you weren’t married off?”

She shook her head. “None of the soldiers would dare marry me; they all knew what I was capable of. Even at a young age, I always fought for what was mine. It is who I am. I do not give up.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you did.” I caught sight of Roger out of the corner of my eye, lurking around, listening to what she was saying.

“What about you?” she asked. “Who are you, really?”

“Like I’ve told you. I’m from a different world, from a state called Massachusetts, and a country called America.”

“Massachusetts, huh?”

“I’m aware that is a strange word.”

“It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. But you have asked me, so now I’m asking you. Who were you before you came here?”

“I was just…”

I was hit by a barrage of thoughts, fleeting images, everything that had happened before I arrived in Lhasa. The odd jobs that I’d worked, the path I’d never quite found, dropping out of college, some time spent in Europe, drifting.

Always drifting.

“Well?”

“I was just a regular person,” I told her, swallowing hard. “I really hadn’t found my way just yet. Maybe coming here is how I found my way. I don’t know. But I want to get back to my world. And I want to meet my friends, specifically Bobby and Hugo. I don’t know if Tom’s alive, but if he is, then I would like to see him as well.”

“And you say you came through a portal, correct?”

I nodded at her, no longer able to look Sona in the eyes. I stared at the cave wall, noticing that there was a sparkling vein of minerals running through it.

“So you’ll have to use a portal to go back then.”

I shrugged. “Sure, if it’s that easy. But for some reason, I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

“And you weren’t a fighter in your world?”

“Hardly. I mean, I had been in a few tussles, just like any guy, but nothing like this. I for sure didn’t have a flaming sword,” I said, tapping the hilt of my weapon.

Sona smiled. “It is an impressive weapon; I can feel that my own sword is curious about it, perhaps even a little afraid. Or maybe that’s what I want you to think.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Getting Dolled Up

It was hard saying goodbye to Lhandon the next day, but I definitely didn’t want him coming to Nagchu, nor did I want him taking part in whatever war was to come.

I wasn’t too keen on taking part either, but before I made that decision, I needed to see Bobby, and speak to him.

And Evan? It wouldn’t be pretty if we ran into each other.

So Lhandon and I said our goodbyes, the friendly monk trying not to look sad as we turned away from him.

“I promise I’ll be back,” I said yet again. “And I have a title for you now, something I’ve been thinking about since this morning.”

“A title?”

“Lhandon, the Exalted One.”

He took a step back. “You’re… you’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“I can’t accept this title.”

“What if I told you a dakini visited me in my dreams and suggested I give the title to you?”

He grinned. “Is that true?”

“Sure,” I told him. “At least that’s what I think she said.”

We stood at a fork in the path, one going toward the monastery and the other toward Nagchu. It would be a long walk, and I was already feeling it in my feet, but things were much better with the new boots I’d picked up from Fist of Force.

“Then I will accept your title,” Lhandon said, bowing in my direction. Sona stood a few steps away from me, not at all interested in our conversation.

“Glad to hear it, because coming up with these titles is hard.”

He laughed long and hard. “I suppose it is. Good luck with the rest of your journey, and please be safe.”

“I will be. See you soon.”

“I can only hope that is the case.” He bowed again. “I will continue to work on a method for structuring the Path of the Divine. Our conversations have helped me, Nick, they truly have. I believe that cultivation through the Path of the Divine will truly bring new understanding of the Way of the Immortals to Lhasa, and the lands beyond. But only if progress isn’t a carrot and a stick scenario, only if it is truly quantifiable.”

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with.” I reached my hand out, Lhandon taking it. “It has been a true pleasure.”

“It truly has.”

It was another nine hours’ walk to the city, Roger perched on my shoulder and sometimes flying ahead, Sona always to my right. It felt different without Lhandon around, his wisdom and curiosity leaving a tangible void considering how much time we’d spent together over the past few days, weeks if you counted my imprisonment.

Sona made the separation worse, the strange woman rarely talking and occasionally using her power to float so she could rest her legs.

“Wouldn’t you like to be able to do that?” Roger asked at some point.

“I’d rather have wings,” I told him.

The bird laughed. “I’ll trade you wings for hands any day of the week.”

We passed a statue of a snow lion, something that I didn’t remember seeing when I first came to Nagchu as a slave. Seeing the lion reminded me of Saruul; I still held her name on my tongue, ready to use it one day.

There were a lot of pieces at play here, from the dynamics that I knew I was about to experience with Madame Mabel, to the strange energy between Sona and me.

There were my commitments to Lhandon, promising him that I would try to secure patronage for the monastery, my loyalty to Roger, the bird who had saved my life, plus the desire to see my friends again, to actually be able to process this with someone from my world.

Not to mention the desire to return home.

Yet the thought of Saruul came to me again, and I wondered what she was doing up in the mountains, wishing there was an easier way for me to communicate with her.

“Stay here,” Sona said, walking over to a pair of guards that stood outside Madame Mabel’s estate. It was clear that some of them had never actually seen Sona in person, and they behaved in such a stilted way that it made me feel awkward.

Having traveled with the woman over two days, I’d gotten to know a little more about her and the way she operated. Sona was aggressive, sure, but she had fought for everything she had, including her title, and she wore this chip on her shoulder, just as anyone would in her situation.

We were told to wait for a moment so a carriage could come, and once it did, I experienced firsthand the opulence that Sona was used to. The carriage was decked out in silver and gold, several faces of snow lions carved into the metal, every bit of it polished.

The coachman got down from his perch and opened the door. Sona got in first followed by Roger and me, the bird still perched on my shoulder like I was a goddamn pirate.

A few of the slaves had started to gather, the women with scarves around the lower portion of their faces similar to how Sona wore hers, a couple of them gasping when she made eye contact with them.

“Ignore them,” Sona said as the carriage started up, the horse’s hooves making a percussive sound against the pavement.

“You’ve got a lot of fans.”

“It isn’t easy being head of the elite guard,” she said, not looking out the window. “Everyone either wants to be me or kill me, so that’s why I keep my guard up.”

“I didn’t say anything about you keeping your guard up.”

“And it’s not my fault they worship me. They should know better. Maybe they should practice the Way of the Immortals, anything other than looking to me for answers.”

“Maybe they just like your fashion sense.”

“And you don’t?”

“That’s a baited question,” Roger said.

“I know better than to answer that question.”

“You’re learning,” Sona said with a smirk. She had a sharp sense of humor, but this didn’t diminish the fact that she was basically wearing a bikini with a cape over her shoulders and a long scarf, her “armor” only appearing when she needed it.

“What can I expect when we get there?” I asked her.

It was a question I’d meant to ask for the last several hours.

“They’ll probably be talking about the bird on your shoulder,” Roger said, a beat too late. He had been pretty surprised that this was the type of service we were getting in Nagchu, maybe even a little starstruck.

“What does he keep saying?” Sona asked.

“He thinks people are interested in him,” I translated.

“Can you hear all birds, or just him?”

“Just him, from what I can tell.”

“The only bird worth listening to,” Roger added. “Believe me there.”

“And what about my question, what should I expect? I’m being serious; I don’t want to go into this looking like an idiot.”

“Considering you’re wearing monk robes and don’t have the haircut of a monk; plus you have a big sword sheathed at your belt, also unlike a monk; and you have a turquoise bird with yellow tail feathers on your shoulder, it’s safe to say that you are going to look like an idiot.” Sona laughed at her own joke.

“She has a point,” Roger said.

“See? Even the bird agrees with me.”

“He likes to give me shit,” I said as the carriage came to a stop.

We turned left onto a cobblestoned road where we came to another gate, this one opening up into an expansive space with enormous sycamore trees, the place a spitting image of one of the plantation homes they had in the South.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sona asked finally. “To think how much Madame Mabel has sacrificed to keep such a beautiful property.”

Roger shook his head. “It’s pretty easy to keep the property like this when you have slaves, am I right?”

“He sure squawks a lot,” Sona said, narrowing her eyes at the bird. “But to answer your question, there will be clothing waiting for you in your room. You will change into this clothing, and get cleaned up. You will leave your weapon in the room.”

“The Flaming Thunderbolt doesn’t leave my side,” I started to tell her.

“Then you don’t meet Madame Mabel. We will not disturb your weapon; it’s not something that we do, and it has clearly chosen a master.”

“I will watch your sword,” Roger said.

“Fine,” I told Sona. “And Bobby? When will we meet him?”

“I do not know the answer to that question. But you will meet Madame Mabel, and after I tell her of what we encountered in the mountains, and how you rescued me, then we can learn about her plan to stop Madame Blanche’s spread into Cultivation Hills. We’ll probably eat as well, a grand dinner, the likes of which you’ve never had before. So get cleaned up, and behave yourself. Meeting Madame Mabel is a rare honor.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually looked at myself. Perhaps I had seen my reflection in one of the frozen lakes that we passed, or in the eyes of Lhandon or Sona.

But looking at myself now, my gaunt cheeks, the dark beard I’d grown and my untamed hair, had me smirking.

Of all things.

I was never very large, but I knew I’d never been this skinny before, any extra weight I may have had dripping off me because of my recent change in diet, my confinement, my hike deep into the mountains and back.

It was something else. I looked homeless, yet healthy.

There was clothing set out for me, and I’d been instructed to shave and bathe as well. A warm bath awaited me, a marble tub in the far corner of the room. A woman stood near it with a soft smile on her face.

“Are you ready, sir?”

“I can take care of myself,” I started to say.

“No, I’m here to take care of you, sir.”

“I know, you’ve already indicated that, but I can take care of myself,” I said as I rested my sword on the bed. Roger was sitting on a cushion, looking from the woman to me, wondering how this would play out.

“Why don’t you just let her help?” he finally asked.

“Because she’s a slave,” I said under my breath.

“What’s wrong with me being a slave?” the woman asked me. “I’m given a good life here, a much better life than I would have out there in the fields. It is my job to please Madame Mabel’s guests. How may I please you?”

She was a redheaded woman, with fair skin and eyes that reminded me of some of the reptilian people I had seen. I didn’t know if there was crossbreeding between them, but it was the only indication that she was a bit different.

At least from what I could tell.

“If you need me to leave the room,” Roger started to say. “Wait, I can’t leave. It’s my duty now to watch your fire sword. But I won’t watch, I can promise you that. You have my dagger, right?”

I nodded, retrieving the dagger and placing it on the bed. I had grown accustomed to carrying it for Roger. It made more sense that way, not that he couldn’t hold it (or use it for that matter).

“Good,” he said, hopping over to the blade and grabbing the leather tassel on its end.

“Your bird is cute,” the woman said.

“He can be pretty ornery,” I told her. “And to be honest with you, all I’m interested in doing right now is getting cleaned up and meeting Mabel.”

“Madame Mabel.”

“Exactly,” I said as I started undressing.

She came over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and smoothing it down my bicep. “Can I help you shave? I’m really good at it.”

“Actually, I don’t think another person has ever shaved me before. So sure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch her,” Roger called over to me. “If she tries anything funny, I’ll kill her.”

“Unnecessary,” I told the bird as I took a seat, the woman going to a sink near the bathtub. She pumped hot water up using her foot.

Once she got the cloth good and saturated with the hot water, she came over to me and told me to stretch my neck back. Bending over me, and giving me a good look at her breasts, the woman began lathering me up, using another rag on her arm to clean the blade with each stroke.

“Aren’t I good at this?” she purred to me.

“You’re great,” I told her, once the blade was away from my cheek again.

“I have been shaving men since I was ten.”

“You’re really good at it.”

“That is one of the things that I would like to have done if I am ever able to gain enough karma to be reborn as a human,” Roger said. “I’d like to experience what it’s like to be shaved.”

The bird hopped to the edge of the bed, giving him a better view of me while I was shaved.

“Really?” I asked him as the woman cleaned the blade again.

“She’s really good at it too, I can tell. You should see how fast she’s moving when she wipes the dirty blade on her arm.”

“He can really understand you, can’t he?” the woman asked.

“Shouldn’t you be asking me if I can understand him?” I asked her.

“Well, it’s clear you can understand him, unless you’re just talking to yourself. And that’s okay if you’re talking to yourself. I’ve seen men do very interesting things with themselves.”

“I am sure she has,” Roger said, cackling.

“Thanks,” I told the woman, ignoring Roger. “You’re doing great.”

Once she was finished, the woman led me over to the bath and helped me get in, lathering up my shoulders, my neck, my hair.

“I’m going to wash everything,” she said, instructing me to stand. I stood, and she drained a little bit of the water from her rag, washing my legs, my knees, and my thighs. “Are you sure you don’t want anything more?” she asked as she started massaging my nether regions.

“I promise I’m not watching,” Roger called over to me.

“I’m fine,” I told the woman. “Let’s just finish up here.”

“Okay,” she said with a pouty face, moving her sponge up to my chest. She tried to drop it down again a few minutes later, repeating the same question she’d asked me earlier.

“I’m fine,” I reminded her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And you’re doing a great job.”

“You’re not going to get karma this way,” Roger told me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“What? You can actually get karma by having sex, especially if someone wants to give it to you,” Roger said. “Look, I don’t make the rules here…”

“What’s he saying?”

“Utter nonsense. His interpretation of karma is something I’m having a challenging time wrapping my mind around.”

The woman looked over to Roger. “The bird knows about karma?”

“He knows about a lot of things. He’s sort of a smartass.”

The woman laughed.

Roger, not so much.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dinner Discovery

“You look decent,” Sona said once she met me at the door.

She wasn’t wearing a scarf this time, and was now in a sleek black dress with an intricate pattern stitched along its shoulder straps.

“It was interesting, I will say that,” I told her as I followed her down a long hallway, a red carpet beneath us. My outfit matched hers in a way, a black, collarless silk jacket with a hand-stitched dragon pattern on the cuffs.

“It is not often that anyone gets to dine with Madame Mabel, including myself. It’s a rare opportunity indeed, and you’ll be happy to know that your friend Bobby is there as well.”

“Really?” I asked, suddenly feeling excited as we made our way down the stairwell.

Everything moved in slow motion for a moment, and no, my power hadn’t activated. I was truly ecstatic about seeing my friend, someone familiar in a world so foreign.

I didn’t care about the decor on our way to the dining room, ignoring the pictures on the wall, the slaves moving about with trays of food or cleaning, the guards in snow lion armor.

None of it mattered to me.

I had tunnel vision in that moment, my eyes immediately skipping from Madame Mabel to Bobby, who stood next to her, a solemn expression on his face.

“Bobby?” I asked, trying to contain my smile. “Bobby!”

But rather than run at me with a hug, he merely cleared his throat and nodded.

I looked at him strangely, feeling the history that we shared, especially since we’d known each other since we were about six years old. I’d seen the man grow up, his triumphs and failures, and he had equally been part of mine.

But to get a reception like this? A reception so cold?

“Madame Mabel,” Sona said, elbowing me. “This is Nick Barnette.”

“Hello,” I told the woman, who wore a purple dress that I imagined a cartoon villain would wear. It was an elaborate piece, the collar popped with multiple colors cascading down the fabric. It was a robe of sorts, but it was also shapely, tight in all the right places, showing just how fit she was.

And the makeup.

It was plastered across her face, like something a cheerleader would wear.

There was something instantly repulsive about her, even if she was technically beautiful.

So rather than look at her any longer, or say anything else to her, I returned my attention to Bobby.

“Are you all right, man?” I asked him.

“I’m fine, Nick,” he said, something off about his eyes, something glazed about the way he was looking at me.

I’d seen this look before, but I didn’t want to assume he was on drugs, and besides, he may just have been playing along for etiquette reasons.

I really didn’t know.

“Let us sit,” Madame Mabel said, taking a seat after one of her servants had pulled the chair out for her. Bobby sat next to her, albeit a space away, and Sona and I sat directly across from her.

There was more food on the table than I had ever seen in Lhasa.

It would have been enough food for two Thanksgiving meals, the table filled with everything from pheasants to a roasted pig, a shoulder of beef, tropical fruits, different types of bread, assorted casseroles and other baked dishes.

“So,” she said as servants started reaching around us, preparing our plates. I found this to be very uncomfortable, and quickly told one of the servants not to cut my food, that I could do it for myself.

“As you wish, sir,” the man said, moving aside so another servant could set a glass of chung in front of me.

Madame Mabel offered me a crooked smile as more food was arranged on her plate. “I am told that you are from the same place as Bobby, a place called Massachusetts.”

“That’s right, we grew up together,” I said, barely looking at the woman.

Something was off about Bobby.

Every time I made eye contact with him, he looked away. There was a redness to his face that I’d never seen before, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“And you took it upon yourself to rescue Sona from the treasure hunters, did you not?”

“Yes,” I said, quickly glancing to Sona and putting together the pieces of what she had told Madame Mabel.

Sona hadn’t mentioned that I had once been Mabel’s slave, just as we had agreed upon.

And just as I was about to look to Bobby again, I noticed something hovering in the air above Madame Mabel. It was almost the same thing I’d seen in the bandit’s tent when I saved the young woman from the evil spirit, something wispy and sinister attached to the slave owner’s form.

It was gone now, but I was certain that I’d seen it.

“… And you also know Sir Evan, and come from the same place,” the woman said, “which is utterly bizarre. Three men from a different world all appearing at the same time. How fascinating.”

I opened my mouth to mention that there were more of us but stopped, wondering if this could potentially cause trouble for Hugo and Tom, if they were indeed alive. Besides, Bobby may have already said something about it.

“Yes, it has been rather strange.”

“So you appeared and then you headed straight to the mountains, where you went to the monastery of the Exonerated One, correct?”

A hand reached around Madame Mabel and stabbed a piece of meat with a fork, bringing it to her mouth.

It was fascinating to watch, and I was almost so mesmerized by the action I didn’t answer the question.

Luckily, Sona nudged me.

“That’s right, and the treasure hunters attacked there and killed everyone except for one of the monks, who is now head of that monastery, Lhandon, the Exalted One,” I said as I took a sip from my glass of chung. It was bittersweet, with a bit of an edge to it.

“And the Exonerated One?”

“Killed by the same treasure hunters that captured Sona.”

“I see.”

