Savage Divinity

For as long as she could remember, Song prized her early morning routine above all else. The handful of minutes before each day truly began were her own, where nothing was expected of her except to brush and braid her hair. It was a simple, familiar routine, one which soothed her nerves and helped her through some of the most difficult times of her life. By all rights, Song should have resisted any change to her routine, should have felt cheated of her alone time when it was taken away, but far from it.

Song loved it when Mama brushed her hair.

Humming softly beneath her breath, Mama’s movements were slow and unhurried, taking her time as though she had nothing more important to do besides style Song’s hair. Every tangle was gently unravelled, every knot softly teased, as if Song were a delicate treasure to be handled with the utmost care. It was a far cry from the speedy, rough attentions of the other slaves, happy to make Song look presentable for the Brigadier and send her in their place. Those days were now like a terrible dream, slowly fading from memory with each passing day. Stifling a yawn, Song blinked the sleep out of her eyes and ran her fingers through Sara’s lustrous, white fur, massaging the wildcat’s scalp laying in her lap. Mewling in protest, the grumpy, golden Aurie flopped onto his back and thrashed about, displeased by his unjust treatment in this unfamiliar locale.

Or annoyed by the lovely new shirt Song had him wear to bed.

“Tch. A fine hunter he is,” Mama said, interrupting her sombre tune. “Showing his belly to everyone who will look. A real paper tiger this one, spoiled rotten to the core.”

Gesturing for Aurie to come to her side, Song neither agreed nor disagreed with Mama, merely stating, “He’s upset because Rain didn’t return yesterday.” As an afterthought, she asked, “Has he resurfaced yet?” It would be fine if he hadn’t; Song loved having both Sara and Aurie to cuddle, the former beside her and the latter sprawled across her legs. Add in Mama’s warm embrace and last night was the happiest Song had ever been.

It was even better than when Rain used his Aura to show her what it was like to be loved.

“No, the boy is still at it. If you were ten years older, you would feel the Heavenly Energies tugging at the Chi inside your core as it rushes towards him. Been eighteen hours and the whole city knows it now. Hard to miss seeing him out there, exposed and vulnerable while the water churns around him.” Mama’s gentle movements slipped away and were replaced with a rougher, angrier touch as she braided Song’s hair, tugging a little too hard for comfort. “Honestly, he could have chosen a more defensible location to seek Insight, somewhere submerged in the shallows and out of sight from the docks. I swear the boy was born to make me miserable, I can feel the wrinkles forming as we speak.”

Though this line of conversation made Song fear for her scalp, her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “How long do Awakenings usually last?”

“It varies depending on the person, but they have been known to last for more than a day, and as much as three.”

“Will he be much stronger when it is finished?”

“Look at you, so full of questions today.” Pausing her work to study Song’s face, Mama appeared strangely worried, but her mood passed quickly and she went back to braiding. “It takes time to parse through the mysteries of Awakening and even longer to put what one learns into practice, so normally, I would answer no, but the boy is hardly normal. This is the boy’s second time going through the process, which is unheard of, so we shall have to wait and see.” Clicking her tongue, Mama shook her head. “No more questions sweet daughter, I should not be telling you any of this. Better for you to discover the Mother’s secrets all on your own without my nattering to confuse you.”

But then how was Song supposed to know if she was right? The Bekhai training method was simplistic in theory, but infinitely complex in practice. While it allowed one to examine the secrets of Heaven with no preconceived notions, it also left one alone and without guidance from their predecessors. Easier to learn from Teacher Du, whose straightforward lectures broke complicated concepts down into smaller, easily understood components.

Song would never dare mention this out loud though, as Mama had been quite vocal about her contempt for Teacher Du and his methods.

“There we go, all done.” Motioning for Song to turn one way, then the other, Mama inspected her handiwork with a smile. “Ah my sweet daughter, lovely as a warm summer day.”

Noticing the missing weight of her braid, Song reached up and found it packaged into a neat little bun, much more convenient than coiling it around her neck when she needed it out of the way. “Thank you Mama.”

“You like it? Good, I will teach you how it is done another time,” Mama said, wrapping her arms around Song. “Your sister never liked sitting still while I braided her hair, so let Mama enjoy this a few days more.”

