by E. M. Hardy
“Oh, damn it,” Martin murmured, as Yao Xiu narrowed her eyes and Inqiz chuckled darkly into the night. He sighed, raising his hands in mock-surrender. “At least, it was worth a try.”
It was at that moment that the thought struck him. Why were people suddenly developing new talents so quickly?
***
“Hey, Ishida, Venkati. You have some time to chat?”
The walker stationed in the Sahaasi camp cried out at the Maharaja’s tent, his way barred by two scowling gurkhas. The combined Sahaasi-Taiyo camp allowed Martin to station one walker as a liaison ever since tensions died down. They had become something like allies after the Daimyo and the Maharaja agreed to his plan, but the regular troops still viewed his walkers with suspicion. It wasn’t a problem for Martin. They were this close to bashing each other’s heads in before agreeing to a truce, so he didn’t blame them if they didn’t fully trust him. They hadn’t turned on him like a certain Empress who claimed she never sent out orders to stab Martin in the back while he was at his weakest.
At least not yet.
“Oi,” Venkati remarked, brushing the crumbs out of his vest as he walked out of his tent. “I know we’re not at war anymore, but could you at least announce yourself to one of my servants instead of calling me out like a boy shouting for his playmates? My people absolutely adore me and would kiss the ground I walk on for liberating them from the tyrannical grip of the Empire…” One of the gurkhas standing behind the Maharaja rolled his eyes before straightening himself up, realizing Martin’s walker could see his reactions. “…but I do need to maintain a certain degree of respectability, you know?” Martin peered through the open tent and saw Qiu Ja finishing off a biscuit before wiping the crumbs off her own loose garments. Huh, thought Martin. Or maybe you don’t like anyone disturbing your special alone-time with the good general. Wait. Is he seriously…?
Martin’s scandalized mood evaporated when someone else moved inside the tent. He could hear Ishida voicing out apologies to the former general while Venkati eyed his walker with disdain.
“Uh, sorry?” Martin replied dumbly, when he realized he’d been lost in his dirty thoughts, staring into the tent for too long. “I meant, I’m sorry and… is this a bad time? It’s nothing urgent, really, and I can come back later if you’re busy.”
Venkati’s brows shot up in surprise, then deepened into furrows as he thought about the implications of Martin’s words. “No, no. It’s perfectly alright,” he finally said, ruffling the last bits of food out of his prodigious beard before slicking his moustache straight with a bit of saliva. He ducked back into the tent, mumbled out an apology to his guest, and then strode back out with a frown on his face.
“Right. You have my full attention now, Martin Fuller. What did you want to ask?”
Yikes. Looks like everything’s not perfectly alright.
“I, uh, I wanted to ask you about how your people and Ishida’s people are learning one another’s respective abilities so quickly. It’s weird that—”
Venkati narrowed his eyes at Martin’s walker, carefully thinking his answer before waving his arm at him. “Come inside, then. Better we have this discussion with snacks and cushions.”
One of the guards balked at Venkati’s actions, staring wide-eyed at Venkati then to the walker then back to Venkati again. “Maharaja, do you think it wise to—”
“It’s fine, Gupta,” Venkati scoffed gently. “I would like to consider Martin an ally, and better to start treating him like one. Besides, we should be safe; Martin here isn’t in a killing mood at the moment.”
Venkati chuckled as he turned around and walked back into the spacious tent. Martin ducked apologetically to the two guards, who grudgingly let him pass into the Maharaja’s quarters. Martin nearly doubled back at the luxuries he saw inside. The Maharaja resumed his place back in the central dining area, pouring himself a drink of watered-down wine. Ishida returned to his own place, eyeing Martin’s walker with caution without being too overtly hostile about it. Qiu Ja remained where Martin first saw her, nibbling daintily on a pastry of some sort. Soft blankets, scenic tapestries, plump cushions, and even a few sturdy-looking desks surrounded them all.
“Wow,” Martin said, dumbly, as he took in the sights before him. “Do you bring all this everywhere you go?”
Venkati twirled the tip of his moustache—something that Martin tried but failed hard to ignore—and shrugged his shoulders. “I am technically sieging your fortress here, since I can’t have my forces retreat until my engineers finish building a fortress out here. It will take some time, so might as well make my stay a comfortable one.”
“Wait, why are you building a fortress here?”
Venkati swayed his head as he explained. “This valley you’re occupying is a natural bottleneck for anyone attempting to cross over into my lands. Building a fortress of my own here will either force the attackers to exhaust themselves on its walls or circle around the mountains, stretching their supply lines while dealing with a lot of ugly terrain on the way here. Either option will give me more time to muster my troops, prepare my people for war.”
“I thought we were allies,” Martin said while eyeing Venkati with suspicion, though his walker didn’t have a face for him to express such an emotion.
Venkati simply smirked as he bit into a small biscuit dusted with a fine layer of sugar on top. “Trust is nice, but verified trust is better. You don’t hear me whining and moaning about that big, ugly thing you call a fortress breathing down my neck, do you?”
Martin held the Maharaja’s gaze for a few seconds before breaking down into a chuckle. “You do have a point there.”