I paused, considering how I should approach this. Eventually, I just came out with it: “And since Lhandon is rebuilding, he could use your tutelage; the support of a wealthy donor would go a long way for the ransacked monastery.”

Madame Mabel chuckled, the servant feeding her stepping back so as to avoid her laughter. “You come here soliciting donations?”

“I did save Sona.”

Her eyebrows arched as she started to glare at me. “I see what Sona admires in you.”

I didn’t turn to look at Sona’s face, but I could tell out of the corner of my eye that she had gone pale at this statement.

“You say what’s on your mind, which is good,” Madame Mabel continued. “Dangerous, but for someone that is clearly interested in the Way of the Immortals, I suppose it’s a good thing. You are on the path, are you not?”

“I suppose I’m dabbling in it.”

I watched as one of the servants fed Bobby.

It was entirely disturbing, and I knew at that moment that he was hooked on lotus. What else could it have been? It was the only thing that I’d seen so far that made someone behave so lethargically.

But how could he not be excited to see me? I’d seen people intoxicated off lotus, but they seemed to still be able to converse, to enjoy their time.

I didn’t get any of that from Bobby; he seemed completely numb.

“Sona has told me about the zombies that you encountered in the mountains, how Madame Blanche is up to no good again with her necrotic ways. She has also told me that you have volunteered to help stop the spread of Blanche’s necrotic magic and backward ways.”

“I have,” I said, watching a hand rise to Madame Mabel’s lips, the wealthy woman nibbling on a carrot.

“That settles it then. Tomorrow, you will accompany Sona to a staging area outside of Bamda.” She cocked her head at me. “Have you seen my plantation? Have you seen how beautiful it is?”

“I have not,” I told her.

“Well, then maybe it is best if you get a tour of it tonight. Yes, I will have one of the servants give you a tour.”

“That’s not necessary, Madame,” Sona started to say.

“Nonsense. He is perfectly fine getting a tour. After we have dinner here, you will retire to your room, and he will have a tour and then retire to his room.”

“Yes, Madame.” Sona bowed her head slightly, staring down at her food.

“It is a wonderful plantation, the best in all of Lhasa. Anyway, I digress. I love to brag about what I’ve brought to life here in the Kingdom of Lhasa, and who can blame me? Do you realize how much karma I had to cultivate in a previous life to become who I am now? If you did, you would appreciate the food on the table, and what I’m telling you.”

“I appreciate it.”

I saw a muscle in her throat twitch. “Your face tells me that you do not appreciate it. Your face tells me that you think that you can see through it, that your little trip into the mountains has enlightened you in some way. Well, not here it hasn’t. Here, you work for me.”

I looked at Bobby to see him nod.

Fuck.

I wished at that moment that I could kick him under the table, that I could pull him aside and shake him until he came out of the spell. Maybe it was drugs, but maybe… Bobby was something else entirely.

“I assure you, I’m not thinking anything,” I told her.

She laughed, and some of the servants laughed as well.

“Are you telling me you are enlightened enough to be able to cancel out all of your thoughts?”

“No, I’m saying that I am not judging you. I am completely grateful for the food you have provided and this opportunity. I’m glad I can help you by rescuing Sona, and I hope you understand that look on my face is sometimes misinterpreted. While to some I may look skeptical, I am merely curious. To others I look angry, when I’m actually determined. Please judge me only by my intention, and my intention is to help your cause here, with a caveat.”

“Caveat?” she asked, the servant behind her nearly dropping Madame Mabel’s fork.

“I want you to sponsor the betterment of the monastery. I will help you if you can help Lhandon, the Exalted One.”

“Usually, Nick, I am the one to make deals around here. But what you’ve suggested is merely a drop in the pan for me, so I agree, fine, if that’s what you want, then so be it.”

Madame Mabel turned to one of her servants, quickly telling him which accountant to contact and what to reserve. “Now that this is settled, would you like to know more of the plan?”

“By all means,” I told her as I took a bite of pheasant. The meat was juicy, cooked to perfection.

“Actually, it is an idea from this friend of yours, Sir Evan.”

I was about to say ‘not a friend,’ but I stopped myself.

“Is Sir Evan currently in Nagchu?” I asked instead.

“No, he’s on the frontlines near Cultivation Hills, several days from here.”

“And what was his idea?” I asked.

“It’s rather ingenious if you ask me, and I’m surprised one of my own hadn’t thought of it before,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Sona. “Sir Evan’s idea was this: we slowly introduce lotus to the city of Bamda, where Madame Blanche resides. Our product has not yet reached this city, surprisingly enough. We introduce it, and we get them so hooked that they all become addicted to our wonderful product. We control the narcotics, we control the city. It’s that simple.”

“So like the Opium Wars?” I asked.

She squinted at me. “I’m not familiar with that war.”

“It’s a war from my world, similar tactics.”

“And did it work there?”

“Yes and no.”

She waved my statement away as another piece of food was cut for her. “I’ll be sure to tell the guide to take you around to the storage building during your tour. It’s important for you to see the cargo you will be accompanying tomorrow. It’s quite a glorious thing, elephant crate after elephant crate of compressed lotus. And while I admit it is a bit of a risk on my part to send this much to a region, we still have one crop left, enough to satisfy Lhasa and the surrounding villages and cities until next year.”

“So that’s what we’ll be doing, accompanying the lotus to Bamda?”

Madame Mabel nodded curtly. “There are people out there that will do anything to get their hands on these plants. It will take Sona and all her special guard to protect it, you as well. Be prepared for a fight.”

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what it was I needed to do.

“I will be prepared,” I told her. “And I’m looking forward to my tour. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

“It has been a pleasure, Nick. Sona has found a good ally in meeting you.”

Chapter Thirty: Ring of Fire

I never could get through to Bobby.

I tried, mentioning things from our shared past, stories that I knew he enjoyed.

Nothing.

And Madame Mabel, when not being fed, was mostly focused on this “great” plot Evan had conceived.

It made me sick to my stomach.

But I faked like I was enjoying myself, mentally preparing for what needed to happen next. A servant came to get me at the end of the meal, a man in a collarless shirt similar to mine. I said goodbye to Sona, to Bobby and Madame Mabel as I followed the man out.

“A tour of the plantation, how delightful,” he said, his mustache twitching.

“I need to return to my room first,” I told him. “I have to feed my bird.”

“Feed your bird?”

“You know, he can just come with us. He’ll definitely want to fly around and take a look at the place.”

“As you wish, sir,” the man said as he led me to the stairwell and up to my room.

Roger turned to me as soon as I entered, a curious look on his face.

“What?” I asked him as I went for my blade. I wrapped the belt around my waist and realized it would stick out too much in my current outfit.

“There’s a jacket in the wardrobe,” Roger informed me. “That servant lady mentioned it before leaving the room. She said she’d be more than happy to come back if you wanted her to. She petted me too.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said as I went to the wardrobe. “How did you know I needed to cover this up?”

“I’m the smartest bird you’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who said that to me.”

“Have I said that to you?”

“No, but you should have.”

“You’re the smartest bird I’ve ever met,” I told him as I opened the wardrobe to find a long overcoat that would easily conceal my weapon. I grabbed his dagger and put it in my pocket as well.

Roger flew over to me, landing on my shoulder. “We aren’t coming back, are we?”

“You’re the smartest bird I’ve ever met,” I told him again. “And I’m going to need your help once we get out there.”

I quickly explained to Roger what I wanted him to do.

“And then what? Back to the monastery?”

“I suppose that’s a good starting point,” I said as I returned to the door, finding the servant waiting for me outside. “I feared it may be a little cold out there, so I got a jacket as well,” I told the man.

But the servant wasn’t focused on my jacket, nor was he focused on the bulge created by the hilt of my sword. He was focused on Roger, who was doing his best to keep the servant’s attention by hopping around on my shoulder, jumping and doing little twists.

“What a beautiful bird you have,” he finally said. “And those tail feathers!”

“He is a very good bird... Just watch how smart he is.”

I lifted my finger in the air and Roger flew to it. “What you want me to do next, shit on command?”

“He talks to you?” the servant asked.

“If you consider chirping talking, then yes, he talks to me. But I can’t understand him, of course.”

“Of course,” the servant said as he led me down the stairs.

“You should grow a mustache like him,” Roger said, still perched on my finger.

I had to stop myself from chuckling.

“He sure is talkative,” the servant said as we stepped out the front door, to the beautiful drive that led to Mabel’s plantation home.

There was already a carriage waiting for us.

Roger flew to the servant’s shoulder, acting the fool. The man completely mesmerized by the bird as I quickly got into the carriage, concealing my blade.

“Come back, Roger,” I said, and at my command, he returned to my shoulder, just as the servant got in the carriage with me.

“You are really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Roger asked.

The horses started up, the carriage moving down the smooth gravel.

“I can say anything to you I want, and you can’t respond, right?”

I merely placed my hand on Roger’s head. “There’s a good bird, and be quiet for just a moment.”

“I will not be silenced,” Roger said, laughing. “How was dinner with Mabel? Was it everything that you hoped it would be?”

“The first part of the plantation we will view are the lotus fields, Madame Mabel’s most prized crop. If you would like, I can arrange for you to sample some…” The servant narrowed his eyes at me. “It is rather potent.”

“No, I won’t be sampling anything tonight, but I would like to see it,” I told him. “And she mentioned the warehouse nearby. Can I see that as well? I’m supposed to accompany the shipment from this warehouse tomorrow, and I would like to see how much I will be expected to guard.”

“Yes, let’s head there first,” the servant said, reaching behind him and sliding a panel to the side. He called out to the coachman, telling him where we needed to go first, and the man barked a response.

“Thank you,” I told him. “I’m very fascinated by this place and I appreciate you taking the time to show me.”

“No, sir, it is my pleasure. It’s a pleasure to serve you.”

“Why do humans talk this way?” Roger asked. “If I were a human, I would just get to the point, not all this fancy talk.”

“He never stops, does he?” the servant asked, his smile cracking a bit.

“You get used to it; as I said, he’s hungry right now, and when he’s hungry he’s usually a bit noisy.”

I stepped out of the carriage and took a look at the large warehouse. The large structure was currently being guarded by some of Sona’s elite guard, and a couple of big bruiser types at the front as well.

“Do you think I’ll be able to go in?” I asked our tour guide.

He hesitated for a moment. “Sure, I suppose you should see what you’re protecting.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Roger landed on my shoulder and as we walked up to one of the side entrances, a woman approached us.

“You’re not authorized to be here,” she started to say.

“I’m with Sona,” I told her, “and I will be taking part in transporting the lotus tomorrow as per Madame Mabel’s orders. I would like to take a quick peek at the shipment, to get an idea of the amount that we are transporting.”

“Is that so?”

“What can I say? I’m the type of person who wants to be completely prepared at all times; it won’t take me long. I just want to get an idea of the shipment size.”

“Then I will escort you.” The woman told our tour guide to stay behind and nodded me forward.

“You are the one that rescued Sona, yes?” she asked as we approached the door, another female guard coming forward to open it.

“I am.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I have a lot of respect for what Madame Mabel has done here,” I said. Roger cackled.

“You’re a better liar than I thought,” the bird commented as we were led into a warehouse lit by lanterns.

The three of us stopped in front of a huge crate of lotus.

I couldn’t see how many crates there were, but each crate was easily the width of a studio apartment, about seven feet high. It was going to take some massive horses to pull this cargo.

“Do you want to do it, or should I do it?” Roger asked.

I ignored the bird as I turned to the woman. “And how many crates are there?”

“There are eight.” She stepped into one of the spaces between the crates and motioning for me to follow her. “It’s an auspicious number, at least that’s what some people say.”

“It truly is,” I told her as I put my hand on the hilt of my weapon.

It was hard to imagine what I was about to do next, but as we approached the center of the crates, the woman lightly tapping on each one, I drew my blade.

I stabbed it through her lower back, the flaming sword pressing out of her stomach. I brought my hand to her mouth as she started to cry out.

She tried to kick at me, her hand coming up and back, the woman throwing an elbow at my face.

Now using the leverage I had, I pulled the sword up, the smell of burning skin meeting my nose as her flesh ignited. The woman stumbled forward, her body cracking against the ground.

“There’s got to be a faster way to kill someone,” Roger said.

“I’ll have to ask Lhandon about this.”

“You think the fat monk would help you kill someone better?”

“No, about the karmic repercussions,” I said as I bit my lip, looking down at the woman, her body a blaze of flames now.

“We can get into that later, for now…”

“Yep,” I told him as I lit one of the crates on fire.

I lit the one next to it and continued down the line as I went.

Lotus was highly flammable, something I’d learned from Altan, and I barely made it to the door before the flames were already rising into the air, smoke filling the space.

I kicked my way out just as two of Mabel’s elite guards approached, both drawing their blades.

The first came for me.

I happened to get my Flaming Thunderbolt in position just in time, blocking her attack, throwing my fists forward and sending a rippling energy out through my knuckles that sent her flying backward into the other woman.

I turned in the direction of the plantation, more smoke now billowing out of the warehouse.

I saw the tour guide from earlier running toward me until he saw that I was holding a flaming sword. The man quickly turned in the opposite direction.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Roger said as we made our way to the front of the warehouse, where we practically collided with the two big guys I’d seen earlier.

“Put down your weapon!” the man on the left said, his muscles bulging as he lifted a large mace.

I instinctively reached into my jacket pocket, drawing the dagger from its sheath.

I held it in the air and Roger grabbed it, taking off.

The mace-wielding guard charged me, and our weapons connected just as time slowed, allowing me to sidestep him and bring my blade down against his upper arm, slicing it off and immediately cauterizing the wound.

I could see the expression on his face start to change as the pain reached him, but by this point I was already behind the brute, the man stumbling forward just as time returned to its normal pace.

A flash of bird told me Roger had struck, the other guard screaming, clutching at one of his eyes and batting his other hand around his head.

The man I had disarmed now writhed on the ground, plumes lifting off his body as I turned my attention to Roger’s target.

It only took a quick slash to ignite his body as well, no fancy footwork needed.

The smoke was starting to get to me, and rather than watch the two men try to put themselves out, I took off toward the plantation.

“Where are you going?” Roger called down to me as he swooped in front of my face, his talons gripping his blade. “The best way to get out of here is that way, toward the hills!”

“We’ve got a couple more things to do…” I told him.

Something latched onto my foot and tugged, one of Sona’s guards pulling me toward her with a whip.

I hit the ground hard but rather than be dragged toward the woman, I punched the soil, my fist giving me enough force to shoot me back into the air.

I landed behind the woman, swiping up with my Flaming Thunderbolt and taking her down.

Another came forward with a kick.

I blocked her foot, time slowing as I twisted around. I hit the airwaves and kicked my own foot up, my toe cracking into the small of her back and also bringing my blade down, igniting her body.

Time sped up and she spun around, slapping against the ground.

I caught up to Roger, as an alarm sounded behind us.

The lotus field was to my right and Altan’s home to my left, the lights inside just coming on.

Running toward the field, I held my arm out wide, the Flaming Thunderbolt blazing as plumes of blue fire wisped off its blade.

With my next step down my speed increased by a hundredfold; I was suddenly standing in the center of the lotus field, my weapon already lighting some of the plants on fire.

More started to burn, and with a deep breath in I focused on my own speed, running in a circle that created a ring of fire that coughed up a ton of smoke.

Another breath in, and I was starting to feel the effects of the lotus. Roger was somewhere above me, crying for me to get the hell out of there.

I performed the same move, this time making the ring even wider, and as I reached the outer edge, I focused my mind on Altan’s home.

Suddenly I was standing before his door, intoxicated, the doorknob just starting to open.

“Nick?” Altan gasped.

“We have to go,” I told him.

“Where did you learn to move that quickly?” Roger asked, landing on my shoulder. “That was amazing!”

“Now, Altan,” I said, the sound of barking dogs meeting my ears, my mind fogging over. “Now!”

“Are you insane?”

“I burned it all,” I told the slave, trying to focus on his shaved head, everything a blur now. “All of it.”

“They will put the fires out…”Altan looked over my shoulder and saw just how much the fire had spread. “Maybe… maybe not. My… my word! What have you done?”

I turned to see a huge field of rippling flames, the heat reaching my face almost instantly. The entire field was now on fire, the warehouse too, some of the slaves trying to put it out, others already high, lying on the ground, laughing as they attempted to crawl away.

“You did it…” he started to say.

“Seriously, there’s no time. Altan, please, let’s go! I’m taking us to a safe place. You want to follow the Way of the Immortals, correct?” I asked him, trying to steady my gaze on the man. “Well, now’s your chance. I’m giving you a fresh start. Come with me. They won’t get us!”

“You came back for me when you could have escaped?” he asked, a dumbfounded look on his face. “But why?”

“Hurry, we really don’t have time for this conversation!”

“Dogs are on the way!” Roger announced.

“Okay, Nick,” Altan said with a firm nod. “I’ll go with you.”

“Is there anyone else you need to save? Anyone?”

“No... I have nobody.”

Two of the dogs came charging at me, but once they saw my flaming sword they backed up, too afraid to attack.

“That’s right!” Roger screeched at the dogs, the bird flying higher in the air, still gripping his dagger.

I waved my blade at the dogs again as Altan stepped out. The two canines barked and growled, moving back and forth.

We started running toward the mountains, the dogs chasing after us.

“We have to do something about them,” Roger said, “they’re going to bring attention to us!”

“Who’s the bird?” Altan asked.

“A friend,” I told him as an idea coming to me.

I turned, locking my eyes onto one of the dogs.

I punched the ground, sending a ripple toward the beast, knocking it onto its side. Once it got to its feet both the dogs ran off for good, their tails tucked between their legs.

“They’re smarter than Madame Mabel’s guards,” Altan said, pointing at a pair of men running in my direction with long spears.

“I don’t disagree with you there. We need to get to that area,” I told him quickly, nodding in the direction that I had escaped to nearly a month ago.

“Your sword is attracting attention,” Roger reminded me. “Nick, can you hear me?”

“I hear you,” I told him. Everything was still a bit hazy, tendrils of darkness expanding before me. “I’ll take them out, and then I will sheathe it. Stay behind me, Altan,” I said as the men reached us.