“Yes Mama.” Happy to oblige, Song leaned back and basked in the attention. Being back in Central wasn’t as terrifying as she thought it’d be, especially with Mama at her side. This was their seventh day in Nan Ping and Song had yet to be lent, traded, gifted, sold, stolen, or even propositioned. Dressed in her fine Bekhai leathers, the merchants and shopkeepers often mistook Song for a foreigner and treated her like a valued customer instead of an insignificant slave, calling her things like little lady or beautiful patron instead of the less flattering monikers she was accustomed to. She ate good food, drank delicious tea, spent her coin as she pleased, and passed her days in a peaceful, pleasant existence.

Aside from all of Rain’s bothersome antics, of course.

Today, Song went about her day as usual, except with Mama to keep her company. Their first stop was at Lady Lin’s yurt to free Jimjam, Banjo, and Baloo from the sweet girl’s smothering embrace. Then Song fed and brushed all the pets while watching the rabbits’ silly antics, hopping and kicking inside their new enclosure. Running behind schedule, she hurried over to the training grounds for her daily spar with Mister Rustram, one of her few responsibilities. Stiff-backed and head held high, he greeted her with a courtly bow as she arrived, his narrow practice rapier in hand with the tip resting in the dirt like an ornate cane. They exchanged no words as she warmed up, and once Song was ready, she took her stance and waited as he did the same.

It was... agreeable working with Mister Rustram. With his impeccable manners, mild temper, and untarnished motivations, he never gave Song a reason for worry.

After a quarter hour of sparring, Song noted he’d fallen into old patterns and tightened his grip again, so she set out to punish him for it. Charging forward, she locked blades in a clash of metal and set him on the defensive. Disengaging with a hard push, she followed up with a forward kick and caught Mister Rustram in the gut. Whipping her saber about, she set it to rest lightly against his neck as he doubled over. Falling to his knees, he held his free hand up in surrender while gasping for breath, winded by the abrupt end to their match. “Yield,” he wheezed, signalling the end of this match. Taking a step back, Song waited while Mister Rustram propped himself up and muttered quietly to himself, a strange habit but one Song didn’t mind since she wasn’t expected to reply.

Another reason she didn’t mind sparring with him; freedom from the unfamiliar burden of social niceties.

Unfortunately, Mama didn’t share their appreciation of silence and interrupted with a question. “Daughter, how many times have you punished him for this same mistake?”

“Almost every day since we started sparring.” Mister Rustram was not a quick learner.

“Have you made clear what his error is?”

“No Mama.” Teacher Du believed hardship and experience were the best ways to learn, and while Song sought to emulate it, she worried she might get in trouble if she injured Mister Rustram too badly.

“I see.”

There was no disapproval or reproach in Mama’s tone, but she turned her gaze to Mister Rustram who immediately clasped his hands and bowed. “Please Miss Song, enlighten this one to the error of his ways,” he said, polite and mannerly as always.

Nervous about this change in routine, Song swallowed her anxiety and did as she was instructed. “Your weapon is slender and lightweight, crafted with speed and precision in mind. Thus, when meeting power with power, you will always be at a disadvantage.” Taking the slim practice weapon from him, Song held the hilt lightly between her fingers and with plenty of slack in her wrist, then demonstrated a series of darting and sweeping motions based on the Mantis Forms. “Held properly, your weapon has a wider range of motion compared to most others, which you must use to your advantage. When we clash, always match the bottom-third of your weapon against the top-third of your opponent’s, which gives you more leverage and control.”

Handing him her practice saber, she gestured for him to attack. Catching his swing with the hilt of her rapier, she guided the tip of his saber off to the side, forcing Mister Rustram off balance. She did this a few more times before switching it up, countering with a beat parry and a counter-thrust to his throat, stopping just short of striking. She’d been trying to teach him this for months now, intentionally over-committing with an aggressive charge and hoping he would catch on and properly parry, or better yet, counter the attack. He responded correctly once just a few days ago, but he learned nothing from his first-ever near-victory. Not to say he hadn’t improved in other ways, but Mister Rustram was sorely lacking the instincts, perceptions, and reactions of a warrior, things which only time, effort, and experience could make up for.

