Savage Divinity

Knees weak and body quivering, Mila struggled to compose herself as she fled the floating wooden deathtrap in all haste. Fighting the urge to kiss the sand beneath her feet, she clutched Rain’s arm a little tighter, taking comfort in their shared terror, his blanched skin and wide-eyed expression betraying his inner thoughts. Forget having a calm, fearless husband, it was unnatural to remain unnerved after what they went through.

In contrast, Lin hopped over the side of the boat and skipped ahead, eager to explore the island with her guards close behind. How the five of them remained unperturbed by the turbulent cruise was nothing short of awe-inspiring, Lin’s mental fortitude and desire for adventure far outstripping Mila’s own. Even Gerel and Tursinai looked a little green from the experience, a minor wobble in their gait betraying unease. Tenjin appeared downright miserable, haggard and sickly as he leaned heavily against his wife for support. A broken neck was no small matter and if not for Lin’s guards stabilizing his injury and stealing him out from under Yo Ling’s nose, Tursinai might very well have joined Tanaraq to become a young widow.

With her racing heart under control, Mila finally thought to check on Song. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see the sweet girl in distress, Mila could hardly contain her excitement. It’s not that she wanted Song to be terrified, but the stony-faced girl rarely showed any emotion, not even cracking a smile after thrashing a Demon, so Mila treasured every one of Song’s unique expressions. She could see it now, Song with her ears pressed flat and head hanging low, shyly taking Mila’s hand in search of safety and reassurance...

In reality, Song disembarked with her customary nonchalance, scanning around for danger while carrying a terrified Aurie in her arms. The other animals scampered off the boat to explore their surroundings, quins, bears, and wildcats all curious about their unfamiliar surroundings, though some of the animals sought Rain’s comforting touch.

Right, their surroundings. Taking a deep breath, Mila studied the mythical Butcher Bay hideout and her first impression was... disappointing. For decades, soldiers and mercenaries searched for Yo Ling’s hidden fortress to no avail, so Mila imagined it to be something wondrous and awe-inspiring. An underground city, ramshackle ruins of a past era, even a standard fortress would have been acceptable, but so far, all she saw was a regular beach. Surrounded by mossy cliffs, it was large enough to hold hundreds of boats, a staging area and little else. A handful of ugly buildings sat hewn into the cliff-side, warehouses and shipyards according to Jester Wang, all empty and bare. At the back of the beach laid a path leading into the depths of the island where Lin bounced in place, playing the part of docile and obedient ‘wifey’ while waiting for the rest of their delegation to assemble. 

With nothing of interest to see, Mila flopped down to the sand, her nerves strained and muscles tense after multiple near brushes with death. Though she could accept dying in battle, hurtling through the rapids with no control over her fate was almost too much to handle. Joining her, Song sat down with Aurie in her lap, the poor wildcat still shivering with fright. Stroking his flank, Mila did her part to comfort him as Rain’s retinue and the Society Brats made their way onto the beach, fanning out into their separate groups and factions. Watching Rain’s ‘sub-bosses’ clumsily arrange their squadrons, Mila couldn’t help but sigh at their ineptitude. Dastan and Rustram aside, it was a terrible mess. The four former bandits were the worst, standing about without a care in the world and taking no efforts to organize their own people. Bandits weren’t known for their organization or discipline, but they seemed to take pride in their failings, firing glances of derision and disdain at the neatly organized Society soldiers standing at attention, while they themselves squatted and loitered about in jumbled clump.

Ravil and Bulat were a different mess altogether, their loud reprimands and imaginative curses echoing off the cliffs as they bullied their subordinates into line. One a murderous ruffian and the other a criminal mastermind, the pair made for unconventional leaders, but their unorthodox style was both taught and endorsed by Rain so Mila had no choice but to suffer in silence. At least Rain knew better than to berate his people in public as he took charge, but the two former street toughs took perverse delight in it, grinning with pride as the Society watched on.

Upon returning home, Mila intended to beg Mama to place a contingent of Sentinels under Rain’s command and teach him proper tactics. Though Mama and Baatar were happy to let Rain pick his own soldiers and test his wild strategies, as a Second Grade Warrant Officer, he was now too high-profile to be given free reign. Allowing a novice commander and his delinquent hoodlums to represent them would only bring the People shame. Though Rain lucked out with his former cripples who turned out to be an honourable and worthy group of warriors, there had to be a limit to his luck. Crippled former soldiers were a far cry from reluctant bandits, and though Rain had no choice but to keep Jorani, Mila believed it would be best if Rain dismissed the majority of the Mother’s Militia after bringing them far from Sanshu.