“You will not get far,” one of the men said, and I recognized him as the one who had taken Bobby prisoner. At least he looked like the leader of the small military patrol. Then again, his face could have belonged to anyone.

I could barely make out the details now, just forms.

“You get demoted or something?” I asked him.

I barely managed to swat his spear out of the way, the wooden part of the man’s weapon igniting and forcing him to toss it aside. The other one tried the same thing and experienced comparable results.

“I don’t want to do this, guys,” I told them, a little shaky now. “But here’s your chance: Run now, or play dead.”

They looked at each other.

One of them did as I instructed, getting on the ground, his hands over his head.

The other charged me with a dagger he’d pulled from his boot.

I brought my Flaming Thunderbolt deep into his chest, pulling up, its tip tearing out of the man’s back as his body ignited.

“Stay down,” I told the other man, seeing double for a moment. “Stay down!”

“I will make that easier.” Roger drove his dagger into the man’s calf and ripped it out again. The man cried out in pain and tried to crawl away.

“Your bird attacks people?” Altan asked.

“It’s a long story,” I told him, as I put my Flaming Thunderbolt away. “Let’s… let’s just hurry.” I stumbled and caught my balance. “We’ve got to get away from here.”

We took off toward the mountains, leaving the fiery destruction behind us.

Chapter Thirty-One: A New Path Opens

Altan and I finally took a breather, at least that’s what I thought we were doing. In actuality, I had no idea what was going on. Reality had split before me, a blurry overtone to everything, melting candy stripes all along my peripheral.

“Are you okay, Nick?” Altan’s voice echoed inside my skull.

“I think he inhaled too much lotus,” Roger said, fluttering his wings, “when he was burning through that field.”

“The bird keeps squawking and I have no idea what he’s saying. Talk to me, Nick, say something.”

“We need to keep moving,” I said, or at least I thought I said those words. The words seemed three feet in front of me by the time I started to form them in my lips.

But how?

My next steps were labored; with each inhale I could feel the force of nature all around me, its mysteries, its anomalies, its…

“Saruul,” I whispered.

“Who’s that?” Roger asked.

“Saruul? Who’s Saruul?” Altan shook me by the shoulders. “Nick, are you okay?”

“Saruul,” I said again, projecting my words forward. “Saruul!”

She wouldn’t come this far down the mountain, I was sure of it, but that didn’t stop me from saying her name again, hoping that the snow lioness would hear me and come to my aid.

“Nick, let’s just walk,” Altan said, lifting his arm around me. “Which direction?”

“Roger…”

“Follow me,” Roger said, and even though Altan couldn’t understand the bird, he got the hint.

We started walking, each step as if I were trudging through mud. I heard everything around me now, from a raccoon moving through the underbrush to the fire crackling in the valley below.

“Saruul,” I whispered again.

“I don’t know who that is,” Roger called down to me, his voice doing a circle around my head, “but we’re getting you to the monastery. The fat monk will know what to do.”

“I’m trusting you, bird,” Altan said.

“Trust Roger…” I nodded, trying to stop myself from falling.

“Who’s Roger?”

“Bird… Roger.”

“Okay, I’ll trust Roger then. I’ve got you, Nick.”

I nodded, my thoughts a barrage of stained imagery tainted by fire.

I had a major enemy now; I should have thought my actions through. I should have known they would come after me, that they would hurt the people I cared about, but the lotus was making me smile, making me not care at all what had happened back there.

The lotus…

I couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face as a multi-winged dragon rose up over the trees, Altan pushing me to the ground, Roger going crazy.

Except that didn’t happen.

There was no dragon; I thought that the tree was a dragon, and it was I who threw myself to the ground.

I was hallucinating…

Or was I?

I was on my feet again, Altan helping me along, the sounds of trumpets in the distance.

Did I see the man that had attacked me so long ago, the ninja ghost that was shattered by the boar? Was there a spirit swirling around me, waiting for a riddle? Could it really be Fist of Force standing before me, ready to take back what was rightfully his?

“Saruul.”

Sona stepped out from behind a tree, her blade drawn, a betrayed look on her face.

“You knew I would do it,” I mumbled to her. “I had to.”

“I will kill you for this,” she said, bringing her blade to the ready, a pinkish energy pulsing in the air around her.

“I will fight you in heaven or hell,” I growled, “wherever I go.”

“The Underworld.”

“Then I will follow after you to beat you again! Fuck off!”

An apprehensive look came over her face. “I didn’t want for this to happen…”

“I did what I had to do,” I told the warrior woman. “You knew it was coming. You must have sensed it at the dinner table.”

“Nick, stay with me,” Altan said, his voice somewhere off to my left, my right. I felt something tapping against my cheek. “Stay with me, Nick.”

“Sona is here…”

“No she’s not, Nick, get it together!” Roger cried.

I stood before the Sea of Lhasa, looking down at the dark waters, white hands reaching up toward me, a thunderstorm rolling in.

I dove in, the white hands pulling me under, moving down my body.

“Tom!” I screamed, and I swore I saw him swimming down there, his skin bleach white, his eyes black and sullen.

My face was pushed under the water, my eyes open the whole time, claws starting to form on the white hands…

“I thought the water would help,” Altan said, now behind me, or in front of me. My face was wet.

Somewhere.

“Saruul.”

“Just hang in there, Nick, it’ll pass,” Roger said above me, below me, within me, without me.

Somewhere.

“Sona…”

“You will die for this, Nick. And I will kill you in the Underworld as well, banishing you for all eternity,” Sona hissed.  “We could have served together, we could have…”

The beautiful woman floated before me now, pink energy swirling around her free hand, her sword gripped tightly, the scarf covering her face unraveling, her skin exposed.

We were lying on a cliff, Sona on top of me, her hands on my chest, her hair starting to turn colors, lion ears appearing.

“Saruul…”

Cue a fast blur of imagery, all convoluted nonsense.

Broken streams, dreams, corpses, remorse.

Divinity, a gasp awake, a heart beating in a person’s hand, a wolf devouring its young, a serpent rising out of the sea, runny ink on brittle parchment waiting to take a swim in the eternal fire pit.

I was dragged, carried, kicking and screaming as the evil spirits closed in, boils popping from their necks, their jaws elongating, raindrops of blood.

Suddenly, I stood before Bancroft Tower in Worcester again, a place I had visited countless times. I looked up to the top, the structure one of friendship, one built from one friend to honor another.

The walls started to crumble, the bricks falling to the ground, the archway collapsing. A terrible roar rang out across the land, shattering the sky, the soil reaching up to me and pulling me toward it, dirt trailing over my face.

I had to make it through this.

I had to survive.

“Let’s rest here…” someone said.

“We have so much further to go…” came Roger’s voice.

“I don’t know what you’re saying to me, bird…”

“Saruul,” I whispered. “Hugo…”

“He just keeps saying names,” Altan said, slapping my cheek. “Nick, you’ve got to snap out of it. Just focus on my finger. Can you see my finger.”

I saw a candle.

“Watch my finger,” he said.

“A candle… The wind… Lotus.”

“I can’t carry you much further. Here, have this.” Altan pressed my lips open, placing a bitter leaf in my mouth.

I started to cough. Something beat against the top of my back.

I spit it out, and with that spit came vomit.

I sucked in a deep breath, reality a poisonous dart, everything still glazed over but clearer than it had been just moments ago.

No Sona, no Saruul, no Tom, no Hugo.

Goodbye, Bobby.

I was in the woods, shadows looming over me, Altan patting my back, Roger hopping in front of me.

“You can hear me now; I can tell something is different!” Altan said.

“Altan?”

“Nick! Good, you’re getting better. Can you walk on your own now?” He helped me to my feet. “We heard something. I carried you. But I can’t carry you any longer.”

“Sword,” I said, putting my hand on the hilt of my blade.

I felt his hand land on top of mine, the movement so fast that it instinctively caused me to try to unsheathe my weapon.

“Relax, you don’t need your weapon right now, especially not a flaming sword. Here, have some water. I got some from the stream back there.”

He brought a flask to my lips. I took a deep sip from it, the water cold, tasting of stone.

“Thanks…” I said in his direction, everything fuzzy. “I can... walk. Hurry.”

I gasped, my eyes coming open as I sat up. It was frigid out yet I was covered in sweat, breathing heavily. Altan was sleeping near me, his back against the tree.

An image blurred into focus. Dema crouched before me.

“You made it, Nick,” she said, placing a hand on my cheek.

“Where am I?” I whispered.

My thoughts started to come to me, everything that had happened since I lit the lotus on fire.

“You did a brave thing back there,” she said.

“I killed people,” I told her, still blinking my eyes, trying to focus on the beautiful woman. She was in gray robes, a part at the front revealing just a sliver of cleavage.

“I believe in the end that the karma you have cultivated in eliminating Madame Mabel’s crop will even things out. You have not yet prevented a war, but you have postponed its start date.” A truly serene smile spread across her face. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Why can’t you intervene on the Middle Plane?” I asked her. “You are clearly powerful, why couldn’t you have helped us?”

“I know it seems to you that I am a goddess, or a ‘guardian angel’ as you would put it, especially considering my abilities. But I’m not so strong here, and if anything my power comes by acting through a vessel.”

“And I’m your vessel?”

“You’re something else entirely, Nick, and one day, you will come to the Overworld, to paradise, and see how truly powerful I am. For now, all I can do is heal you,” she said, and energy radiated from her form over to me. “And I can tell you to continue your journey, to study the Way of the Immortals so you can truly unlock what lies inside you. Lhandon will help, but there will be other teachers as well. It is time that you start to find them.”

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” I asked.

“I’m afraid he’s been poisoned by a combination of lotus and nefarious magic. It may be a while before you’re able to do something that helps him. It may be too late. You have true enemies now, and they will come after you. If they kill you, I can’t guarantee your rebirth, not yet, not until…”

“Until what?”

She stood, her robes starting to twist around her feet. “Until we meet again, Nick.”

“Wait…” I said, reaching my hand out.

“Who are you talking to?” Roger asked. He landed in front of me, cocking his head to the right. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I feel…” I nodded, looking to the place where Dema had just been crouched. “I feel surprisingly better.”

“You were really gone back there. I was worried.”

“How much further to the monastery?” I asked him, trying not to dwell on just how close I’d come to losing my mind.

“Another hour or so. We really aren’t that far, and I tried to tell that to your friend, but he was too tired. Maybe…”

I traced up Lha-Mo, my hands starting to glow as my Healing Hand came to me.

I made my way over to Altan and placed my hand on his arm, his eyes fluttering open.

“Nick? You are better?”

“We aren’t far from the monastery. Just another hour.”

He looked up at the dark trees for a moment, slowly starting to nod. “Yes, let’s hurry.”

“And thank you for saving me back there,” I said as I started to heal myself as well, feeling a bit better, but still exhausted.

Altan shook his head. “It was the least I could do.”

We didn’t speak as Roger led us to the monastery, both of us tired, Roger also acting as our eye-in-the-sky just in case there was something trying to get us.

My ability to see at night had improved, but it was still dark enough in some parts of the woods that I felt the urge to pull my Flaming Thunderbolt out just for light.

But Roger led the way, calling out to us if we needed to watch our step, always there, always on top of things.

We reached the steps of the monastery and I started to climb them.

I moved faster now, excited to be in a familiar place.

“They will find this place,” Altan said.

“It will be a few days,” Roger told him. “The way I took you is straight through the woods, on an old path used by forest people that lived in these parts eons ago. To reach the monastery they’re going to have to go a long way around. I will be able to spot them when they come.”

“I don’t know if we will stay for long, but this is a good starting point for us. It’s a good place for you too,” I told the now former slave.

“I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” Altan started to say. “I hope it wasn’t too hasty.”

“It was incredibly hasty, but let’s just… Let’s just consider this your good karma. Without the things that you did for me, and the countless things you did for others, I wouldn’t be here.”

We reached the main door just as an icy wind picked up.

I instructed Roger to fly around, assuming that there was an open window somewhere where he could get in and get Lhandon’s attention. It took him a few minutes, but eventually, Lhandon came to the door, opening it for us.

“Nick, and who are you? Pardon my manners. I am Lhandon.”

“Lhandon, the Exalted One,” I reminded him.

“Yes, my title.”

“I have come to learn the Way of the Immortals, to better my practice, Exalted One,” Altan said, bowing his head. “I am currently a Broken Sword.”

“As we all are,” Lhandon said, smoothing his hands over his robes. “You’ve come to the right place, Altan, but why do I have a feeling that there’s more to the story than Nick simply escorting you here?”

“Yeah, you aren’t going to like where this goes…” I told Lhandon as he led us through the vestibule. He’d already cast a rune that allowed his fingers to glow, providing us some light. We stepped into the main prayer room, a cold, mystical draft hanging in the air. I also noticed the scent of burning incense wafting before me.

“Let’s get to the kitchen first; I need to hear what it is you have done.”

“We all need to get some rest,” Roger said, landing on my shoulder, yawning.

“We can go into more detail in the morning,” I told Lhandon, “but basically, we ran here from Nagchu, and for most of that journey, if not all of it, I was hallucinating on lotus. If it weren’t for Altan here, and Roger, I wouldn’t have made it.”

“Such good karma, and very humble of you to say that,” Lhandon said as he motioned us toward a table. “Just give me a moment to make some tea. And don’t worry, it is a soothing, bedtime tea.”

He returned a few minutes later with a tray with three cups on it.

“Birds can’t drink tea?” Roger asked.

“I will get one for you,” I said, ignoring Lhandon’s plea for me to stay seated so he could look after his guests. I brought Roger a small saucer of tea, and the bird dipped his beak in, satisfied.

“I destroyed all of their lotus,” I told Lhandon after we were all settled.

The portly monk set his teacup down. “You destroyed it?”

“I met Madame Mabel. Their plan, invented by the guy from my world that betrayed me, was to start introducing lotus to the city of Bamda.”

“Bamda?” A worried look came across Lhandon’s face. “That’s my hometown. And what do you mean by introduce?”

“It’s something that has happened in my world before,” I explained. “A country introduces a narcotic to another country to take hold of their population by getting them hooked, which can cause economic turmoil, leaving the first country in a better bargaining position.”

“That’s quite devious.”

I nodded. “The first country also controls the supply of narcotics. When people don’t get their drugs, other issues arise, and when they’re all high, that’s yet another problem that a government would have to deal with. While it’s easy to arrest one person who is drugged out of their mind, to arrest everyone…”

“And then you swoop in and take the city for yourself, right?” Lhandon asked.

“Exactly.”

“So after she said this, you attacked the fields.”

“Not exactly,” I said, telling him how I first destroyed the shipment that Mabel wanted me to guard, making my way to the fields when I went for Altan. About the only thing I failed to mention was the strange energy hovering over Madame Mabel’s shoulders over dinner. I still wanted a little time to process that.

“This is very bad,” Lhandon mumbled. “But it was also a very noble thing for you to do. How long do you think until they get here?”

“It will be at least three days,” Roger said, his eyes suddenly droopy. He yawned. “The way that Madame Mabel’s soldiers move, I estimate three days, possibly even longer.”

“Three days,” I translated.

“Then you will need to leave after two days,” Lhandon told Altan and me. “Perhaps you can go to the mountains and hide.”

“I can’t leave you here, not if Sona is coming,” I told Lhandon.

“She will kill you,” Altan added. “She’s the type that leaves no stone unturned.”

“Maybe we can all go to the mountains,” I suggested. “Or… we stay here and fight.”

“Stay here and fight?” Lhandon asked.

I nodded. “Who can we get to help us between now and then? I could call for Saruul; I think I need to get to a slightly higher altitude for that power to work, but I could do it tomorrow. She could bring some of her people…”

“We can’t turn the monastery into a battleground,” Lhandon said, shaking his head. “This is a place of worship.”

“It may be our only option. Who else could we get? What about the hermit, Baatar? Who was the other one you know for sure is up there?”

“Thupten, and I don’t believe they can help us, or if they can come I don’t believe they will.”

“We have an advantage here,” I reminded them. “The only way to get to the monastery is to go up the steps, that is unless you come around the back way, and they would have to go all the way around the cluster of mountains to do that. It would take…”

“At least a week,” Roger said, “and that would be if they could even find their way. Plus there are many obstacles along those trails.”

“What do we have here at the monastery that could help defend us? I know you still have that spirit that you bottled. Are there other things like that?” I asked Lhandon.

“This seems like such a hasty idea…”

“There has to be something that we can do. We can’t let them just run through the place and destroy it searching for me. That’s what they’ll do.”

Altan nodded in agreement. “That’s generally how they operate.”

“Either way, the monastery gets attacked.”

Lhandon massaged his temples “I need time to meditate on this, and all of us could use some rest. Let’s reconvene in six hours. No, seven hours. I will have breakfast made. When the bell rings, please come down.”

Chapter Thirty-Two: Underground Knowledge

No dreams; too tired.

I simply awoke the next morning when I heard a bell, its echo ringing through the hallways.

I slept in the same room that I’d slept in during my first night at the monastery, and as I made my way down the hallway, I noticed just how empty the place felt.

There was something depressing about it; all the monks had given life to the monastery, and their absent energies were a smog of silence.

I met Altan at the stairs, the former slave now in a fresh pair of monk’s robes.

“How do you feel?” we both asked each other at the same time.

“You first,” he told me.

“Rested, better. You?”

“I feel as if I’m home.”

“You are,” I reminded Altan.

He chuckled. “It’s as if the last fifty years of my life have been a single day, and that day has passed, and here I am.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I told him as the breakfast bell rang again.

We met Lhandon in the kitchen, the heavyset monk wearing an apron over his robe. “I hope you enjoy what I made for breakfast today,” he said, bringing plates over to the small kitchen table.

“Let’s eat in the main room,” I said. “The place is yours now; let’s enjoy it.”

He looked at me apprehensively for a moment. “About that…”

“It’ll be nice. Come on.”

The three of us moved through the kitchen to the main dining area. A window was open at the back of the room, and Roger flew in and landed on the table.

“I suppose we shouldn’t eat eggs in front of you,” Lhandon started to say.