There was more to it, but Mama cut Song short and took over, rattling off a long list of flaws and instruction before concluding with, “My first daughter crafted you a weapon and my second instructs you on its use. I expect great things from you Mister Rustram, so continue to work hard. Daughter, a word?”

Leading Song away from the sparring grounds and towards the beach, Mama fell quiet with a pensive frown. Clutching her practice saber to her chest, Song followed along and wondered what she’d done wrong. Was it because she failed to instruct Mister Rustram properly? As Rain’s second, Mister Rustram held a highly visible position and his weakness would reflect poorly on the Bekhai. Was Mama going to punish her? Song deserved it, she’d been too half-hearted while training Rain’s subordinates, unsure where she stood in the hierarchy and too afraid to ask.

The silence lasted until they reached the shoreline, where Mama took a seat on an isolated patch of sand and Song followed suit. Pointing at the lone boat next to Ping Ping in the middle of the bay, Mama Sent, “I used to think you and the boy had much in common. Like you, he was once a slave, taken as a child by the Canston Trading Group. Shipped to the mines, he suffered terribly during his time there, and when Baatar found him, he was the only survivor out of Mother knows how many. Having known what it is like to be powerless, the boy’s fear drives him to seek strength. He believes that if he’s strong enough, he’ll never be put in the same position again, so he burns the candles at both ends and pushes his limits day after day. Now, he stands at the forefront of his peers, yet still he does not feel safe.”

Small wonder Rain hated the Canston Trading Group and bristleboars so much. As a child, her trainers often threatened to send her off to the brothels or mines if she didn’t measure up, telling her all manner of horror stories to keep her in line. As one trainer explained, although Song was treated harshly, she had her minor comforts like a soft bed, clean clothes, and nourishing food because she was an investment, a commodity, meant to serve at her master’s side as guard and companion. In comparison, those other, less fortunate slaves were disposable resources, to be wrung dry of everything they had and replaced once there was nothing left to give.

It was all done in the name of profits. Instead of keeping an existing workforce in good condition, it was cheaper to just buy new slaves, a cold calculation with no regard for the value of life.

“Do you know why I brought this up?” Mama asked, interrupting Song’s recollections.

Though Song sympathized with Rain’s plight, she wasn’t sure how to answer, but Mama seemed ready to wait until one was provided. This wasn’t the warm, gentle Mama speaking to her daughter Song, no, this was a Lieutenant General speaking to her soldier. Still uncertain, Song risked everything on a guess and asked, “Is it because you are upset this one has not Awakened?”

“Why would you think that?”

Trembling with apprehension, Song persevered on, believing she knew the cause of Mama’s disappointment. “This one overheard some of the others talking, saying how the Rising Dragon Elixir and runic rings helped both Rain and Lady Yan Awaken. This one also took the elixir and was given a ring, so...” Her voice trailed off and she left the rest unsaid, too scared to give voice to her thoughts, that Mama was disappointed with Song’s progress and was prepared to give up on her.

“Silly girl.” Draping an arm around Song’s shoulder, Mama squeezed a little too tightly, but Song didn’t mind. “Learning how to mimic a true force of nature is an extraordinary feat, but only meant for a chosen few. An Awakening is a Blessing of the Heavens, a gift bestowed, not a goal to be chased. I myself have not Awakened, so why would it matter if you have not? I am not upset with you girl, I might as well be upset you failed to catch a star or touch the moon. No, I told you about Rain’s past because I thought you two were alike, but I was wrong.” Holding Song close, they both stared out into the bay as Mama’s voice grew hoarse. “Rain can be reckless at times, but only when necessary. Against a weaker opponent, he is often overly cautious, hiding behind his shield and waiting until an opportunity presents itself. You, however, are reckless regardless who your opponent is. Earlier, when you charged Mister Rustram, my heart stopped with worry, for if he responded properly to your aggression, he could have skewered you on his sword, blunted or not. Then you tell me you have been doing this almost every day for an entire year? Something is wrong my girl.”

“This lowly one does not understand.” It was always better to admit ignorance than be punished for failure, a lesson Song learned early and often.

