[2006/11] Remembering the Past

[Ziv]

[turbine]

http://ac.turbine.com/?page_id=498

Hasin Lin cut his way through the thick underbrush at the edge of the forest clearing. In the middle of the clearing sat a simple wooden cottage and a small stone shrine. The sweet smell of burning incense wafted in his direction from the shrine, and he saw a thin curl of smoke drifting up from the chimney of the cottage.

He stopped in front of the shrine, bowed reverently before it, and lit another stick of incense. Then he got up and stood in front of the cottage's door, which was a simple curtain made from the cured hides of Reedsharks. With slow and deliberate movements, he took off his boots, his pack, and his weapons and set them all neatly by the side of the door. Then he stood at attention in front of the doorway. Only after a soft voice called "Enter" did he step over the threshold of the cottage.

An old Sho woman sat at a low table in the center of the cottage. The only furnishings in the room were a bedroll, a bookcase filled with a densely packed mass of books and scrolls, and a stone fireplace that doubled as a cooking pit. An ancient, exquisitely maintained bonsai tree sat on the table in front of the woman, along with a tea kettle and a pair of bowls.

The woman smiled at Lin as he entered. He bowed deeply before her, which she acknowledged with a graceful tilt of her head. She motioned for him to sit at the table. He sat cross-legged in front of her, and she proceeded to pour them each a bowl of hot tea. Lin sipped nervously at the tea, waiting for her to speak. She sipped her tea, smiling serenely at him, seemingly content to sit in silence.

Finally, the old woman spoke. "I'm grateful you accepted my invitation to come here and share tea with me, Tracker Lin. May I call you Lin?"

Lin nodded quickly. "I am honored to be here, Mistress."

"I apologize if my messenger was vague or secretive with the invitation. I do not like to involve myself in the politics of the realm, and I prefer discretion to... brash displays. I think it would surprise most people to learn that I even have apprentices." She poured him some more tea.

"I completely understand, Mistress," he responded. "I would not ask you to explain your actions to me. I came because you asked for me."

The old woman laughed. "Keep talking like that, Tracker Lin, and I may give in to my vanity. No, I just don't wish to cultivate a reputation for inscrutability. I find such pretenses to be so tiresome. Now, I will be direct here. I need you to track someone down for me. I have been told that you have some talent in this."

Lin nodded modestly. "I have had some success serving the Queen's forces as a tracker and a scout. I serve in the best way I know how. Who is it that you seek, Mistress?"

She looked him directly in the eyes. "I seek Asheron."

Lin nearly dropped his bowl. "Asheron? Well... I thought..."

The old woman laughed. "I apologize, Tracker Lin. I am being inscrutable again. It is Asheron I seek, but it is not Asheron whom I would ask you to track. There is a new presence in the world, a dangerous and secretive presence..."

Lin nodded. "Is this about the Tanada? I've already spent some time investigating them - "

The woman grimaced. "No, but I have been made aware of them as well. I have asked others to investigate the appearance in Dereth of those poor fallen souls. Their case is tragic, and they could be a true danger, but as far as I know, they are not involved with the... prolonged absence of Asheron." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and Lin could see that she'd sunk into some kind of meditative state.

He sipped his tea in deferential silence and waited for her to continue. After a moment, she opened her eyes again, and he could see a troubling note of fear and apprehension in her wide-eyed gaze.

"A menace both old and new has come to Dereth. Our people have had the singular luck to settle a land that has been precious to old and powerful beings... Beings that can see and touch the different layers of the worlds, who creep across the island's lines of power like a spider over its own web... They are strong, in their way, but they are also dangerously out of balance and prisoners of their own terrible history... They have warred over this land in ages past, and would reclaim it now. They seek to do away with the land's most potent guardian."

Her eyes were glazing over, and Lin was no longer sure that she was still aware he was there. He cleared his throat softly, and she seemed to snap out of her reverie and refocus on him.

"I apologize, Tracker Lin. There is so much noise in the world these days. I still hear echoes of the Hopeslayer, and the traumas of past years still resonate... The bestial howls of Grael are particularly jarring. But yes, let us speak of the being I would have you track. He is an ancient soul, and his talents are much the same as yours, though he hunts his prey not in the forest or the jungle, but through the pathways of spirit..." She paused to sip her tea.

"He is a hunter and a tracker. It was his job to track his prey, study the habits of his prey. To prepare a trap on behalf of his masters. I would have you study him and learn his habits. To track the tracker, and thereby lead us, through him, to the secret masters who direct his efforts."