“Eat what you want,” Roger told me. “I’ve already had my breakfast.”

“He doesn’t mind,” I said as we all took our seats.

Each of our plates had potatoes piled on them, fresh greens and eggs too.

Lhandon sat across from Altan and me, a troubled look on his face. “I forgot to make something to drink,” he started to say.

“I’ll make something quickly,” Altan offered. “I’m very good with tea.”

The former slave left the room before Lhandon could protest.

“He’s your student now,” I reminded him, “regardless of the fact he’s older than you. Get used to him wanting to wait on you. Besides, you deserve it.”

“You are too confident in my abilities,” he said, a frown still on his face.

“There’s something else going on, isn’t there? What else is bothering you aside from the fact that I’ve put the monastery in danger?” I asked him as I cut into my eggs. “Sorry about that last part, by the way.”

“We’ll get to that part later, after breakfast.”

“Then what is it?”

He cleared his throat. “We have a very extensive library below the main prayer room, one that the treasure hunters didn’t know about. There are two, actually, one adjacent to the dining room here, which is mostly there for show, and the one below.”

“So you have more texts, right? I don’t see a problem here. That sounds like a good thing, to be honest with you.”

“It would be if there wasn’t a spell cast on the door to the underground library which prevents anyone but the head monk from entering.”

“You are the head monk,” I reminded him. “I know you’re still coming to realize this, but it’s you, Lhandon, you’re the Exalted One.”

“But what if it doesn’t open?” he asked, his pupils quivering as he looked at me. “What if I’m not allowed access? I would never be legitimate…”

“You worry too much,” I told him as I went for one of the potatoes. “If we can’t get in the traditional way, we will blow the floor out or something, and come in from the top.”

“I can only imagine you punching the floor until it breaks open,” Roger said as he hopped around on the table. “And tell the monk to lighten up. We’ll get in there if he doesn’t have access.”

“Hey, punching a hole could work,” I told the bird.

“You always were a clever thinker, weren’t you?” Lhandon said, a fond smile on his face.

“Me or Roger?”

“You and I suppose Roger, but I don’t understand him, so it’s hard for me to judge how clever he is.”

“Trust me, I’m clever,” Roger chirped.

“Point is: if we can’t get in through the door, we’ll find another way,” I told Lhandon. “What’s in this underground library anyway? I mean, is it really as ominous as it sounds?”

He considered this for a moment as he started to work on his plate. “There are texts down there that would greatly aid anyone trying to better understand the Way of the Immortals. And not only the Path of the Divine, other paths as well. There is also a collection of powerful runic spells that the Exonerated One has collected over the years.”

“Too bad I can’t read it.”

“Yes, that is too bad, but there are other things that will be helpful to us down there. The possibilities are endless, truly.”

“Then I look forward to our trip to the library,” I said, and I would have raised my glass to him, but Altan hadn’t brought any tea in yet.

Eventually, he returned with tea and the three of us ate breakfast together, Roger letting me know that he was going to go out for another patrol.

After cleaning up breakfast together, Altan and I followed Lhandon down the hallway that circled around to the main prayer space, where we stopped in front of a statue of a golden monk.

“Here we go.” Lhandon placed his hand on one of the stone flowers situated in front of the golden monk. He twisted the flower twice to the right, and then one full rotation to the left.

A door slid open to reveal a curved stairwell of dusty steps.

His fingers illuminating the way, Lhandon led us down, where we eventually came to an enormous metal door without a handle.

The door started to slide open as soon as Lhandon paused in front of it. The monk immediately bowed his head and said a soft prayer.

“See? You had nothing to worry about all along,” I told him.

“How wonderful,” Altan whispered once the sliding door came to a stop.

I was expecting something cavernous, with low ceilings and a musky scent in the air.

Instead, I was greeted by an absolutely enormous room, easily as tall as the prayer room above, which had natural light coming in through stained glass windows between slats at the top of the ceiling.

A hanging chandelier flared up, adding more light to the space and revealing countless scrolls and books as well as long wooden tables and an immaculately carved easel to practice calligraphy.

“It is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before,” Altan said, his eyes reflecting the chandelier above.

“I’ve only been down in this library a few times in my thirty years here, and only with the Exonerated One,” Lhandon explained. “I don’t even know where I should begin.”

“You could be down here for the next decade,” I told him, “and still find something to read.”

“Very true,” he said as he stepped a few paces ahead and turned to us. “Okay, my decision is made. Please give me about an hour to look through and arrange some of the scrolls that are already out. Afterward, I would like you to meet me in the classroom above,” he told me. “I plan to teach you a new rune today, possibly two depending on what I discover here. Then you’ll need to go and ring the Hermit Bell.”

“Hermit Bell?”

“I will explain then. Altan, it’s time that you start to better understand the Path. I will find you a text to study over the next hour, but while I’m doing that, I would like you to start taking some of the boards out of a storage room at the back of the monastery. We’re going to have to put them over the windows at the front, and arrange a few other things to protect against the inevitable.”

“So you’ve decided we’re making a stand?” I asked.

“Yes, I suppose I have,” Lhandon said, a hint of leadership in his voice that I’d never heard from him before.

“Will do,” Altan said, a proud look on his face. “I’ll also take a look around to see if there’s anything else that we can shore up.”

“Excellent. As calm as it seems right now, they’re still coming, and they will eventually get here. We have to be ready.”

“I’ll help Altan,” I said.

“Good, then I’ll see you in an hour, Nick.”

I entered the classroom to find Lhandon sitting at the table, a troubled look on his face. There was an old book resting before him, and a piece of parchment for him to write on.

“Something the matter?” I asked him as I wiped some of the sweat off my brow. Moving all the wood with Altan had been harder than I thought it would be.

“I should have known,” Lhandon said, stroking his chin.

“Should have known what?”

“Of course he would predict his reincarnation, and…” Lhandon swallowed hard. “While the Exonerated One may have had some complications when it comes to karmic exploitation, and perhaps some of the things he did were unorthodox, he’d been practicing all along to return to the Middle Plane, to continue to spread the Way of the Immortals, which is, in itself, a truly pious karmic boon.”

“What are you saying?”

“The Exonerated One will not be reborn in the Overworld. The founding of this monastery alone is enough for him to avoid the Underworld.”

“So, he’s coming back here?”

“I will have to seek out his reincarnation,” he said, pointing at the parchment before him. “He left instructions on the locations where he may reincarnate, and there could be other complications as well. How much do you know about reincarnation?”

“I believe you’ve asked me that before,” I said as I took a seat in front of him. “We have a similar notion in my world.”

“Every now and then someone splits into two forms when they reincarnate, the mind and the soul. I don’t know if the Exonerated One will split; there’s really no telling at this point, but it’s something I will have to consider, and it will make searching for him more arduous. Anyway, once things smooth out here, it is my duty to seek him out. You may join me if you’d like.”

“Will he be here in Lhasa?” I asked.

“Perhaps, although he has also mentioned one of the island kingdoms as a possible rebirth location. Let’s hope it’s not there.”

“One of the island kingdoms?”

“The Island Kingdom of Jonang, to be exact. He often spoke of this place. He visited the place with his father several times in his youth.”

“What happens after that?”

“Do you mean after we find him?”

I nodded as I took a seat in front of Lhandon.

“After we find him, it’s my job to teach him the Way of the Immortals, even though he will already have some knowledge of it. Depending on which reincarnation we find, he’ll still be a child. This means I’ll still be the leader of this monastery. But he should develop rapidly here, to the point that I wouldn’t be surprised if he founds his own monastery at an early age.”

“So he won’t kick you out of here?”

Lhandon laughed. “No, that would be bad karma. Whenever a student finds his reincarnated master, the student retains what he has already taken in, training the master, and inevitably the student dies and the new master then finds the student, and it goes on and on like this. Often times there are issues that arise, from accidental rebirths to a desire to no longer take the monastic path. But we can cross that bridge later.”

“Okay, well, I owe you one. And regardless, I’d be happy to join you on your quest.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Lhandon smiled as he took a deep breath in. “I’ll teach you two runes today, as I said earlier. Afterward, you will need to make the journey to ring the Hermit Bell, which should call any hermits in the area to our aid. It will take you about a day to go there and come back. It’s a steep climb; otherwise, I would come with you.”

“Sounds good.”

“There is another thing that would be helpful for you to get while you’re out.” Lhandon set a small glass jar on his desk. “But you need to learn the Rune of Inquiry first.”

“Isn’t that the one that you cast on the spirit back in the cave?”

“It is, and casting it around any type of spirit will put you in a situation similar to what we already experienced. If the spirit answers your question incorrectly, the spirit is yours.”

“And you can transfer this to me without losing the power yourself?”

Lhandon nodded. “Now that I have taken the mantle of head monk, as proven by the fact that I was able to access this library, I can now transmit powers without losing them. This one would be very helpful to you, I believe.”

A thought came to me. I almost didn’t ask it, but Lhandon paused, waiting for me to speak. “Would it work against someone from a different world? Like a dakini?”

“I’ve never met a dakini, but I suppose it could do something. I would need to check some of the books in the library, however, to see if this has ever been attempted before.”

I looked down in front of me at the piece of parchment, and the quill sticking out of a small container of ink. By the time I glanced up Lhandon was standing, holding a paintbrush in his hand and focused on a piece of paper that had been stretched across the wall behind him.

“You already know Lha,” he began, tracing the character.

“Yes, it looks like a television with a stick hanging off it and two slash marks.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it appears as if you know what you’re talking about. So sure, whatever helps. We won’t go too deep into characters used in the ancient languages today, but you should at least understand subscripts and superscripts. You have already learned two runic spells, the first one being Healing Hand.”

“Lha-Mo,” I told him, sketching it on the parchment.

“Yes, and you will notice that this rune takes ‘Mo’ as a subscript. That’s why it is pronounced ‘Lha-Mo.’ Does that make sense?”

I nodded. “And the other one I know allows me to absorb three strikes, something Baatar taught me. To be honest, I sort of forgot about that one. I should’ve used it back at Madame Mabel’s place, but I was so lost in the moment…”

“It is fine. Show me ‘Ma-Gyal.’”

I closed my eyes for a moment and drew it up.

“Again,” Lhandon said, “in this rune, ‘Gyal’ is a subscript. There are more complicated ones with superscripts and subscripts, and the way you know which one is which is through the pronunciation. Now, the two we are learning today are simple. The Rune of Inquiry is ‘Ra-Lha.’ You already know ‘Lha,’ so please show me ‘Ra.’”

I closed my eyes, lightly setting the tip of the quill on the parchment. My hands started to make a circle, and then it naturally made an almost sideways smile beneath it.

“Good,” said Lhandon, who was now standing before me. “You really are a natural at this. Now, how do you think you would combine them? Would ‘Ra’ be a subscript or a superscript?”

I closed my eyes again, my hand naturally starting to form a circle, what I remembered Baatar had called a “moon.” I then formed a square with a stem hanging off of it, with two slashes beneath it.

“Is that right?” I asked him.

Lhandon nodded. “But which is it? Is ‘Ra’ a subscript or a superscript?”

“Super, because it sits on top of Lha.”

“Good, Ra-Lha. Now, try casting it.”

I did as he instructed, making a quick circle and square, with a line stemming from it and two slash marks. It was subtle, but I noticed that the room had started to glow, or maybe it was everything I was looking at that was glowing.

“And how long does it last?”

“Until you trace the rune again. Once you ask your question, start to prepare your jar for the spirit. I always have an empty one in my robes, just in case I need one.”

He brought a small jar over to my table and set it down.

“And how do you get it to go inside?”

“As soon as the spirit answers it incorrectly, it will be sucked inside the jar. Only one spirit can fit in each jar. These aren’t just any jars, they’re special ones that have been blessed. I suppose you could bless a larger jar to fit more spirits, but that may cause an issue, and the spirits certainly wouldn’t be happy!” He chuckled at his own statement. “It would be strange indeed.”

I traced up the rune again, immediately recalling it.

“While you’re on your way to ring the bell, I want you to encounter a spirit and bottle it. We could use as much supernatural help as we can get.”

“And you think I’ll just randomly find one?”

“If luck is on your side, yes. And if it is on your side, try to keep it on your side long enough to actually bottle the spirit. Now, there’s one more rune to learn for today, then you should prepare a bag and leave if you hope to reach the bell by nightfall.”

He paused for a moment. “Ah, yes. There is one other thing about the Rune of Inquiry that you should know. It can only test the veracity of a question once per hour. So be sure it’s a good question, otherwise you may find yourself in a situation where you have to entertain a spirit for an hour to try again. Or fight it. Your choice.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I told him.

“Now, as I predicted, there was something interesting in the underground library that I believe may be of use to you. There are a good many runes down here, to be honest, but someone at your stage on the path should only learn one or two per day. Also, if you learn too many, you will start to forget the ones you don’t use as frequently, which is why it’s important to really work on inner cultivation.”

“Through just meditation?”

“It varies based on the student. Someone like Altan has clearly meditated extensively, yet he has not progressed. For him to progress he needs to start to develop karma from doing something he cares about, and through transmission from some of the more complicated texts. For someone like you? Meditation will help, as will pious action. The Power, this unique ability that you and only a few others seem to possess, is fueled by karma, both positive and negative, meditation and action, both positive and negative. How you’ve already cultivated enough to show up here with the Power is beyond me, but you still have work to do.”

“I will try to meditate tonight,” I told him.

“You should meditate before you go, and one thing that you should think about is if it is a good idea to call Saruul to the monastery.”

“We may need all the help we can get,” I started to tell him.

“I’m aware that she would be helpful, and you would be able to reach her from the bell, considering its altitude. But there will always be politics involved in bringing the snow lion people into this, and since you had a relationship with her, that may prove a bit troublesome for you. I’ve meditated on this, and I think the formalities and politics may complicate things. So think deeply about it.”

“Will do,” I told him as I looked down at my parchment.

“Do you remember the character for ‘Mo’?” he asked.

I traced it up, a straight line with a coiled stem hanging from it and what I liked to think of as an extra leg.

“That’s correct,” Lhandon said once he checked my work. “I want you to try to discover the character for ‘Goh.’”

I closed my eyes, hesitating for a moment. Nothing was coming to me, and every time I put the tip of my quill against the parchment, I ended up pulling back, uncertain.

“Breathe deeply and focus,” he reminded me. “This is one of the easier characters; I’m sure you can figure it out.”

I eventually started to draw a fanged box, and once I got back to the top I continued the line, attaching the stem to it.

I opened my eyes to see the character.

“That’s correct,” Lhandon said. “Are you ready to learn the Rune of Distortion?” Before I could answer his question, he continued: “It shouldn’t be too hard for you to figure out how these two characters connect. The word is ‘Goh-Mo.’ See if you can figure this one out.”

I looked at the two characters for a moment, trying to conceptualize how they would merge. Finally, I kept most of the character ‘Goh,’ simply adding the curl to its stem.

“You’ve got it,” Lhandon said, genuinely happy with how quickly I’d figured it out. “This is a very interesting rune but you have to be careful with how you use it. Casting it will distort an enemy’s perception for three minutes. It has a long range of fifty meters, which may prove useful. However, you must cast it with your eyes closed or it will backfire, and your perception will be disrupted as well. Think of it like this: it creates a cone of distorted perception in front of you, and by closing your eyes you aren’t affected by that cone.”

“It sounds like a terrific way to get away from something that I can’t beat.”

He nodded, impressed with my answer. “A most excellent way to use it. I don’t want you to trace it up here, because I don’t want to experience it, but put your hand on the parchment and practice tracing it.”

I did as he instructed, my eyes closed as I traced it.

“Good, good,” Lhandon said once I opened my eyes and showed him my handiwork. “I want you to meditate on the two new runes that you have learned, the Rune of Inquiry and the Rune of Distortion. And you should leave in an hour if you plan to get to the Hermit Bell by nightfall.”

“Thank you for your teachings,” I told Lhandon, bowing my head in his direction.

“There is no need to thank me for my transmission. It is my pleasure to be a vessel of the Way of the Immortals.”

Chapter Thirty-Three: Stirring the Embers

“I’ll only fly with you for a little bit,” Roger said. “Then I have to start my patrol again.”

“I understand.”

“I hope it doesn’t get too lonely up there.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find a way to entertain myself,” I told the bird as we started moving up the rocks, following the path that Lhandon had laid out. I didn’t need a map. The path wrapped around the mountain; all I had to do was follow it.

As I walked, I recalled how my meditation session had gone earlier.

I was able to visualize the two new runes Lhandon had taught me, as well as a few places back in Massachusetts that I hadn’t thought about for a while, my mind jumping to a trip I once took to Vermont, to a farmer’s market where they had the best strawberries I’d ever eaten before.

Oddly enough, it was when I ate the strawberry in my meditation that I realized it might be a bad idea to call on Saruul, right now anyway.

I would still think about it once I reached the Hermit Bell, but for now it was important to stay focused on the actual mission, which was protecting the monastery.

I was also intrigued by Lhandon’s explanation of reincarnation, and I wondered how he would go about finding the Exonerated One. Would the child have the same personality? What did finding a reincarnated master look like?

“I have to go back down,” Roger told me after about an hour of walking. “Good luck up here.”

“Thanks,” I told the bird. “It’s too bad you can’t join me for the entire journey.”

“See? I told you that you would get lonely. I’ll see you back at the monastery.”

And with that the turquoise bird with yellow tail feathers dove over the side of a cliff, disappearing.

He really was a good friend.

Another couple of hours of walking.

I tried to do a walking meditation of sorts that I’d once read about, just focusing on my breath and the path before me. It worked for the most part. Occasionally, I was interrupted by a sound, and there were a few times when I thought I might have to draw my blade.

But it never came to that.

Once the sun started to set, I opted for the meal Lhandon had prepared for me.

It really was nice seeing him slide into his role as head of the monastery.

I could sense the confidence that had come over him once the door of the underground library opened. If ever there was a point that his style and philosophy changed, it would be at that moment. Maybe he’d really be able to figure out a way to quantify the Way of the Immortals, especially in regards to the Path of the Divine.

If anyone could simplify yet add some sense to the system, make it more managable and thus more helpful, it was Lhandon.