“And besides, this place would make an ideal border town,” the Maharaja continued. “The land is rich and fertile, my scouts have found a few springs by the base of the mountains, and this area is right on the edge of the territories I can claim for my Dominion. Settlers will find safety under the shadow of not one but two fortresses, and the soldiers posted here can help support commerce. If the Empress decides to accept reality and recognize my control over the Sahaasi, then this frontier town will prosper even further from all the trade to and from our respective lands.”
Martin nodded with his walker, seeing the Maharaja’s points. “All well and good. And I expect the Empress to be more accommodating after she learns of your role in dealing with the Shogun.”
Qiu Ja’s ears perked up at that. “Dealing with the Shogun? What do you mean by that?”
Martin caught Ishida’s scowl and realized his slip-up. “Um…” He could see Ishida reddening up, preparing to berate Martin for his loose lips when Venkati sighed and held his hand up, silencing them all.
“Ishida will retake the Isles of Taiyo and cut support for the Shogun with help from my people.”
“What!?”
“Venkati!”
Two voices shouted at unison, one from a shocked general and another from a livid lordling. “Why did you tell her that!? We agreed to keep it between the three of us until we are ready to execute!”
Venkati raised his hands up in surrender. “You can blame Martin’s indiscretion for that. Better to satisfy the good general’s curiosity now than have her poking around, asking questions and raising suspicions that the Shogun’s Rats can pick up.”
Ishida shook his head and sat down with a huff, crossing his arms. “Pardon my bluntness, General Qiu Ja, but this is one time where I regret agreeing with Venkati to give you free reign to attend meetings like this.”
“I am not offended, Ishida Daimyo, but it’s not entirely pointless.” Qiu Ja replied after regaining her composure, though she put down her teacup with a slight tremor in her fingers. “The Empress will never truly forgive Venkati for betraying his oaths as a vassal and turning his blades on Imperial troops… my troops.” Venkati winced at the bitterness in her words and wisely kept his mouth shut as she continued. “But the fact that you held your forces here, within your borders,
shows you are not interested in conquering the Empire. And if you do help in undermining the Shogun, this might be enough to convince the Empress to treat with you instead of viewing you as an enemy to eliminate. It will at the very least improve your chances of turning this fleeting armistice into a lasting peace treaty.”
“This is why I give her free reign, Ishida,” explained the Maharaja. “I don’t want to make a lifelong enemy of the Empire, and treating one of the Empire’s Four Great Generals with respect will help in the long run!”
“More like you can’t keep your eyes off her wide hips,” Ishida grumbled softly under his breath. Not softly enough though, for Qiu Ja shifted her face away in embarrassment while Venkati guffawed loudly, the mandalas over his chest glowing brightly with mirth. Martin simply chuckled with amusement. He too suspected that the big man truly enjoyed the company of his captive, and that the captive wasn’t entirely unwilling. Stockholm syndrome, indeed.
Ishida quickly realized his error and he decided to change the topic, picking up a biscuit and crunching down on its glazed surface to mask his own shame. “Right. Now that we are done spilling one another’s secrets, I guess it’s time to focus on the matter at hand.” He turned to face Martin’s walker, still chewing angrily at the poor biscuit in his mouth. “What is so urgent that you would need to seek me and Venkati as soon as you can?”
Martin jumped in his seat, suddenly remembering why he came here in the first place. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head as he met Ishida’s angry glare. “Um… it’s nothing much. I just want to ask if you have any idea why your people have such an easy time learning one another’s techniques. I mean, doesn’t it normally take a few years for people to learn how to cycle prana into their bodies, much less generate it? And isn’t blood-binding a rare ability that also takes years to hone?”
“Why do you ask?” Maharaja Venkati said, quenching his mirth and replacing it with a cloud of suspicion. Would it be worth it to come up with a story? Would it do for Martin to tell him that he was simply curious?
Martin decided to shoot straight this time. He’d rather build some goodwill, considering his long-term plans for the Sahaasi and the Taiyo. Besides, Venkati was much sharper than he acted; he would most likely sniff out any distortion that Martin would try to spin out.
“Because something similar is happening up north. Imperial troops are getting better at manipulating chi, and they’re also abnormally good at bonding with jinn.”
“Jinn?” answered Venkati, apparently surprised by this information. “What is a jinn?”
“They’re something like spirits that come in from an otherworldly realm, bind with contractors in this world,” Martin replied with a nod, so focused on Venkati that he failed to notice how Ishida turned his eyes away from the walker at the Maharaja’s feigned ignorance. “The people in the emirate of Ma’an bind with jinn as a matter of fact, but most people in the Bashri Basin have a much harder time reaching out and forming pacts. And yet, even the jinn themselves find it strange how easily they can find suitable partners outside of Ma’an to bond with. It’s unnatural, everyone says.”
Venkati nodded at Martin’s words, sharing a look with Ishida. Martin caught how Ishida met Venkati’s eyes, spotted the look that told him they knew something about what he was talking about. Venkati cocked his head to the side for a moment. He looked at the walker, then back to Ishida. Ishida returned Venkati’s look with a scowl and crossed arms. Venkati maintained his stare for a few moments longer before Ishida deflated with a sigh and quickly nodded his head.