“Oh my sweet girl,” Mama said, shaking her head in sorrow. “All this time, I thought you were getting better and almost whole again, but now I see you are far from it. Look at you, one tiny lecture and you are shivering like a lamb caught in the tiger’s den. And what is all this ‘lowly one’ nonsense? If you ever call me Master, I fear my heart will shatter into a thousand pieces.”

Unsure what else to say, Song defaulted to, “Sorry Mama.”

Lifting Song’s chin, Mama looked her in the eyes, her tender gaze filled with warmth and sadness. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because this one – I,” Song corrected, flinching ever so slightly as she corrected herself, “have troubled Mama.”

“And how have you troubled me?”

Unable to come up with an answer, Song sat in restless silence, staring at the tip of her nose while searching for her braid to fidget with. After a long pause, Mama sighed and answered for her. “Because sweet daughter, you place no value on your life. I should have seen it earlier, back when Mila told me about your fight against the Demon in Sanshu. There was no way for you to know it would appear in front of you, but you risked it anyways. You are different from Rain. He’ll do anything to stay alive, while you walk the razor’s edge and risk your life because you care nothing for it. Tell me girl, do you seek death?”

“No Mama. That would be in defiance of The Oaths.”

“But if you died in defence of your master or during a training accident, then...?”

Still not sure what Mama was getting at, Song shrugged and answered, “Then I will have died serving my purpose.”

Deflating in place, Mama hugged Song a little tighter and sighed once more. Grateful their confusing conversation was finally at an end and nothing untoward had come of it, Song relaxed and snuggled up against Mama’s shoulder, enjoying the beautiful sights and soothing sounds of the bay. Bored of stalking the crabs, Aurie plopped down beside her in search of attention, joined soon after by Jimjam and Sara. Splashing in the water, the bears grunted and chortled as they wrestled about, showing signs of the powerful behemoths they would soon become yet still innocent and childlike in their demeanour. Tired from circling the bay, Roc and the laughing birds landed nearby, with sweet Kipi hopping over to show off the blue-grey sea stone clamped in her beak.

After a long stretch of silence, Mama sighed a third time, rested her head against Song’s, and asked, “My sweet daughter, answer me true: are you happy?”

Half asleep from resting on Mama’s shoulder, Song drowsily answered, “Yes Mama.”

“Good. Then from this moment on, you have a new purpose.” Alarmed, Song tried to sit up but Mama held her tight and continued. “Your purpose is to live a long and happy life. I want you to try new things, find something you love, and tell me all about it. Can you do that, daughter?”

Still uncertain what was happening, Song blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I love spending time with Mama.”

Bursting into laughter, Mama wiped her eyes and shook her head. “And I you, but that is not what I meant. I was speaking more about a hobby, a goal, or a path. For example, the Martial Path, which you have made great strides in but is it something you enjoy?”

It wasn’t a question she’d considered before, but Song answered without hesitation. “Yes Mama. The Martial Path is all I have ever known, but it speaks to me. I have always pursued strength, but now I pursue strength for myself. I want to be strong so I can stand with Mama, Papa, and sister without being a burden.”

“We would never consider you a burden.” Kissing Song on the temple, Mama added, “But if this is your decision, then prepare yourself. Though I am your mother and you are my daughter, I will hold nothing back as your Mentor. Now, your first task: sit here with your Mama and watch Rain’s Awakening. Sometimes, one can find Insight from watching an Awakening, but do not fret if nothing is gained. Like I said earlier...”

Stiffening in surprise, Song nodded and held her tongue, ears pressed flat against her skull as she considered her dilemma.

With this newest development, how was she supposed to tell Mama she wanted to learn from Teacher Du?

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

“Look who finally came up for air. ‘Bout time too, been damn near three days now.”

“Come now, pull him in, he must be exhausted. Rain my boy, don’t you worry, we’ll have you up soon enough.”

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. Such diligence, such drive, worthy of admiration.”

Gasping for breath, Baledagh struggled to keep his head above the swirling waters, weak and feeble as a day old kitten following his frantic race for the surface. After what felt like an eternity, a pair of hands dragged him onto the boat and he looked up to see Guan Suo, Taduk, and the monk standing over him with concern in their eyes. Disoriented and confused, he coughed up a lungful of water and asked, “What happened? Where am I?”

Brother? Are you there? Why aren’t you answering?

 Chapter Meme

- End of Volume 17 -