The Exalted One would do good things for Lhasa.

“Dema?” I asked aloud, hoping that my guardian angel would appear just so I had someone to talk to.

I waited.

Nothing.

I ate the bread and a couple of small boiled potatoes, continuing my walk once I’d finished.

The walk continued to be uneventful, and as darkness approached, I started to near the bell. The air was colder up here, and I’d already heard a couple of wolves howling in the distance.

Hopefully, they would stay in the distance, not making their way over to me somehow.

This got me wondering: if the snow lions became people, did the wolves become people as well?

I observed the thought and let it pass, returning to the semi-meditative state I’d been in for the entire journey.

As I came around a bend, I noticed that there was an extinguished fire near the bell, the embers still red, a small puff of black smoke still hanging in the air.

I quickly traced up Gyal-Ma, the rune that allowed me to absorb three strikes.

My hand on the hilt of my sword, I crouched a bit, scanning the area to see if there were any traces of life.

The Hermit Bell sat on a flat surface that jutted off the side of the mountain, and after a quick look around, silencing my thoughts so I could listen as well, I concluded that no one was there.

But someone had been here, and if I rang the bell at night, and they were still in the area, they would know that company had arrived.

I decided to ring the bell in the morning, and make my way back to the monastery with haste.

Once my decision was made, I sat with my back against the base of the bell, looking over at the glowing embers.

I already wore my hood to give my head some added warmth, and I was just about to open the bag Lhandon had given me to get a blanket out when I noticed something move.

I returned my focus to the extinguished fire, watching as it started to crackle, the flames reigniting.

I pressed up to my feet and pulled out my blade, even though I knew it would do nothing against the spirit that now floated before me.

“I was wondering when I would run into one of you,” I told the fire spirit, still holding my blade.

“And I was wondering when I would run into one of you,” the fire spirit said in a whispery voice that sounded like it belonged to a male. I could see the outline of a face in the flames, but every time I thought I knew what the spirit looked like, the fire shifted.

“Well, here we are,” I said, sheathing my blade.

“I’m glad you realize that a flaming sword would be useless against me.”

“It was sort of instinctual to pull it out,” I told the fire spirit.

I had my hand at my side now, ready to cast the Rune of Inquiry, just waiting for the right moment.

“Do you know what I did to the last person that came up here?” he asked in his whispery voice.

“No idea.”

“Sift through my ashes and you will find out.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Are you a treasure hunter?” the fire spirit asked.

“No, I’m a…” I almost said the word ‘monk,’ but went with something more familiar instead. “I’m an outsider.”

“Then you will die an outsider,” he said, flaring up.

“Hold on,” I told the spirit.

“Do what?” he asked, the warmth of his flames reaching my face.

Crap.

Unfortunately, our little exchange here was nothing like the exchange Lhandon and I’d had in the cave with the ice spirit. This one wasn’t claiming to be anything; there was no lie to uncover.

But if any question worked…

“May I ask you a question?”

I traced up Lha-Ra while he considered my request, a glow emanating all around me for just a brief moment that only I could see.

The Rune of Inquiry spell was in full effect.

“What kind of question do you have?”

“Just one, a simple one.”

“Okay, I suppose I can answer a simple question.”

I grinned at the spirit. “Have you ever met a man from Massachusetts?”

“Massachusetts?” The fire spirit floated a bit lower to the ground. “Massachusetts…” he said again, trying to place the word. “I don’t believe that I have, no.”

“Got you!” I said, revealing the tiny glass jar that Lhandon had given me. I’d even managed to pop the top off.

“Why are you showing me that?” the spirit asked, his form compressing even more.

I gulped as I realized it hadn’t worked, that he had answered honestly, he really didn’t think that he had met someone from Massachusetts.

Which meant I had an hour to kill before I could ask another question.

“This thing?” I asked, chuckling nervously. “I just thought that you would find it… well-made. What do you think? Nice jar, right?”

“Let me take a closer look at it,” the fire spirit said, shrinking in size and floating over to me. “The glass is murky and poorly made,” he finally said. “If you want good glass, you need to go to Sarpang, home of the Druk people.”

“Druk people?”

“Have you ever met one? They have reptilian skin.”

I recalled some of the people I’d seen in Nagchu with the snake-like faces. I also remembered Lhandon mentioning them. “Yes,” I said, taking a step back from the fire spirit. “I’ve seen several in Nagchu.”

“Are you from Nagchu?” the fire spirit asked, his form rising back into the air. I could still feel his warmth, but it wasn’t as bad as before.

“No, I’m actually from Massachusetts.”

“Then I guess that answers your question, I have met someone from Massachusetts. And where’s that anyway? One of the island kingdoms?”

“No. It’s somewhere far away.”

“Interesting, well, I suppose it was nice meeting you,” he said, flaring up again.

“You still plan to kill me?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a treasure hunter, and I hate treasure hunters.”

“I’m not a treasure hunter,” I assured him. “I’m an outsider who has sort of become a monk.”

“Can’t an outsider who has sort of become a monk be a treasure hunter as well?”

“Sure, anyone can be a treasure hunter, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I see, so you aren’t interested in the bell?”

“No, I am interested in the bell, but I’m only interested in ringing it.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe you.”

“What would make you believe me?”

“That’s a very good question,” the fire spirit said. “I suppose I would have to trust you, to feel like I know you better.”

“Then how about this, let’s spend the next hour getting to know each other better. What do you say? If in an hour’s time, you don’t feel like you know me better, then…” I swallowed hard. “Then you can kill me, or at least you can try. I’ll fight back.”

“As anyone should when their life is at risk. As for getting to know each other better…” He mulled this over for a moment, floating back and forth until finally settling on an answer. “I suppose there’s no harm in that. Sure, let’s get to know each other better. That sounds interesting.”

“I only know one other spirit at the moment, and she’s more of a dakini, so this will be interesting for me as well.”

“You know a dakini?” The fire spirit lowered to the ground and took a seat, a black mark forming in the soil, the snow around him melting immediately.

“I sure do.”

I explained the encounters I’d had with Dema, still trying to think of a way to get the fire spirit to lie to me. I had one hour to figure it out, and since I didn’t have a clock, I would really have to guess when that hour had passed.

Maybe I could tell him why I was up here, maybe that would help, but that didn’t mean he would let me go after ringing the bell.

“How long have you been a fire spirit?” I asked, hoping this would keep him talking.

“I don’t know if that’s something I can tell you,” he said almost bashfully. “A spirit never tells his age to a stranger. I can say this, though: like you, I’m just trying to cultivate good karma. And one can cultivate at any age.”

“Actually, I have been meaning to ask about this,” I said, also taking a seat in front of the bell. “So you were reborn as a spirit?”

“That is correct.”

“Then what is a spirit’s relation to the Overworld and the Underworld?”

“I’m from the Underworld, or at least I was reborn there. I made my way here by promising to do good, and hopefully, I’ll be reborn either here in the Middle Plane, or if I’m lucky and humble, in the Overworld.”

   “And that’s why you are guarding the Hermit Bell?”

“It is precisely why. This bell was forged by an immortal, one of the first. And because of the value of the relic, both in its material and the power radiating off it, the bell has become a sought after item by treasure hunters.”

“It has?”

He nodded. “So I’m here guarding it.”

“I’m here to ring it,” I told him, “not steal it. I am coming from the Monastery of the Exonerated One, which is now under new, um, ownership. That’s not the right word. The Exonerated One passed, and the only monk left alive was Lhandon, the Exalted One. He is a friend of mine, a dear friend, and together we protected the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom,” I said, nodding to my weapon. “He asked that I come up here to ring the bell; the monastery may be attacked by Madame Mabel in the coming days, and we need all the help we can get.”

“Why would she care about a monastery?”

“Good question with a relatively simple answer: I destroyed her crop of lotus, and not an insignificant amount either. I burned all the lotus she had stored in a warehouse, and the only crop she still had in her field. She’s not happy.”

“Lotus does terrible things to people,” the fire spirit said with a shudder. “The previous treasure hunter I killed was high off lotus when he reached here.”

“He must have passed right by the monastery then; the pathway to this bell isn’t far from there.”

“There are other ways to get here. Treasure hunters are clever, I know from experience, and they will scale the side of an icy mountain if it means they’re able to reach a rare relic or treasure. And there are more hunters in these parts now, many more than there were a few centuries ago when I started my guard.”

“Well, I’m not one of them.”

“Perhaps that is true.”

“I don’t believe this to be the case, but Baatar the Eternal Hermit has said that I may be what he calls a Golden One, which if I’m not mistaken is a reborn student, meaning that I’m no different than anyone else. I’m only telling you this so you can understand how little I have in common with these treasure hunters.”

“A Golden One, huh?”

I cringed. It sounded way braggy going with this line of reasoning, so I shifted gears. “In fact, I killed Fist of Force, a treasure hunter, to get this ring.” I showed him the ring on my finger.

“Did you now?” he asked, raising a curious, flaming eyebrow. “The treasure hunter who came here the other day also worked for Fist of Force.”

“Well he doesn’t work with him any longer, and not because you burnt him to a crisp; the famous treasure hunter is dead.”

“He may be dead, but he has disciples, and word can spread pretty quickly in these parts.”

“In these mountains?” I asked, taking a quick glance around.

“I am not like a lot of these other spirits. Some of them are true gossipers, and many take advantage of the fact that they were given access to this realm. Fornicating, tricking people, spreading rumors. Spirits do all sorts of things once they’re let out of the Underworld.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you are not like them,” I said, recalling getting sprayed with cold ‘water’ during an encounter with fornicating spirits.

“I simply guard the bell to prevent anyone from taking it.”

“You can ring the bell for me if you’d like,” I said, realizing he had no appendages, “I’m fine with that as well. We just want to let any hermits in the area know that the monastery may be under siege soon, as in the next two days. My plan was to come up here tonight, ring the bell and travel back down. That’s it.”

“I appreciate that you are being honest with me.”

“I appreciate your honesty as well. Do you remember what you were before you were a fire spirit?”

“How could I forget? I was a treasure hunter, which is why I know so much about them. There’s still something about these old relics, these treasures, that makes me excited, but now it isn’t in a greedy way, now it’s in a… way of preservation. I want them to always be around, for people to see where they’ve come from, to respect the past and understand how it affects the future.”

“So…” I smiled at him. “I guess that makes sense. You’re a treasure hunter, and you were banished to the Underworld when you died.”

“Oh, I was definitely banished. I killed countless monks, women, children, all in the pursuit of wealth. It took me a couple hundred years to accumulate enough good favor in the Underworld to be allowed to return to the Middle Plane. And however long I’m here, be it a thousand years or ten thousand, I will endeavor to stop people from abusing these relics, from razing their pasts.”

I nodded, an idea coming to me. It was worth a shot, and it would be way better than trying to capture the fire spirit. “Are you interested in joining me?”

“Joining you?”

“Full disclosure: I cast a rune that would allow me to capture you, but I don’t want to capture you. I don’t want to fight you. Joining me may help you cultivate karma in a faster way. I could use your help in the upcoming battle, and from there, the Exalted One and I plan to search across the land for the Exonerated One’s reincarnation. I will also try to find some old friends of mine, ones that were transported to this world.”

“Transported here?”

“I meant it when I said that I was an outsider. I’m from another world entirely, and I was at a bachelor’s party with my friends when a portal brought me here. Not only do I want to find my friends or those that are still with me,” I said, thinking of both Bobby and Tom, “I want to find out how this portal was opened in the first place.”

“And you’re asking me to join you in your quest?” he asked, flames flaring from the crown of his head.

“Yes. I believe we have similar goals. I don’t want to capture you; I don’t want to fight you.”

“I don’t have the same type of free will that I should have, especially because I have affixed myself to this place for karmic reasons, taking a vow to protect the bell,” he finally said. “But I would like to join you.”

“What do you mean you don’t have the same kind of free will?”

“Because of the vow I took, I can’t travel around freely like some of the spirits.”

“And if I captured you?”

His fiery cheeks lifted into a smile. “Then I could.”

“Well, I still have the ability to capture you, but it will be at least an hour before I can use it. All you have to do is answer my question with a lie. Now that you know I’m from Massachusetts, I can ask the same question, and you can simply lie to me.”

“I see,” he said, his flame settling. “Then that is what we’ll do.”

“If you’re ever ready to return here, let me know, and I will personally bring you up here and release you. You have my word.”

“I’ll keep this in mind,” he said, blue flames licking off the place where his upper back should have been. “What is your name, outsider?”

“Nick Barnette, but you can call me Nick. Yours?”

He sighed deeply. “I haven’t had a name in a very long time. But before, when I was a treasure hunter, I went by the name Tashi. So you can call me that.”

“Nice to meet you, Tashi.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Nick.”

Chapter Thirty-Four: Change of Plans

I kept the glass jar next to me as I slept, the top open, just in case the fire spirit wanted to come out. I never got cold that night, as warmth constantly radiated from the jar, and the next morning I wasn’t surprised to find a fire, Tashi floating near it.

“Just let me eat something and then we’ll be on our way,” I told him.

“Would you like me to warm anything up for you?”

“I just have some bread and potatoes…” I looked up at him. “I suppose you could warm the potatoes. That would be nice.”

I got the potatoes out of my pack and placed them on a small metal plate that Lhandon had packed for me.

Tashi floated over to them and waved his hand above the two potatoes, both of which warmed up rapidly, cracking at the top.

“Here we go,” I said as I carefully took one of the potatoes and almost dropped it.

I let it cool just a little and ate the potatoes, following it up with some bread.

“There’s a cup around here somewhere,” Tashi said, nodding to a snowdrift about fifteen feet away.

I dug through the snow until I found the silver cup, which I filled with fresh snow.

“Nothing like a cup of warm water to start your day. I miss food,” the fire spirit said as he heated up the water.

“I prefer coffee, but since no one seems to have that here, water will do.”

“Is that like tea?”

“Sure, it’s like tea. Only stronger.”

We started back toward the monastery, Tashi floating in the air beside me. His glass jar was still in the pocket of my robes, and every now and then I would reach my hand in and touch it, noticing that it was warm.

Tashi was tied to the jar because of the runic spell, but he was also able to float next to me without causing a line of fire between us.

Probably a good thing.

As we walked, I told him more about what I had done in Nagchu, and why he would have been incredibly helpful there.

“Show me your weapon again,” he said, nodding toward the hilt of my sword.

“Sure,” I told him as I drew the Flaming Thunderbolt, fire sparking off the blackened steel.

“I wonder what happens if I…” Tashi reached a tendril of flame out and touched the blade, and the fire grew even larger, to the point that I felt like I needed to shield myself from it. There wasn’t any heat coming off it.

“Interesting,” I told him. “The sword’s fire doesn’t affect me, and if you touch the sword…” I slowly reached my hand to it, my fingers pressing through the flames.

“It still doesn’t affect you?”

“Nope,” I said, waving my hand through the fire.

“This could be incredibly helpful.”

“Lethal was the word I was looking for.”

We continued along our way, Tashi telling me about his time as a treasure hunter and some of the great robberies that he’d been part of. I couldn’t keep up with all the names of the places he’d visited, but it sounded fascinating, and sometimes when I looked at him I could see who he was inside, the person within the flames.

It was nice having a companion to walk with, and at some point, we got onto the topic of reincarnation.

“Is there an average length a spirit has to stay in the Middle Plane to die and be reincarnated?” I asked him.

“I wish there was some chart that gave this information out,” he said, “but unfortunately, we are stuck guessing and hoping. Maybe this is by design. Maybe the true power of religion is the hope it instills, not necessarily the blessings it gives. But who am I to comment on the Way?”

“I don’t know, you’ve seen a lot. For one, you’ve actually been to the Underworld. Maybe you’re the right person to comment on it. Have you practiced any of the paths? I mean, am I asking that right? You know what I’m saying.”

“I haven’t really chosen a path, to be honest with you. I suppose I am on the Path of the Divine, but if this is the case, I don’t think I’m anything better than a Broken Sword. You?”

“I have been told that I am a Wheel with a Rusty Axle,” I said.

“I’m surprised they haven’t said that you are Ink in the Sea.”

“That’s the next step up, right?”

He nodded, passing under some icicles hanging from a root that had grown out of the side of a rock wall. The water sizzled as Tashi moved next to it, turning to steam.

“I’m excited for Lhandon to meet you,” I told him honestly. “He has a spirit that he has captured as well, an ice spirit, but he’s never let the spirit out of the jar. The spirit tried to trick us.”

“Ice spirits will do that to you, at least the ones I’ve met,” he said with a chuckle. “They can be pretty clever as well.”

“He would have tricked me if I’d encountered him alone,” I said, recalling the explicit riddle that Lhandon had used to trick the spirit into lying to us.

“The spirit is under this monk’s power now, so there’s nothing to worry about. It won’t be able to trick you anymore,” Tashi said, a lick of purple flame appearing inside his forearm and drifting up to his head and out the back of his skull.

“You think?”

“It might be a blessing, actually,” he said. “Just think about it. You now have a fire and an ice spirit able to help you along your journey. There isn’t much that fire or ice can’t solve.”

“True.”

It was another several hours until we reached the monastery. In that time, Tashi had told me about an interesting way to think of runic characters, something he would show me later. We’d also discussed protecting the monastery, and it was through that discussion that a new idea had come up.

I recalled what I had seen hovering above Madame Mabel during the dinner we shared. It was worth investigating, but to do so would severely change our plans.

Lhandon was ecstatic to see me as I reached the courtyard. He stood outside, sifting some vegetable clippings into a compost pile.

“Roger just went out on a patrol,” he said, “Hopefully he won’t be long. I truly am excited that you are back, Nick. As we’ve been discussing, I thought deeply about a way to restructure the Path of the Divine. Looking through some of the old books in the Exonerated One’s library gave me some ideas as well. I am not ready to reveal what I have begun to develop, but I will be soon.”

“That’s great.”

“I believe Altan will be a test for the strength of the system I have conceived. You can be a test as well. You are willing to, are you not?”