Or rather, she had a more... permanent solution in mind, but Rain was too kind to listen.

Instead, he spent the last two weeks doing absolutely nothing, running around headbutting his pets while discussing a myriad of bizarre and senseless ideas with Diyako and his group of madmen. Those damned birds were driving everyone crazy with their damnable squawking, but her betrothed was too stubborn to get rid of them. Lamenting his lack of skill, Rain had all but given up on the bow and Mila couldn’t blame him. It took a lifetime of training to raise a master archer and he already had more than enough to keep him occupied. His dream of designing a cheap, mass-manufactured crossbow to rival the People’s hunting bows was another thing altogether though. The double recurve bows were the product of generations of testing and experience which Rain couldn’t hope to match in his lifetime, much less surpass.

Stifling a sigh, Mila studied her betrothed, his lips pursed and eyebrows drawn in annoyance as he whipped his retinue into formation. Though she often complained about his inadequacies, his soft attitude, strange ideas, and wild fancies were all a part of why she loved him. When he lifted her into his arms with his infectious smile shining brighter than his amber eyes, her complaints and irritations all melted away into a soft, gooey mass of love and affection.

Well, almost all of them. She still couldn’t forgive him for the headbutt. If he wanted to show his affection, then why didn’t he just kiss her?

Such was the price she paid for falling in love with an idiot, a bruised nose and injured pride.

After determining no one was missing with a quick headcount, Rain marched off with BoShui and Lin at his sides while everyone else waited their turn. To save time and ensure everything was aboveboard, they divided the island into four quadrants to search through in pairs, one Society representative alongside one of their own. Huu teamed up with ZhiLan and Fung with Ryong, the most sensible grouping. Leaving the licentious Fung with the flirtatious ZhiLan was a recipe for disaster, while the Seven Star Sect successor would find himself shorter by a head if he didn’t stop leering at Huu’s wives. Finally, lacking a fourth warrant officer, Rain paired Zian with Mila, presumably to avoid friction between himself and the once-defeated Warrant Officer, though Mila was unhappy about babysitting this pompus, puffed-up princeling.

After the last of Fung and ZhiLan’s people faded into the mist, Zian moved to follow. “Come along then,” he said, nose tilted towards the sky. “We’ve much to do before the day is done.”

‘Come along then’, she inwardly mocked. By the Mother, if Mila didn’t know any better, she’d swear Zian had learned to infuse his Aura with arrogance. Undeserved at that, she’d seen him fight and while it was impressive, she was confident in her ability to deal with him after she condensed her Aura. His speed and style were pretty to look at but as Mama would say, he was too engrossed in looking elegant. All style and no substance, let him dance all he wants. His skills were nothing in comparison to her raw, unmitigated strength.

With his Honed Aura, Rain was indisputably the number one talent of their generation, but Mila refused to give up second place. If she could learn to defend against his Aura...

Daydreaming of defeating Rain and sweeping aside their peers, Mila led her people around the outskirts of the desolate South-west quadrant with Zian. While a treasure hunt might have been fun with Rain and Lin at her side, Song’s enthusiasm was non-existent and Zian’s company all but unbearable. The Sentinels and soldiers swept through the area while Tursinai marched nearby, Sending Mila coarse and obscene comments regarding the things she wanted to do to Zian, unable to converse with Tenjin since she left him back at the beach.

Grinding her teeth, Mila paid the lustful woman and arrogant pretty-boy no mind as she trudged through the island. Sparse and rocky with an utter lack of trees and shrubbery, there wasn’t much to search through, with the ground too hard to dig up and buildings nonexistent. Every now and then they came across a smattering of tents, containing plenty of bugs and filth but no treasures of any kind.

Mother above, if Mila suffered through that horrifying boat ride for nothing but lice and ticks...

Four hours into their search, the sun dipped over the horizon and plunged the world into darkness, the moon and starlight too dim to search by. Belly rumbling with hunger, Mila wanted to call it a day but Zian wanted to push on, hungry for treasure and unwilling to give up. Grumbling beneath her breath, she followed the greedy princeling for another half-hour before her temper boiled over. “Enough!” She snapped. “This is stupid, bumbling around by torchlight, who knows what we might’ve missed? Set camp, we’ll resume our search in the morning.” Zian didn’t respond but Mila couldn’t be bothered to care, ordering her people to dig in. If he dared try to leave, then she’d damn the consequences and give Tursinai permission to do as she pleased.