Lin's breath stopped short. "Mistress, I am honored that you would think me worthy for this task, but if this being is as powerful as you say, I am not a true warrior, nor a mage to do battle with sorcerous creatures..."

The old woman nodded and poured them both some more tea. "I know, Tracker Lin. I would not ask you to fight this creature, or to enter his lair. To fight him will be the part of others..."

[Ziv]

[turbine]

http://ac.turbine.com/?page_id=500

Ardry sat cross-legged on the hard stone floor, backlit by the purple glow of the portal behind him. His leather armor was thoroughly riddled with cuts and puncture wounds and sodden with his own blood. He scrawled a hurried note in his journal.

Passed through second portal and second school. Acolytes training with bows. Got good chance to practice the "Technique of Wind and Smoke" that Adso passed on to me. Acolytes still managed to perforate me. Must ask him for further practice in those techniques, if he will indulge me. Otherwise I may return to this school and engage in another mutual practice session with some killers in training.

He closed the journal and slid it back into the large pouch at his side. His wounded hand left another sticky patch of half-dried blood on the journal cover. He'd at least been prudent enough to purchase a journal bound in dark, rich leather, so that the dozens of blood stains on the cover merely served as interesting texture rather than the grisly monuments of his regular punishment at the hands of creatures who objected to his scouting missions.

Ardry stood up slowly, wincing at the pain in his joints and muscles. He'd done his best to patch up the multiple wounds he had absorbed from the sword-wielding acolytes he'd first encountered, but the rain of arrows he'd endured in the second school had left deeper, more painful wounds that still throbbed long after the health potions and healing kits had done their work. A patch of blood-drenched leather fell from his cuirass, and he stared at it, numb.

"Next time I'll just ask Uncle Aliester if there are any more masks he'd like me to pick up," he muttered. "Could have gone on more mask-collection duty, but no, I had to try and curry favor with Jina, just because I thought that would get me a meeting with her. Even chasing snakes and ghosts in swampy holes is better than being an archery target..."

His gaze wandered around the room, and he saw again the shrine and the bloodied medallion he'd left lying on top of it. Somehow that sight brought him back to himself. Realizing how foolish he had been to speak out loud in this complex, he paused to focus himself. He used some of the new breathing techniques he'd been taught, pushed the pain out of his mind, and steeled himself to walk through the next portal.

When the familiar lurching of portal travel ended, he found himself in a situation he'd run into twice before: he was tense and silent in an empty room while acolytes trained in the next room. He listened to the shouting and battle cries. He looked around again to make sure he was alone, then quickly opened his journal.

Sitting by training room in third school. This one, ominously, called "School of Breath". Cannot understand what they are shouting. Not sure if it is sound distortion or if they are speaking a language I can't understand. Doesn't sound at all like the commands that Masters of Storms and Wind were shouting at their acolytes. Will have to expose myself to risk if I want to get better perspective.

Again he packed away the journal and dropped to a stealthy crouch. He slowly crept around the corner and tried to minimize his profile, to blend against the stone wall. The rooms in this complex were not well lit, and the dancing shadows that were cast by the acolytes in the training room helped greatly in his effort to remain inconspicuous. As he crept closer, he at least became sure that the acolytes were not speaking any language that he recognized. He also saw that they were not training with swords or bows. No, these Acolytes of Breath were learning combat techniques that Ardry found much more menacing. He began to back up from his half-hidden position to retreat to the safety of the other room, when he heard a faint noise behind him. He sighed softly to himself. He knew what that sound was.

The acolytes were not as accomplished in the arts of stealth, yet, as some of their more completely trained brethren that Ardry had encountered. He'd heard the approach of the patrolling acolyte behind him, a second before the acolyte noticed him. In another situation, with the techniques he'd learned recently, he might have been able to parlay that kind of advantage into a quick and unnoticed kill. Not so here, not when he was stuck between one acolyte on patrol and a room full of acolytes training to be better killers.

A brisk, clipped word from the patrolling acolyte caught the attention of the ones in the training room. As one, their dark eyes, not yet covered by the black mask worn by their masters, went to their brother in the corridor, and then to the sneaking spy that their brother had caught. As one, eight acolytes shifted to fighting stance, and the air in the subterranean room hissed as they exhaled at once.

Ardry groaned out loud. "I should have stayed in Ayan and accepted Ulgrim's challenge. That's what I should have done."

[Ziv]

[turbine]

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