“Of course, as long as it doesn’t involve locking me in a meditation chamber deep in the ground…”

Lhandon smiled. “That wasn’t quite my plan. But if you must know, I want a way for someone to be able to track their progress, to possibly use a runic power to be able to check themselves, so they can see how far they have advanced along the Path, and to know when they have moved to the next stage. I believe that is the most important. Up until now, we were told by a higher monk if we had reached the next stage. But how did they know? Why can’t these powers be universal? Why can’t someone track their own progress once learning the Path?”

“Those are all great questions. I look forward to seeing what you’ve come up with.”

Altan and Lhandon had done a decent job of shoring up the place. None of the glass was exposed, and from what I could tell the side entrances were barricaded too. I didn’t know how the two had mustered the strength to push one of the snow lion statues in front of the entry door, but they had.

“I rang the bell,” I told him. “Did you hear it from down here?”

“No, unfortunately, I didn’t,” he said. “But it isn’t my ears that matter; hopefully at least one of the hermits comes to our aid. And you managed to capture a spirit?”

“Actually, I ended up making a friend,” I said, taking the jar from my robe and unscrewing the top.

Tashi took shape, far enough to my right that I couldn’t feel his flames.

“A fire spirit?” Lhandon asked, gasping.

“It is nice to meet you,” Tashi said, bowing his flaming head. “Please call me Tashi.”

“Same to you, and please call me Lhandon,” the monk said, returning the bow. “The reason I’m gasping is…”

He bit his lip for a moment, running his hand along his ponytail as he looked down at the pavement. Naturally, I looked to the same place that he was looking and saw the crater that I had caused in my fight against the Exonerated One.

“He’s back,” Altan said, stepping out of the monastery. It was nice seeing him in robes, the former slave carrying an empty pail. He went to a dragon-headed spout near the back entrance and started to get some water.

“We’ll be there in just a moment,” Lhandon called over to him. He returned his focus to me. “I’m just going to come out and say it. I have been spending more time in the library, and I found one of the original texts on a Golden One.”

“More prophecy stuff?” I asked him.

“I’d only heard stories, but I had never read the actual text, and what the Exonerated One has is not complete. There are other portions of it. But the scroll he has tells of an outsider taking a powerful weapon and befriending animals and spirits.”

“I’m no different than anyone else here, aside from my origins. In fact, if we were to compare ourselves on the path, you would be up here,” I told him, lifting my hand, “and I would be down here. There’s always prophecies that talk about some outsider coming in and changing things. That’s a trope. But I don’t want to be thought of as that. I’m Nick. And I know, I’ve exhibited some power. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Tashi chuckled. “Such humility, you’d think he had just come down from a silent retreat.”

Lhandon nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Fine, Nick, I won’t refer to you as Nick the Golden One, or anything like that, but I will treat you as a reborn student who has now reached the stage of Wheel with a Rusty Axle. And I will say that you have shown up from someplace no one has ever heard of, you can talk to birds, you have a powerful weapon and you have befriended a fire spirit. Coincidence? Sure. Let’s just go with coincidence.”

“It’s usually easier that way.”

He turned to the monastery. “I was about to prepare dinner. Perhaps you would like to join me, and tell me of your journey to the Hermit Bell and how you came across Tashi.”

Tashi and I followed Lhandon inside. Altan passed by us again, and took a step back once he saw the fire spirit. He continued on his way, bringing more water in. The window was open, and a few minutes later Roger appeared, the handsome bird excited to see me.

“I’m surprised I didn’t catch you while I was out on patrol,” he said, hopping around on the countertop.

“You can only see so much at one time,” I told him, “and I’m wearing brown, so I blend in a bit. Also, this is Tashi. Tashi, Roger.”

“Hey,” Roger said, not at all disturbed by the fire spirit.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You two can understand each other?” I asked.

“Yes,” Tashi said, Roger nodding as well.

“I remain the only person not in the loop,” Lhandon lamented. “But it would be unwise to complain about it.”

“I love this guy,” Roger said, cackling. “He’s been a nervous wreck since you left.”

“What did he say?” Lhandon asked.

“He said you’ve been a gracious host in my absence.”

“Nonsense. If the bird told you that, he’s lying. I’ve been an utter mess,” the monk said, focused again on cutting carrots. “Now, tell me about yourself, Tashi.”

The fire spirit launched into the explanation of what he’d been doing at the Hermit Bell, and why he decided to join with me after hearing of my struggles.

“Volunteering yourself to the service of someone like Nick, and for that matter, this monastery, is the type of selfless act that will lead to a rebirth outside of the Underworld,” Lhandon said. “I’m sure you are aware of this.”

“Mildly aware,” Tashi told him. “But I’m more interested in doing good, and for the last couple of centuries, I thought that good would come from guarding the bell and attacking any treasure hunters that tried to steal it.”

“So you’ve grown bored,” Roger said.

“Sure, that too. I was alive a long time ago, nearly a thousand years, and as much as I would like to say the Kingdom of Lhasa has changed since then, it really hasn’t. People are still iniquitous; people still only look out for themselves; and there has been little advancement. If I am to eventually be reborn here, I would like that to have changed by then.”

“Yes, a very noble thing to say,” Lhandon told him. “I can only imagine what it would be like to look back and see nothing had changed in such a long time. Hopefully, true change is on the way, lasting and inspiring change.”

Once we were done in the kitchen, we moved to the dining room, where Altan joined us.

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Lhandon started to say. “Or maybe it’s the next day. Either way, they should reach here soon.”

Tashi was now back in my pocket, but I did feel him warm up a bit, reminding me of the discussion we’d had during our journey back from the Hermit Bell.

“Actually, I know that we already have a plan in motion here, but if I may…” I cleared my throat and pushed my plate away. “After discussing our plans with Tashi, I’ve come up with an idea that is radically different than what we originally conceptualized. I know we went to the trouble of ringing the Hermit Bell, but just hear me out here.”

“Go on,” Lhandon said, setting down his piece of bread.

I brought my hands to the table, drumming my fingers for a moment. “It’s going to be risky, but it may give us the edge we need…”

Chapter Thirty-Five: Runic Combat

“I am surprised Lhandon agreed to it,” Tashi said. We were in the courtyard now, a star-filled night above us, the moon absent. Lhandon was getting packed up, as was Altan, the former slave even more reluctant than the monk was about our plan.

“I am surprised as well.”

“I kind of knew he would go for it,” Roger said.

Tashi laughed. “You seem to know him quite well.”

“Oh yeah, the monk and I go way back. Basically, I met him on a mountain and then we came back here together. So maybe not that far back. And he can’t understand me. But that’s water under the bridge by this point.”

“But I know what I saw,” I reminded the two. “Something has possessed Madame Mabel, and that something is worth taking down.”

I sat in front of Tashi, the fire spirit illuminating a small portion of the courtyard. He could control how bright he got, similar to dimming a lightbulb. At his current level, he was hardly bright enough to illuminate some of the branches of the trees that surrounded the courtyard.

There was something definitely eerie about it, ethereal too.

“Since you are familiar with some of the script,” Tashi started to say, “or at least you’re able to use a few runes, maybe some of this will make sense to you.”

“Should Lhandon be here for this?” I asked him.

“Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“I’ll get him,” Roger said, taking off toward the monastery.

The bird entered through the only window that wasn’t boarded up and returned with Lhandon a few minutes later.

“It seems as if I’m starting to understand Roger,” the monk joked as he took a seat next to me. He had to waddle a bit, but once he was in a good position, he nodded up at the fire spirit, a bit out of breath, but content nonetheless.

“Where do you think the old characters came from?” Tashi asked both of us. “I’m not talking about the new, simplified characters. I’m talking about the really old ones, the characters that are used to form runes.”

“Well, eventually written language was needed…”

“Incorrect,” Tashi told Lhandon. “I mean, it is true that the written language has helped commerce, but the original characters, the ones that hold magical power when used correctly, these actually come from combat.”

“From combat?” I asked as Roger landed on my shoulder.

Lhandon shook his head. “How is that even possible?”

“Let’s start on some of the easier characters,” the fire spirit said, flaring up a bit. “Both of you know the scripts for Ra?”

I glanced at Lhandon, trying to remember what it looked like. The image came to me, a downward stroke with a circle above it.

“I remember,” I said as Tashi lifted a flaming hand from his form, a shoulder and below bubbling into place as small plumes of blue fire took shape.

Another hand appeared, and once they were both bright, he performed a quick downward punch with his left fist followed by a right punch that moved right over his previous strike.

In doing so, he left a fiery trail of the movement he had made, and sure enough, it looked just like Ra.

“Oh my…” Lhandon said, bringing his hand to his mouth. “Roger, will you please get Altan? He needs to be part of this as well.”

“Hey, just because…” Roger lifted off my shoulder. “Fine, fine,” he said as he flew back to the monastery.

“And all the characters are like that? I’m sorry, but this is something that I’ve never heard before. What about…” Lhandon thought for a moment. “What about a more complicated one, like Ge?”

Before I could try to figure out what ‘Ge’ looked like, legs started to grow out of Tashi’s form. He brought them wide and traced his hands upward into a flattened U-shape, and then straight down, throwing them wide, followed by an elaborate leg maneuver.

“Amazing,” Lhandon said after the character solidified in the air, leaving another fiery trail.

“Some of these are more artistic than they are practical,” Tashi explained, “but they all are forms of an ancient combat system.”

Altan stepped out of the monastery and quickly made his way over to us. He took a seat near me and looked up at the character still glowing in the air.

“I’ve never seen that character before,” he said.

“You will learn it one day,” Lhandon told him. “Tell me an old character that you do know, just not a simplified one.”

“Lha?” Altan offered. “I think everyone knows that.”

Tashi took a wide leg position. He lifted his leg and perform two rapid-fire kicks about a foot apart from one another followed up by four-pointed fist attack, cutting his hands down into a V-shape. Sure enough, it made a square with a line attached to it, two slash marks beneath it.

“Crazy,” I said, instantly recognizing the character.

“They all work that way,” Tashi explained, “and that’s where all of the ancient characters came from. From combat. This is why many of them, when transmitted correctly or offered to the right person, still carry some power.”

“What about actual runic spells?” Lhandon asked. “Surely those didn’t come from combat.”

“Those get a little more complicated, but from what I’ve learned, characters with subscripts and superscripts came later, which is why they are cast by hand. It’s faster to trace something with a finger than to go through a full-body motion.”

He went on to demonstrate a few other characters, as all of us watched in awe. Lhandon identified the characters as they fizzled out. Roger sat on my shoulder throughout the entire demonstration, clucking every now and then as he shook his head.

“That sure is something,” the bird said at least three times.

Once Tashi was finished, he bowed to us. The three of us stood and returned the bow, Roger also bowing his head while still perched on my shoulder.

“I appreciate your transmission,” Lhandon said. “I can literally feel the karmic forces coming off you through the knowledge that you’ve offered us. The characters are based on combat. Who would have thought? I have so many questions, but I will reserve them for another time. Perhaps if one of the hermits comes…” He shook his head. “That’s right, we have other plans now.”

“I’m sure we’ll encounter another hermit,” I told Lhandon. “Baatar said he’d visit after he finished his meditation.”

“Hopefully,” the monk said with a tinge of apprehension in his voice.

“Thank you, again,” Altan told Tashi. “It will be a while before I can truly understand what you’ve shown us here, but I appreciate the transmission.”

Rather than have everyone continue to humbly thank each other, I reminded the group that we had an early start.

“Always a realist,” Roger said, making Tashi laugh again.

“The bird is very funny.” The fire spirit started to grow smaller, to the point that he fit back into the small glass jar in my hand.

“You don’t have to stay in there, you know,” I started to tell him.

“Actually, it may be better if you’re just simply around the monastery tonight,” Lhandon said, “just in case we have any unwanted visitors.”

“As you wish,” Tashi said, genieing back out of the glass jar.

“And you’re sure this passageway you told us of leads all the way to Nagchu, right?” Lhandon asked as we all made our way back to the monastery.

“If it is still there, then I’m sure. And I don’t believe it has disappeared. Nagchu wasn’t always a farming city near the sea. Thousands of years ago, it was a place for treasure hunters, far enough away from the rest of Lhasa that we didn’t have to worry about them finding us. To get there, we would make our way through passageways that were cut into the mountains by dragons. The passageways are much faster, and it should only take us six or seven hours at the most to reach the city.”

“Any idea where it lets out at?” I asked him.

It was something I had been meaning to ask earlier.

“Actually, if I’m not mistaken, the tunnel lets out near the back of the plantation, which according to you isn’t very far from Madame Mabel’s estate.”

“It’s going to be one hell of a fight tomorrow, especially now that we’re going to Nagchu,” Roger said as we entered the monastery. “I wish I had a way to sharpen my dagger in here.”

“I just worry about the monastery while we are gone,” Lhandon said, which was the same concern he’d had when we discussed our change of plans over dinner.

“Wait, don’t you still have that ice spirit?” I asked him.

“Of course I do, he’s right here,” Lhandon said, patting at the front of his robes.

“A perfect spirit to guard the monastery,” Tashi added. “I will meet this ice spirit in the morning, and make sure they are able to do the job. I know they are technically your servant now, Exalted One, considering you have captured it, but ice spirits can always be tricky. It’s best that we are sure.”

Lhandon took one last look up at the monastery. It was the next morning now, and the five of us were just about ready to go.

“It’ll still be here,” I told him. “Mabel’s forces don’t usually travel with a monk, right?”

Altan shook his head. “They don’t practice the Way, at least the military leaders don’t. And if it’s Sona, she likely won’t know what to do against an ice spirit like this. Remember, she’s a city girl, a former slave; the mysteries of the mountains around Lhasa are likely things she’s never heard of or dealt with before.”

There was a chill in the air from the ice spirit that Lhandon had captured. The spirit had begrudgingly cooperated, especially after speaking with Tashi, and Lhandon had also left a special message for any hermit that made it here.

I could see the ice spirit now, ballooned to an impossibly large size as it hovered in the air above the monastery, the morning sun cutting arcs of light through it.

As we started down the steps, our path lined with blue prayer flags beating in the frigid wind, my thoughts returned to the squad we were bringing to Madame Mabel’s plantation. A dagger-wielding bird? An apprehensive monk? A former slave? A random guy from Massachusetts? A fire spirit trying to atone for his soul?

If we were lucky, Madame Mabel’s forces would mostly be out on patrol looking for me. That or going to Bamda to start a war, leaving us with whatever had stayed behind.

Either way, we were in for a hell of a fight.

Tashi grew in size once we reached the bottom of the steps, careful not to ignite any of the trees around us.

“It’s just over there,” he said, pointing toward a series of rolling hills.

While it may have appeared close, it took us another fifty minutes to make our way down the hill, then up another, avoiding some of the sharper rocks, until we came to a bush covered space between the hills, large trees over it.

“Is there a rune or something that you need to open it?” Lhandon asked, frowning at the underbrush.

“No, treasure hunters were usually too busy trying to flee someone through this exit to have time to cast a rune. You see, while it looks obvious now, there are over two dozen spots just like this in these hills. The same style trees, the same style of bushes, although now, it’s been a thousand years, and everything has grown out even more.”

“Then how do you know this is the right spot?” Altan asked.

“Yeah,” Roger commented from the sky above. “I can’t see anything from up here aside from a bitchy-looking owl.”

“There are just some things you know,” Tashi said. “Head to the left of those bushes there, and careful, they have thorns. Once we get there, we’ll come to two caverns. Go into the cavern on the left; the cavern on the right is a trap.”

Following Tashi’s instructions, we entered the narrow cavern. The space smelled of wet stone, and the walls were overgrown with moss.

“This is but a taste of some of the forgotten locations in Lhasa,” Tashi explained as we continued down the dark tunnel, our path now lit by the fire spirit. “There are more mysteries than any person could ever record, from the highest peaks to the fertile valleys and everything in between. Have you ever heard of the bird people?”

“I have not,” Lhandon said. He looked to Altan, who also shook his head.

“They may still be there, but I’ve heard multiple times that some of the rarer relics in the kingdom were created by them.”

“Did you say bird people?” Roger asked.

“You haven’t heard of them either?”

“Sure haven’t,” he told the fire spirit. “And trust me, if there was someone else who was a bird that could potentially talk to me, and this person was possibly related to the human inhabitants of Lhasa, I would know about it.”

“Just how far up in the mountains have you been?”

“As far as I’d like to go,” Roger admitted.

“They may still be up there,” Tashi said.

“What do they look like?”

“Well for one, they have wings. Which should be obvious. Otherwise, they look like humans.”

“They don’t have bird faces?” Roger asked.

“No, no beaks either, although their ceremonial masks are carved like bird faces. They do, however, have talons, similar to yours.”

“So they have arms, wings, talons and normal human faces?” Roger laughed.

“You laugh now, but they can be quite intimidating. They attacked a group I was traveling with once, and only a few of us survived. Anyway, if even you haven’t heard of them, then maybe they have all died off. Still, if someone was interested in looking for a rare relic, it would be good to find their village.”

“It sounds like someone’s interested in doing some treasure hunting,” I told Tashi.

“Is that what you three have been discussing?” Lhandon asked.

“Sort of.”

“Considering the mission that you have tasked yourself with,” Tashi told me, “you may find something helpful there.”

I smirked at the fire spirit. “First we deal with Madame Mabel, then we look for the Exonerated One’s reincarnation, then we try to find my friends Hugo and Tom, and somewhere in all of that we look for the bird people.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds impossible,” Lhandon said.

“One step at a time,” I reminded him. Altan looked to me, and I could tell that the former slave was reluctant to go back to the plantation. I couldn’t really blame him. He had finally escaped, only to head back to the place of his imprisonment just a few days later.

But I had already assured him over breakfast that we wouldn’t be long, and that we wouldn’t be staying. And as gruesome as it sounded, Tashi had personally promised to kill him if it looked like we were going to be captured.

But we weren’t going to be captured; our plan was only to deal with the evil spirit that had clearly possessed Madame Mabel.

The tunnel opened up, a chill in the air making my teeth chatter.

While it was nice having a flaming sword, it wasn’t as nice as it would have been if the blade could actually warm me. Luckily, Tashi was close enough that I could feel his fire, and after Lhandon asked him to warm the place, the spirit grew even larger.