After all, they were alone and isolated on the island, a perfect place to slaughter the Society’s most promising youth without any witnesses...

After a cold, unsatisfying meal of jerky and hard-tack, Mila crawled into her tent and sighed. Climbing into her bedroll fully dressed, she lamented her unfortunate fate as the second wife. Her heartless betrothed brought her to this barren wasteland only to saunter off with her supposed friend and abandoning her with his greatest rival. Thoughtless and inconsiderate is what it was, stupid Rain and stupid Lin. With the drunk and dispirited BoShui as their partner, they probably stopped searching hours ago, settling down to enjoy a nice, hot meal cooked by Rain, some stew or noodles, maybe even rice and seared meat, snuggled together in front of the fire like a pair of fools in love. They even stole away the sweet bear cubs, leaving only Sarankho and Song for Mila to cuddle.

As if sensing her thoughts, Song laid down and stroked Mila’s hair. “There. There. Mila,” Song said, awkward and unused to comforting people, but the sentiment was there.

Giggling in delight, Mila wrapped her arms around Song in a hug. “Oh Song, you always treat me best. Who cares about Rain and Lin, so long as I have you by my side then everything will work out fine.” Indignation replacing melancholy, she continued, “Hmph. That Rain, so greedy for treasure he’s willing to send me away like this. If he loves treasure so much, then I’ll spend it as fast as he earns it. He wastes money on extravagant jewellery for me and Lin instead of saving up for a betrothal gift, but to thank you for saving my life, all he could muster up were a few measly emeralds on a jade comb? The miser, I’ll buy you a whole set of emerald jewellery in Shen Huo and use his coin to pay for it. Tiara, earrings, bangles, necklace, the whole works. Just you wait. What else do you want?”

Shaking her head, Song smiled sleepily, looking more radiant than usual. “There's no need for reward. So long as I can remain by your side, then I am happy.”

Squeezing Song a little tighter, Mila engraved this scene into memory. No matter what riches Mila might unearth in the next few days, she couldn’t imagine finding a treasure better than this one; the sight of a contented Song blinking sleepily as she fought to stay awake, nestled in Mila's shoulder.

Maybe this trip was worth it after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though his first day of treasure hunting passed without success, Zian was eager to begin anew. Waking with the rising sun, he ate breakfast and packed his tent, hurrying as much as possible. Crazy though she might have been, he owed the Shrike much for teaching him how to set camp. It seemed like such an unimportant thing, but putting up and taking down his tent gave him a sense of self-satisfaction he didn’t know he lacked.

Finished with his task, he glanced at the Bekhai camp, silent and still despite the morning light. How disappointing, he’d had such high expectations for Sumila, daughter of Akanai. When he thought of how Baatar said Rain wasn’t the most talented youth in their village, Zian thought he spoke of Sumila, but it seems she was little more than a wastrel like so many other heirs of greatness. Seeing the slave girl’s prowess made him believe Sumila would be even stronger, but after yesterday’s shameful display, he realized the Bekhai weren’t all peerless warriors from birth. Rain and the slave were anomalies, talented, hardworking geniuses, but the Bekhai had their fair share of slackers.

While the quality of Sumila’s soldiers were a step above Rain’s, their leader was anything but impressive. A sullen, moody teenager, she spent all of yesterday’s search pouting and moping, as if searching the island was beneath her station. He’d seen more than a few prodigal sons and daughters, but never had he seen child so spoiled she didn't even put Butcher Bay’s treasure in her eyes. This was a story to tell their children and grandchildren, eventually to be immortalized in the annals of history, yet Sumila treated this whole excursion like a chore, clearly unhappy to be here.

Shaking his head, Zian had a moment of pity for Rain. Though she was a lovely enough girl in a non-traditional manner, with a strong jawline and endearing freckles, having a lazy, unmotivated wife like Sumila meant Rain was destined for hardship and adversity. He believed behind every great man in history stood a strong woman, whether it be a mother, sister, or wife. Then again, he also believed many possibly great men met their downfalls at the hands of a woman, and he took the lesson to heart. While he saw nothing wrong with indulging in the pleasures of the flesh, he took care not to fall into their woven webs. As a talented warrior and the only heir to Clan and City, he had his fair share of women looking to sink their claws into him.

With all his soldiers ready and waiting, Zian refused to wait any longer. Unwilling to sneak away and break faith, he stood outside Sumila’s tent and cleared his throat, making his presence known.