We walked for three hours and finally took a break, Tashi lighting the area so we could have a meal.

Three more hours and my legs started to get tired. I had grown more accustomed to walking, and it was better now that I had Fist of Force’s boots, but it still hurt to be on my feet for so long.

“The exit is about thirty minutes away, give or take,” Tashi said as we came to a steep slope, the space wide, the low ceiling making it so I had to duck slightly.

“We should rest here,” Lhandon said. “It is still daylight outside.”

“And the closer we get to the entrance, the more possible it will be for them to see our flames,” I added.

“Nope, they won’t be able to see anything,” said Tashi. “The exit point is sealed off.”

“Then how are we going to open it?” Altan asked.

“I remember the rune,” the fire spirit assured him. “I won’t be able to cast it in this form, but I can quickly show it to you, Exalted One. There will be a space for you to trace it.”

“I understand,” Lhandon said.

“Then let’s take a seat here,” I said, dropping to the ground and letting my legs relax for a minute. I even took off my boots, stretching my feet out.

“So the plan is to just go in there and kill her, right?” Roger asked. “Because it’s not going to be as easy as it sounds.”

“We’re not trying to kill her,” I reminded him, “we’re trying to see about the spirit that has possessed her. And to do any of that, we’ll need intel.”

“That’s where I come in,” Roger said. “It isn’t uncommon to see a bird like me in Nagchu. As soon as we are out of this dreary cave, I will scope the place out.”

“What’s he saying?” Lhandon asked.

“That he’ll fly around to see what kind of guards we’re dealing with.”

“Have you thought more about what should be done if Mabel is killed?” Tashi asked me. “I know that isn’t the plan, but these things do happen, and there’s no telling what kind of spirit has possessed her.”

“In that case, maybe simply her death, and the liberation it would cause, will create its own natural order.”

“In what world?” the fire spirit asked.

“It happens sometimes,” Roger answered. “At least in the animal kingdom. But someone will always become top dog. So Tashi is right. Simply killing her will not stop someone from just taking her place and claiming the slaves as their own, nor will it stop this spirit you saw from just doing the same thing again.”

“The simple fact that we have taken out their leader will create more issues than the management there has the ability to handle,” Lhandon said. “If the order that is finally formed will be good, that is one thing. But it could also be the reverse.”

The fire spirit nodded. “It may create a situation where there are countless deaths.”

“Not if we get the word out to escape,” I told Tashi.

“Some of the slaves, at least the smarter ones, will escape as soon as they know that Madame Mabel is dead or compromised. It will affect the morale of the troops, especially when it reaches whatever forces Sona has in the hills. I think the drop in morale alone is worth it,” Altan said. “Very risky, but worth it. It will take a much more complicated plan to actually liberate all the slaves, and do so in a fair way.”

“And I admit that that’s not a plan that I have. My plan is mostly to stir the pot,” I told them honestly.

Doubt came over me. I’d been so sure of this plan up to this point, and now I was wondering how it would leave Nagchu and its people.

I shook my head. “I told you what I saw at our dinner,” I reminded all of them. “There was something controlling her, floating just above her. I saw it; I felt it. Maybe things would be different if she wasn’t possessed. I was right there in front of her, I could almost reach out and touch the thing that was hovering over her. So that’s our target. I have attacked a spirit before, and hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this without killing a lot of people.”

“Or people killing other people,” Tashi added.

“Either way, we’re playing with some serious karmic forces,” Lhandon told the group. “We have to tread carefully here; it might take a lifetime of repenting and virtuous deeds to correct what we’re about to do. The fewer deaths, the better.”

“Agreed,” I said.

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Plantation

The rune Tashi taught Lhandon sounded complicated at four syllables, even if I recognized at least three of them.

Lhandon approached a piece of the rock wall that had been rubbed flat, its dark surface almost reminding me of a tablet PC.

He started with a downward curve, followed by a cross, then a character that reminded me of the pi symbol. It got more interesting once he added the new character I learned, “Go,” which was a box with a stem and a straight line attached to it. To finish it off, Lhandon followed it with what resembled a fancy acute angle.

“Ra-Ge-Go-Gyal,” Lhandon whispered, the rune coming to life and glowing yellow for a moment, before darkening into amber, and finally a burnt orange that caused a vein of energy to cut into the rock, forming a door.

Once it was cut, the door moved to the side, allowing us to step out.

We were on one of the lower cliffs that looked out over the plantation, vines and moss hanging from the trees in front of us reminding me of pictures of Savannah, Georgia. The city of Nagchu sat beyond the plantation, with its pagoda-style buildings and impressive statues and structures, the sparkling Dorje River running straight through the city and providing plenty of water for Mabel’s plantation.

I watched as Altan took a deep breath in, the man clearly remembering the years upon years that he’d spent in this area.

“Don’t worry,” I told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not sticking around.”

“I’m aware,” he said in a faint voice. “I just got so far away, and to come back…”

“I’ve been there before,” I told him. “But we have an out; we can come back up here and disappear again into the mountains.”

“Or I will just kill all of you,” Tashi reminded us. “I’ll make it quick, too. Death by fire can be excruciating, but if I make it hot enough and you simply burn to a crisp in a matter of seconds, it won’t hurt for very long. And if that happens, I pray that all of you are reborn in the Overworld, that any of your karmic mishaps of the past are forgiven.”

“Oh my,” Lhandon said, taking a nervous step forward.

“Something to look forward to,” I said as I looked for a way down.

I could see that there was a path of sorts, one that likely hadn’t been used in a very long time. It appeared to work its way down the side of the cliff, and we started moving along it.

We reached the jungle on the edge of the plantation, all of us ducking down, Tashi now in his glass jar.

“I guess this is my cue,” Roger said, lifting into the air. “I’ll give you a headcount and any other details I can provide.”

“Good, we’ll be here,” I told him as we crouched near the edge of the jungle.

There were a few lights on the plantation, but everything seemed darker than it had when I was a slave here, and while I couldn’t see the field of lotus, I had a sense it was gone, razed to the ground. There was just something empty about the space where it once sat.

“We should meditate while he’s gone,” Lhandon suggested.

“Not a bad idea,” I said, closing my eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath.

It took me a moment to get in the correct headspace, but soon I imagined myself back in the dark meditation chamber underground, everything around me pitch black, my mind free to wander.

And it was there that I remembered exactly what Mabel’s plantation home looked like, the elaborate and welcoming stairs at the entrance, the servants, the room that I was led to, the dining room, Bobby…

I shook my head, returning my thoughts to the schematics of her home.

A little bit of doubt set in, voices at the back of my head asking if this was the right path, if I was indeed making the right move by going after the head of the snake.

I now sat before Madame Mabel, noticing the strange change in the air around her body, something swirling above her head.

She was possessed.

One look to Bobby and I saw that…

He was possessed too.

I opened my eyes just as Roger landed. “There aren’t many guards,” he said. “Sona’s guards are at the front of the mansion, but there are only a few of them.”

“If there aren’t many guards around her home, maybe…” Altan nodded. “Yes, I’m certain of it. There’s a large courtyard at the back of the house surrounded by beautiful gardens, which should give us plenty of shadows as we make our way to the servants' entrance. There is usually someone there, but if they see me, they should let me in.”

“Or I can just put the person to sleep,” Lhandon suggested. “I don’t like using the more nefarious runes, but if it will help us save lives, then it’s totally worth it. I have a few others I can use as well.”

“Okay, let’s do that,” I said. “Roger, stay above us, and be sure to drop down and tell me if you think that we're going to be spotted.”

“Got it.”

Keeping to the jungle, we began making our way in the direction of Mabel’s home. There were slave quarters to move through first, but that was relatively easy, especially since it was dark and many of the slaves were already asleep. Her mansion sat on a hill, surrounded by enormous trees with gnarled trunks.

The three of us moved quietly up the hill toward the courtyard at the back of the mansion.

I placed my hands around Tashi’s jar, feeling the warmth radiating off the glass. Roger circled above us, occasionally dipping down to let us know our path was clear.

Apprehension came to me; I mentally labeled it and moved on.

It was of no use to me at the moment.

We reached a tall hedge and once Lhandon caught his breath, we moved around to the right, through an opening in another hedge until we came to the courtyard.

“It’s just up there,” Altan said.

Because of the way that the place was designed, there wasn’t any way to reach the door without moving across the courtyard.

“See anything?” I asked Roger after he landed on my shoulder.

“There are just some lanterns in the air,” he said. “Other than that, there’s no one here. They’re all up at the front.”

“Odd,” I said, looking up at the plantation, at the second-floor balcony and its grand pillars.

I dropped my hand to the hilt of my sword as the sky was illuminated, all those lanterns blazing with light. Madame Mabel stood on the second-floor balcony surrounded by her elite guard, at least two dozen heavily armed women all ready to go.

“I was wondering when you would join us,” she called down to us, Lhandon still mid-gasp.

“How…?”

“You aren’t the only one that can speak to birds,” she said, as a black crow landed on the banister. “Goodbye, Nick Barnette.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Showdown

Madame Mabel’s elite guard all slipped into the courtyard at the same time, striking poses.

I pulled my flaming sword out of its sheath, a few of them raising eyebrows once the flame really got going. Three ran forward at once, two slowing so the first could come in for a strike with her katana.

I caught it with my blade and kicked her back.

I knew better than to overthink my actions. These were trained professionals; I just happened to have a flaming sword.

And they were cautious about it too, two of them coming in at once now, trying to throw me off balance. Little did they know about my other power courtesy of Fist of Force, which I used to send one of the women straight into a statue and from there to a fountain.

The other lunged for me and I managed to swipe my blade against her skirt, which caught fire.

“Stay behind me!” I told Alton and Lhandon. Another one of Mabel’s elite guards kicked into action, this one with two short swords, which she used in a blender fashion as she kept spinning, trying to get a cut in.

My instincts had taken over, and unfortunately for her, time had slowed.

I saw her foot coming to the ground, her calf muscle tensing as she twisted back into the air.

So that’s what I focused on, sidestepping her spinning attack and bringing my fists into her side, energy rippling the skin on my knuckles as she flew into a tall hedge.

I was holding my own. I could feel Tashi warming in my robes, screaming to be free.

Men in snow lion armor came running around the mansion, their masks down.

They had chain wrapped fists with spikes on their knuckles, the armor thick enough on their bodies to protect them from normal blows.

I swung my sword at the first one, who blocked it with his forearms and came back around with a kick that connected with the side of my face.

Launching into the air, I almost performed a complete cartwheel before landing on one knee.

I took my sword in my left hand as I charged the man with a fist full of energy. His fist met mine, both of our attacks tossing us backward.

A burst of energy cut forward over my shoulder, taking two of the elite guard off their feet.

I looked right to see Lhandon conjuring up another rune, a determined look on his face.

“What?” he asked me. “You aren’t the only one that can fight!”

Encouraged by his actions, I ran toward my next enemy, flourishing my Flaming Thunderbolt and cutting into one of Madame Mabel’s elite guards, who cried out in pain as her body ignited.

Seeing a flaming person running around was cause for alarm, and two of the elite guards immediately went to her aid while more men with metal-wrapped fists descended upon me.

Time slowed for just a moment, allowing me to sidestep the men, giving me the time I needed to deliver a blow to the back of one of their heads and stab my sword through the body of the other.

Time skipped back to its normal pace; I barely managed to duck a huge blow from one of the lion-masked men. I tried to respond by lopping his arm off, but my blade was unable to penetrate his armor.

It did, however, ignite him. The man fell to the ground immediately as the flames engulfed his body.

I could sense that Tashi was desperate for me to let him out, but I still thought he’d be better as a secret weapon, and I was glad that I had made this decision when even more of Madame Mabel’s guards tried to attack me, an overwhelming number of people coming at me all at once.

I cut three people down at once, a burst of turquoise overhead as Roger collided with Madame Mabel’s crow.

The birds slammed into the ground in front of me, flipping around, Roger getting the upper hand.

“Nick, my dagger,” he screeched. He drove his beak into the crow’s neck, killing it instantly, a splattering of blood now on his turquoise feathers.

I tossed the blade to Roger and he went for it, latching on to the leather tassel on its grip and rising back into the air.

I traded blows with another one of the masked men, blocking his attacks with my own powered fist, eventually able to swing my sword at his leg and ignite him.

Realizing this would be my only way to take down so many combatants, I swung my sword with both fists in front of me, cutting down anyone who dared to get in my path.

They were fast, but I was able to do quite a bit of damage with my flaming blade, especially once the fire spread, a few ignited by their peers.

Another blast of energy flashed in front of me as Lhandon took out a pair of elite guards trying to creep up on me. Altan was fighting too, the former slave beating one of the lion-masked guards with his own helmet.

Roger brought one of the elite guards down using his blade, blood spritzing into the air.

And for a brief moment, I really thought that we had it; I really thought that we were going to win this fight.

But then an arrow struck me in the chest, stunning me, allowing one of the steel-fisted men to sink a fist into my stomach, all the air knocked out of me.

The man was just about to stomp on my head when he was thrown off balance by another blast of energy from Lhandon. Altan charged forward as well, only to be blown back into a statue by a wave of force.

Madame Mabel stood before us now, a furious look on her face as her skin started to bubble. Something began to rise off her form.

It settled, and the woman instructed two of her men to disarm me. My sword was kicked to the side. I heard Lhandon and Altan grunt as they were also brought forward.

“You had a chance to join me, and instead, you took it upon yourself to destroy most of this season’s crop of lotus,” Mabel said. “Notice, I said most. If you think this is my only plantation, you are incredibly inept. But you have done irreparable damage to my industry, and you would be foolish to think I would let you live after such disrespect.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” I told her, spitting blood.

I was pushed onto my knees in front of her, a blade pressing to the back of my neck. Everything was a blur, but even in this state, I knew I still had some options left.

I traced up the rune that allowed me to absorb three blows, keeping my head bowed. Lhandon was already starting to mutter a prayer.

“Finish this.” Madame Mabel said, her voice tinged with disdain.

The blade cracked against my neck and bounced off, as if my skin were made of rubber.

She gasped. “How…?”

I looked up to see a burst of color fly toward Madame Mabel.

Just as Roger was about to reach her, an arrow was fired from the balcony of the plantation.

The arrow struck Roger, tearing through his chest and bringing the bird straight to the ground.

“Roger?” I asked, my train of thought interrupted by the sudden action.

And that’s when I saw him on the balcony, Evan, the bearded fucker now aiming his crossbow at me, energy radiating all around him.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Distortion

Madame Mabel began to transform. The skin on her back simmered, the once-powerful woman convulsing as boils popped on her neck and her arms twitched.

She fell to the ground and let out her last breath, her skin oozing as a terrible creature with demon wings tore out of her flesh, the monster starting to grow in size.

Tentacles formed on its body, razor-sharp teeth taking shape at the end of each appendage. And even though the monster had separated from her body, Madame Mabel continued to writhe, the back of her head slapping against the ground as two mouths formed on the demon’s chest, its face long and filled with black eyes.

One of the tentacles shot toward me, and it would have taken a chunk out of my shoulder too had it not been for my ability to absorb another strike.

My eyes flashed to Roger. Seeing him lying there on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his body, left a sickening feeling in my stomach.

Evan.

I glanced up to see that the man was slipping away.

And it wasn’t quite rage that boiled through me at that moment. No, rage was unmanageable, driven by fear and anger.

What managed to roll through me as I saw Evan escaping was a sense of inner calm tinged with targeted animosity.

Time stopped completely, everything coming to a complete halt.

It was as if I had stepped into a photograph. I’d experienced time slowing down before, but nothing like this—never had it completely frozen.

It gave me a second to catch my breath, to take another glance around the battlefield, to form a plan. After tracing up Healing Hand, I brought my hand in my chest and pulled out the arrow, biting my lip at the pain.

I immediately started to take care of the wound, and once it was healed I dropped down to retrieve my flaming sword. Reaching into my pocket, I found Tashi’s jar and unscrewed the top.

Everything in place, I brought my sword to the ready, as time sped back up.

Tashi attached himself to my blade, an incredible explosion shooting forward, igniting the mansion, a conflagration the likes of which I’d never seen before.

“Go, Nick!” he said, fire danced all around me as he formed a wall of fire to protect Altan and Lhandon.

I charged forward with the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom, advancing on the demon that had been living inside Madame Mabel’s body.

My blade cut through its first tentacle.

I spun, cutting off another limb, growing closer to the beast, continuing to feed off my focused animosity. As I cut through another appendage, time slowed again, back to a standstill, the tentacle frozen in the air in front of me, blood just starting to burst out of it.

“Do not forget everything you have learned,” a voice whispered to me, infiltrating my skull.

My guardian angel stood before me, her white hair waving in a slight breeze that I could not feel.

“They killed him,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Things don’t die the same way here as they do in your world,” Dema reminded me softly. “Find him again.”

She was gone, just as I ducked under another one of the demon’s spiked tentacles, the creature lifting up into the air. Its wings affected the fire, blowing Tashi’s flames back some and kicking up wind.

But this didn’t stop me from reaching it.

Fully in control of my power now, feeling stronger than I’d ever felt before, I surged forward, simply stepping into the air.

One of the elite guards flew out of nowhere with a kick, my arm coming up just in time to send her off.

An arrow came right at my face and I caught it just before it struck me in the eye, throwing it to the side as I swung my blade forward, taking out another one of the demon’s tentacles.

There was no ground, there was no sky, there was only this fight.

Whipping through the air, a trail of fire spinning off my Flaming Thunderbolt, I cut through another tentacle that was seconds away from stabbing me in the chest. I shot forward, twisting under another limb and lopping it off as well.

I caught sight of Tashi’s angry face pressing out of the wall of flames as he blasted in front of me, burning through some of lion-armored soldiers.

Another midair pivot and I met the demon head-on, one of its clawed hands coming out toward me and swiping me to the courtyard. I smacked my head against the stone, absorbing my last “free” attack provided to me by the rune.

I still had plenty of fight left in me.

I was up on my feet in a matter of seconds, looking over to Lhandon and seeing him hovering over Madame Mabel’s dead body, Altan protecting the monk as he performed what I figured were last rites.