Nothing. No response at all, not even a stirring within the tent. Trying again, he coughed loudly and waited, craning his neck to listen for signs of life.

...

Still nothing.

“Ahem,” he coughed, anger rising. “Lady Sumila? Good morning. The sun has risen and time is wasting.”

A tittering laugh caught him by surprise as he turned to face a lovely, older woman sitting a few meters from Sumila’s tent. “You’ll have to work a little harder if you want little Mila. Loves her sleep, she does.” Tursinai, the newly appointed Senior Captain of the Bekhai. How did he not see her there? Her low rank was by no means an indication of her skill. As someone who defeated the traitor guard captain Mao Jianghong and survived a clash with Yo Ling, she’d earned his respect and vigilance. Thankfully, her chain and sickle was unsuited to single combat and her equally skilled husband was back at the beach, still recovering from his injuries. Should worst come to worst, he was confident Jukai could handle the beautiful warrior with ease, giving his retinue the advantage.

Clasping his hands, he nodded in respect. “Senior Captain Tursinai, your help would be appreciated. If you could wake Lady Sumila, we can be on our way in a matter of minutes.”

“Absolutely not.” Smirking in an unladylike manner, Tursinai shook her head. “You’re pretty, but not pretty enough for me to poke my nose into that beehive. Not even Rain would be so brave as to wake her at dawn. If you want to try, then be my guest.”

Frowning in annoyance, Zian weighed his options. It was almost five in the morning and they’d agreed to only spend two days searching the island, not nearly enough time. Well, if the Bekhai refused to conduct themselves civilly, then he would act accordingly. Gesturing for his retinue to approach, he said, “The Lady Sumila is having troubles waking this morning. Shall we aid her with a rousing battle cry?”

Understanding his intention, his fifty-odd soldiers smiled and raised their voices in a challenging shout, alternating between stamping one foot and smacking their breastplates. Following Jukai’s lead, their shouting rose in both intensity and volume, their stamping and smacking devolving into a thunderous, clanging clamour as they sought to rouse the lazy Sumila from her bedroll.

This went on for almost half a minute when a deafening shout emanated from the tent. “QUUUIIEEETTTTTTTTT!!!” Came the echoing, guttural roar, silencing Zian’s retinue in an instant. Stomping out of her tent, with her clothes in disarray and hair a mess, Lady Sumila glared murderously at the congregated soldiers, Zian’s heart freezing in the face of her unmitigated blood lust. The pouty, freckled, button-nosed maiden was nowhere to be found, replaced by a fearsome tigress hungry for retribution. Moving faster than he could react, she grabbed him by the throat with one hand and hefted him overhead like a sack of flour, his feet dangling off the ground despite their massive height difference. Grabbing her steely forearm, he fought to free himself from her vice-like grip with no success, his punches and kicks unnoticed as her stubby fingers denied air to his lungs and blood to his brain. “What business do you have at this unholy hour?” She asked with a snarl, her bloodshot eyes wild and violent. “Is it too much to ask for a full night’s rest? Why do you even need treasure so badly? If you’re not the richest person on this island, then I’ll eat my boots raw! ANSWER ME!!”

Zian’s Aura crashed uselessly against Tursinai’s as the warrior woman hid her delight. “Silly girl, he can’t answer with your hand clamped around his neck. Why don’t you put the young magistrate down before the old man has an aneurysm?”

Dropped without warning, Zian fell to his hands and knees, light-headed and gasping for breath. As the world spun around him, he heard Sumila mutter, “I’m going back to sleep. Wake me at a decent hour and we’ll start the search.”

Vision fading in and out of darkness, Zian felt a strange sensation welling up from within. If Rain or Fung or anyone else had treated him like this, then he’d stop at nothing to kill the bastard and avenge his honour. However, when his thoughts turned to Lady Sumila, there was no hatred or anger. Quite the opposite in fact, he wondered how he could have ever been so blind as to not see her true beauty. Never before had he witnessed anything more beautiful than her savage ferocity, a robust, forceful warrior, glorious and unstoppable in her fury. Beside her, all other women paled in comparison, flimsy, fragile things of no value aside from their looks.

She was everything he wanted in a wife, capable and powerful in her own right while also demure and ladylike when necessary. This was a woman to stand beside, striding hand in hand into the annals of history, together.

If ever there were a man more blessed with luck than Falling Rain, Zian couldn’t afford to meet him, for his ego would shatter, never to be reformed.

What favoured Son of the Situ Clan? His luck was nothing compared to a ‘nameless’ village savage.

Chapter Meme