Altan waved me toward them, shouting for me to run.

But the demon had to go first, and rather than turn back, I charged the creature, hitting the airwaves again and coming in with an attack across one of the terrible maws jutting from its chest.

It tried to swat me down again, but this time I drove my Flaming Thunderbolt through its wrist, not cutting it off completely but nearly reaching its bone, its flesh partially igniting.

I was flung backward toward the mansion.

And I would’ve hit it too had I not focused my energy midair, coming to a stop and using it as a springboard to send myself spiraling toward the demon.

Yet another one of its tentacles came for me. I managed to punch it aside as the tentacle’s teeth latched onto my arm and tore into it. I felt the sting, but by the time I landed on the ground I’d already healed it, and I leaped back into action.

The power radiating through me was telling me something, and rather than just continue to try to cut down its tentacles, especially at the rate they reformed, I went with my next idea.

“Tashi, give me some fire!” I shouted.

Flames licked the air before me as I dropped down to one knee, my head bowed forward, one hand in front of me in prayer position, my flaming sword at my side.

An energy began to oscillate through me, starting at my lower abdomen, and with my eyes closed, I could actually see the power, a blistering fire inside my skin, in the pit of my belly, which seemed to be maintained by keeping my hand in front of me.

I could feel movement beneath my legs. It was only a few seconds later that I was floating, my Flaming Thunderbolt at the ready, both hands gripping the hilt.

I focused on the demon’s chest, its two mouths, and finally on the monster’s dozens upon dozens of eyes.

I saw more tentacles starting to boil out of its sides, spikes pulsing on its shoulders and arms. After one more breath in, I burst forward, fiery energy shimmering all around me.

I tore through the demon’s body, right out the other end, its blood misting the air. The demon fell, purple plumes of fire all around its body as I floated back to the ground.

I wanted to go inside, I wanted to find Bobby, to go after Evan, but I knew that escape was more important right now.

My eyes fell to the ground as I started searching for Roger’s body.

Lhandon yelled for me, as more elite guards and other soldiers prepared to brave the flames and attack us.

Sheathing my weapon, I placed my hand over my eyes and cast the Rune of Distortion, projecting a cone of confusion before me that had people screaming almost instantly as chaos descended upon them.

“Nick!” Lhandon shouted, Altan echoing his call. “Nick!”

“I’m coming!” I roared back to them.

I scanned the ground for Roger’s body, eventually finding it a few feet away. He was face down, and once I reached him, I dropped down and plucked a few of his yellow tail feathers.

“I’ll find you,” I whispered to the tail feathers as I pocketed them. “You have my word.”

The flames still raging, I took the jar from my pocket and called Tashi back to me. The fire spirit did one last sweep of the area as he returned to me.

It was now or never, and I chose to take the advice of my guardian angel, of Altan and Lhandon, who continued to motion for me to join them, to escape.

Soon, there would be a time for revenge, there would be time to ask questions and to seek answers.

But for now, we just needed to get out of here alive.

I reached Altan and Lhandon. We took off toward the mountains, to the secret passageway once used by treasure hunters.

The inferno raged behind us, lighting our way forward.

The end.

Back of the Book Content

Dear reader,

I would ask you please review this book before you read all of this, just to get the review out of the way.

Writing books feeds my family, and unfortunately, today’s modern writers constantly struggle with exposure, and without tens of thousands of dollars to throw at advertising, the only way to get exposure is through reviews.

I would provide you with a longish description on algorithms and how they help a book’s visibility on the Amazon store, but I know you don’t care about all that, and it is a rather long-winded discussion. So I will spare you.

All I ask that you take a moment to write an honest review, knowing that I’m hard at work on the second installment of this series.

I’ll wait…

Great, now you have reviewed the book. Let’s talk about some of the concepts and ideas that I’ve explored in this novel.

Nothing new under the sun

One thing you should know about me, which would maybe help frame how I conceptualized this novel, is that I lived in Asia for five years. While in Asia I studied the Tibetan language, I lived in India and Nepal, Mongolia, and then studied Katakana and Hiragana before living in Japan.

The script I’m using this book is a combination of Tibetan and Katakana. If you are familiar with either, you will see how I developed some of the characters. The pronunciation would fall more on the Tibetan side, without the tonality that is exhibited in the Himalayan Kingdom. The Tibetan character “Nga” perfectly summarizes how hard pronunciation is.

It’s not “gnaw,” nor is it “nah-gah,” but almost a sound made in one’s throat, created by curling one’s lip a bit and pronouncing the character as if you were trying to speak while the dentist was fixing a cavity.

It’s a hard language.

For those that have played around with, or understand some Mongolian, you will see that I also utilized Mongolian names for this book. The other names come from Tibetan and Bhutanese, the latter of which I will touch in a moment.

While Tibetan Buddhism spread to Mongolia, they pronounce Tibetan words differently, so Tibetan names like “Tenzin,” also the name of his Holiness the Dalai Lama, would be pronounced “Danzen,” in Mongolia. I find some of this quite fascinating, but it may not fascinate someone who hadn’t lived in the region, or been touched by the people.

So let’s get on to being touched.

Touched

In 2010, I lived in Kathmandu, Nepal. I did a homestay with a Tibetan man and his five-year-old son, both of whom were waiting to come to America to join the child’s mother. The mother had been beaten by Nepali police during a Free Tibet rally, and she had been allowed to migrate to America as a refugee, the father and son not yet receiving the same status.

When I first met them, they had already waited for over a year to join her in America, which was a tragedy in my opinion, considering the mother and her son were separated at such a young age. I recall the father riding around Kathmandu on a motorcycle, his cell phone in his lap, hoping the embassy would call.

Eventually, they did migrate, but that is his story for another day, perhaps the next back of the book piece I write for the Way of the Immortals series.

Anyway, to make me feel more at home, they invited a cousin to live with them, who just so happened to be a Tibetan monk.

There were times that I would find myself watching WWE with the monk on my left, who only knew one English phrase, “My God!” (which he would use whenever a wrestler slammed into another wrestler), the father, and the five-year-old boy.

The monk didn’t behave how I assumed a monk would behave.

He wasn’t always meditating, nor did he go around blasting things, nor was he really all that active. Sometimes he would sit on the balcony making small tea candles that Tibetans use for rituals; other times he would just go on a long walk, his hands clasped behind his back, his saffron robes dancing above the dirt.

I based Lhandon on an exaggerated version of this monk. Remember, we couldn’t speak to each other. I barely understood how to say hello in Tibetan, and the only English he knew was the phrase, “My God!” But I could sense that he was a good man, one that would do anything for a stranger regardless of if he knew the language or not.

Sometimes we would hang out in silence, especially when the electricity went out and we wouldn’t have power for the night. That was another thing that made living in Nepal hard. Electricity only came on twelve hours a day. Six hours on, six hours off, six hours on, and six hours off.

This was a time before they had backlit Kindles, so I would actually read my Kindle in the candlelight, if you can imagine that.

Fast forward to rewind

I suppose now would be a great time to give a briefing on Western understanding of Tibetan Buddhism. The West has known about Tibet since the 1800s. There may have been earlier mentions through traders, and certainly someone trading in China would have heard of the region, especially those who were trading back when China was run by Mongolians, (who practiced the Tibetan style of Buddhism).

But for our purposes, for the purposes of understanding Tibet and the West, let’s go with the 1800s. During the 1800s, British explorers went to some of the furthest reaches of the continent, exploring places that other Westerners had never visited before.

One of the places they would start their journey would be in India, and of course north of India was Nepal, followed by Tibet.

Now, what I’m about to say may be one of the odder parts of publishing this series, and will make since why after I’ve explained.

I actually wrote my senior thesis for my degree in history on Western fantasizing of Tibet, only to publish a progression fantasy novel a decade later…

To gather the data for my research paper, I poured through old British journals which were published from around 1850 to 1900 detailing explorations of Tibet.

This kickstarted some of my fascination with the mysticism in the region as a whole, especially when some of the British explorers couldn’t describe things that they had seen. I’ve forgotten some of these things now, but a few of them still stand out to me in my mind.

These journals were written in a very curt and posh manner, and these British explorers were true naturalists, rejecting religion and inspired by Darwinism, which only made it stranger when they encountered something truly magical.

I can’t describe how fascinating it was to look at a dense, seventy-page journal, detailing the topography of Tibet and some of the strange practices of the people and then come across a very small section that depicted a magical scene.

One that comes to mind is an explorer who met a highly trained Tibetan monk. The monk proved to the explorer his mastery of reality by disappearing before his very eyes. They were standing in a field, nothing to hide behind, and the man simply stepped out of reality, and then stepped back into reality.

Now, is this possible? Is this actually true?

I wasn’t there, so I can’t say if it is or isn’t.

But I can say is that this isn’t the main feature of any of these journals, nor is it a selling point, as it would be if these things happen now and were published online (Man Steps Out of Reality – You Have to SEE this Video to Believe It!).

And every single time, British explorers simply rejected what they saw. They didn’t believe it to be possible, that something magical had happened, and so they rejected.

I infused some of this into Way of the Immortals when it comes to how Nick reacted to some of the things that he experienced. It has also made its presence known in the set-up of the Kingdom of Lhasa.

Other things that I picked from these journals include deep meditation chambers.

One of the explorers detailed coming across a monastery with underground bunkers in front of it, men meditating inside, the men like animals because they had been kept inside for long periods of time without sunlight and prevented from any outside interaction. 

I actually received a lecture from a German man who had become a Tibetan Buddhist, and who had gone through the long and drawn out process of doing a three year, three month, three week, three day meditation on the form of a deity.

He was planning to do another one.

There are still these Buddhist yogis as part of the Ngakpa Lineage who still do these types of meditations. Something that distinguishes them from the other monks is that they wear white robes, instead of the traditional colors.

If you ever see one, bask in the presence because these are unique folks.

It’s hard to imagine, but as you sit here reading this on your electronic device, or perhaps in an actual book, there are hermits that are funded by the Bhutanese government to meditate in the mountains. These hermits get government stipends to continue their meditation, and they only come down from the mountains when they have run out of food and supplies.

I’m saying this to remind you that these things are still out there, that they still exist, that I encountered them, and that I encountered them less than a decade ago (writing this in 2019).

So there still is magic and mystery out there.

Bhutan is one of the places where some of these magical occurrences still exist, a country I had the pleasure to visit the spring of 2010.

I won’t go too deeply into some of the stranger things that I saw there, but I will talk about Bhutan’s national icon, Drukpa Kunley.

Drukpa was a Tibetan monk who came to Bhutan in the 1500s. According to lore, he shot an arrow from Tibet that landed in Bhutan, announcing his arrival.

If you don’t know where Bhutan is, that’s okay.

I didn’t know where was either.

Imagine China, then imagine Tibet, which is now called the Tibetan Autonomous Region (T.A.R.) to the left. Now imagine India below that, and imagine if there was a hotdog between India and China. That hotdog would be Nepal, because it is sort of shaped like a hotdog. After a small swath of land, you would find a very tiny country called Bhutan.

So it’s between India and China and separated from a swath of land by the hotdog-shaped Nepal. Bhutan is definitely worth a look up, especially if you want to learn more about their Gross National Happiness.

But I digress (as writers often do.)

This Tibetan monk named Drukpa came to Bhutan with his Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom.

Ah-ha! So that’s where I got the idea of the fire sword from.

Except his Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom was actually the name of the monk’s penis. I’m being serious here. The monk would go around slaying demons with his penis. If you go to Bhutan, you will find giant penises painted on walls to stop demons. If you really want a deep dive, you can read about this famous monk called The Divine Madman.

Penises are painted next to doorways in Bhutan, they will be carved out of a tree branch, so it’s literally sticking out in someone’s path, and they also sell a bunch of penis souvenirs. The reason for this is to make demons feel uncomfortable and squeamish. Apparently, demons don’t like throbbing cocks.

Since I didn’t think you would believe me, here’s a picture of me sitting in front of one of them painted next to the door of someone’s home.

There’s a reason I’m telling you all this.

For one, I actually visited Drukpa’s monastery, where I was blessed by a wooden phallus and a bow and arrow. It was supposed to make me fertile, but I don’t have any children and don’t plan to have any, so it failed in that regard. I don’t have a picture of that, because we weren’t allowed to take pictures inside the monasteries, which makes sense considering they are holy places.

I’m also telling you this because the initial conception of this book was to have Nick move more toward this path, through a way of practicing Buddhism known as Divine Madness. In fact, my initial conception for a title for this book was the Divine Madman.

And speaking of Drukpa, the poem that Lhandon uses to trick the monk actually written by the famed Bhutanese saint, and I’ve included it at the end of this book for your reading pleasure.

Genre-adjacent

I have always been the type of person that went a little bit against the grain, which if you’ve read any of my other fiction, you know this to be true.

I write books that are very genre-adjacent.

If you have read The Feedback Loop, my notable GameLit contribution first written in 2015, you would know that it defied convention, and while it was never a mega-seller, it has continued to enthrall readers. The same goes for my harem serious, Cherry Blossom Girls, which also defies convention in a way by having a lead character that is not overpowered, not alpha, and also sort of a nerdy loser.

So, that is sort of my bag.

While I don’t condone going around slaying demons with one’s penis, or vagina, if that’s what you have, I do like the punk rock ethos of it. There is a good amount of this in Way of the Immortals by not using traditional cultivation novel tropes, nor using Chinese literature, for that matter. Nick himself also goes against what Lhasan’s practice and believe, asking questions that haven’t really been asked before, viewing Lhasa through the eyes of an outsider.

And since you asked…

Regarding the karma system that Lhandon will develop, as well as the ideas of an overworld and an underworld, I have borrowed and will continue to borrow from Alexandra David-Neel’s writings, most notably Magic and Mystery in Tibet, and Immortality and Reincarnation: Wisdom from the Forbidden Journey.

I won’t give too many hints of where the story is going to go, (because who wants a spoiler?), but I will say that I am heavily invested on expanding the concept of reincarnation in this book, and what that entails for Nick and the people he encounters.

Since starting this book, I wanted a system that meshes well with what cultivation and wuxia readers are familiar with in terms of progression and development, but something that brings a new angle to the table.

I will continue to work with this for the second book, which will reveal the system that Lhandon devises. I have toyed with the idea of a sliding system now, or something that is more GameLit oriented. I also like using script characters, as you can tell this book, so I may go in that direction.

We will see.

But in the meantime, I will continue to cultivate my own literary journey by putting out books such as this, and I will try to get to the sequel as soon as possible. If you have enjoyed this book, your review will go a long way and motivating me to quickly get the second one out, and also to tell other readers at this is a journey worth taking.

So thank you for that. A heartfelt thanks goes out to Ian Mitchell and his wife, Laeaurra Flamehawk for reading an early version of this book and critiquing it in a way that opened my eyes to some of the possibilities of the story. Luke Chmilenko, author extraordinaire, also gets a nod for commenting along the way as I developed the story, cover, concept and title.

I am planning to donate some of the proceeds from the sale of this book to Tibet House, which helps Tibetan who have escaped from China to India, and also second and third generation Tibetans born in India. It is important to me to contribute back to that community, considering I have borrowed so much from their writings, concepts, and texts written by, or about, them.

I would like to get even deeper into some of these things as Nick and Lhandon search for not one, but two reincarnations. So get ready for the next installment, and please let other readers know how you’ve felt about this one.

Poetry time

So I’ve edited this down a bit because it gets pretty weird (even weirder than what you’re about to read). But if you’d like to know where I lifted the poem Lhandon used to trap the ice spirit, you will find it in the aforementioned book called The Divine Madman, and you can preview it below.

This is the discourse on Mundane Pleasure:

The virgin finds pleasure in her rising desire,

The young tiger finds pleasure in his consummation,

The old man finds pleasure in his fertile memory:

That is the teaching of the Three Pleasures.

The bed is the workshop of sex,

And should be wide and comfortable;

The knee is the messenger of sex

And should be sent up in advance;

The arm is the handle of sex

And it should clasp her tightly;

The vagina is glutton for sex,

And should be sated again and again:

That is the teaching upon Necessity.

Hunger is the mark of an empty stomach,

A large penis is the mark of an idiot,

Passionate lust is the mark of a woman:

That is the teaching of the Three Marks.

The impotent man has little imagination,

Bastards have little virtue,

The rich have little generosity:

That is the teaching of the Three Deficiencies.

A Lama’s joy is a gift,

A politicians’ joy is flattery,

A woman’s joy is her lover;

That is the teaching of the Three Joys.

Sinners hate the pious and devout,

The rich hate loose spendthrifts,

Wives hate their husband’s mistresses:

That is the teaching of the Three Hates.

For blessing worship the Lama,

For power worship the Deity,

For efficiency worship the Reality Protectors:

That is the teaching of the Three Roots.

The Discipline’s purpose is to calm and pacify,

The Vow to serve others is to free from self- will.

The Tantra’s purpose is to teach the unity of polarity:

That is the teaching of the Three Vehicles.

The starving beggar has no happiness,

The irreligious have no divinity,

The wanderer has no bonds or commitment:

That is the teaching of the Three Lacks.

He who is without honesty has a dry mouth,

He who is without spirituality makes no offering,

He who is without courage does not make a general:

This is the teaching of the Three Zeros.

The sign of a rich man is a tight fist,

The sign of an old man is a tight mind,

The sign of a nun is a tight vagina:

That is the teaching of the Three Constrictions.

The fast talker inserts himself into the center of a crowd,

Monastic wealth inserts itself into the monk’s stomachs,

Thick penises insert themselves into young girls:

That is the teaching of the Three Insertions.

The mind of Bodhisattva is smooth,

The talk of self-seekers is smoother,

But the thighs of a virgin are smoother than silk

That is the teaching of the Three Smooth Things.

Immoral monks have thin skirts,

Widows and spinsters have thin stomachs and clothes,

Fields without manure bear thin crops:

That is teaching of the Three Thin Things.

Although mind is clear, one needs a Lama;

Although a lamp burns brightly, it still needs oil;

Although Mind is self-evident, it needs recognition:

That is the teaching of the Three Needs.

Yours in Sanity,

Harmon Cooper 