“We have our suspicions about how this might be possible,” Venkati declared tentatively, speaking slowly. “Ishida and I have done a little testing and it’s not conclusive. In fact, we know little about how the whole thing works. But we do think it has something to do with you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Ishida replied with a solemn nod. “Or at least those obelisks of yours.”
“My obelisks?”
Venkati swayed his head in agreement. “We’re not exactly sure, but we noticed that it’s easy for people under the shadow of that obelisk to learn new techniques while refining ones that they already know. Take myself, for instance.” Venkati stood up, brushed more biscuit crumbs out of his beard, and walked over to one of the desks in his spacious tent. He opened a small chest and pulled out a set of blood-red wraps.
Martin recognized the enchantment on the wraps and immediately scowled. “How did you make those?”
Venkati startled at the sudden menace in Martin’s words, the outrage and disgust. “They were made using his own blood,” Ishida shot quickly, jumping into the discussion before Martin could say anything else. “My people and I have been teaching Venkati and his people how to draw their own blood, to infuse it with power before binding it to their weapons and gear. I have not taught them how to take the blood of others, and they have sworn that they will never do so. They follow the ways of bushido, Martin, and have forsaken the old ways. They will not end up like the Shogun and his barbarians.”
Everyone else in the tent reared up at Ishida’s vehement protests. Venkati was the most surprised, his face melting into a tender expression of gratitude that Martin did not normally see in the usually-boisterous monarch. “Sorry,” Martin said, as he ducked his walker’s head in apology. “I kind of forgot that you can use your own blood in the binding ritual.”
Ishida glared at Martin’s walker for a second longer before deflating and huffing indignantly. “Well, yes. Remember that, and we will have no more problems.”
“I will,” Martin replied with another apologetic nod.
Venkati smiled at the exchange as he silently continued wrapping the straps around his wrists. “It took me a few weeks to learn how to bind my blood to these wraps, and they add a tremendous amount of power with each strike—especially when I pair it with a well-timed surge of prana.” The branching veins on his straps pulsed red with power, while the mandala tattoos all over his body released a steady glow of light. The Maharaja punched softly at Martin’s walker, barely putting any power into it. Martin felt the push of air nudge his walker, and couldn’t help but gasp in surprise.
“Woah,” he said, as the Maharaja continued jabbing the air a few feet away from the walker.
“I’m not manipulating air or emitting force like the Imperial martial artists with their chi projection. No, Martin, what you feel is the residual force of half-hearted jabs hitting the air. Now I’m not one to boast—” Martin would have joined Ishida and Qiu Ja in rolling their eyes if his walkers had eyeballs “—but a great punch with all my effort thrown into it would most likely send pieces of your walker crashing into the walls of my tent. This is something that not even I, with all my innate talent and dedicated training, could achieve with just prana alone.”
Venkati finally started undoing the straps on his fists as he nodded toward Ishida. “And our young lordling here is no slouch either. He and his people can be considered prodigies at the rate they take to the mandalas and master cycling prana into their bodies. You have slain your fair share of samurai during your battles with the Shogun’s forces, yes? ”
Martin startled at the abrupt change in topic. He turned to Ishida, unsure of how to say it. “Spare me not,” Ishida declared with his lips set in a firm line. “I care little for the brutes serving under Inagaki.”
Martin hesitated for a moment longer before turning back to Venkati with a nod.
“Then let me tell you right now, Martin Fuller, that Ishida and his bushi are a step far above them. I have already been impressed by Taiyo swordsmanship before, but with the mandala channeling their focus even further? Ishida can be quite terrifying on the battlefield, and I hope to never have to meet him as an enemy.”
Ishida chuffed to hide his embarrassment, but Martin could see the young man’s grin trying to break through his stoic façade. This may be the first time Martin had a chance to study Venkati’s blood-bound str
aps from this close, but his eyeballs easily recognized Ishida from afar while the Daimyo trained with his men. Martin thus knew all about Ishida’s burgeoning skills with his blade, along with the explosive development of everyone training in the Sahaasi encampment. Venkati wasn’t the only one who believed in verifying trust, after all. This knowledge was why he decided to ask Venkati and Ishida about what they knew in the first place.
“And all this… because of the obelisks I put up?”
Venkati shrugged, putting his palms up in the air. “We suspect it is so. Ishida and I sent people further away from your obelisks, down south to the cities of Gayakvad and Chattarak. Nothing came from them while they trained there. My people only succeeded in bleeding themselves, while Ishida’s people only succeeded in getting interesting new tattoos. Those who remained close to your obelisk progressed quickly, already binding blood into their equipment and forming self-sustaining cycles of prana within themselves.”
“Interestingly enough,” Ishida continued, after nodding toward Venkati. “The people we sent away started learning rapidly when they returned here, to the camp. Venkati’s people did nothing different from their training regimens in the south, but they can already start coaxing some life into their spilled blood. On the other hand, my own people started finding their centers when they meditated upon the mandalas inked on their skin. It’s only a matter of time until they start drawing energy, purifying it, and then generating prana on their own.”
Qiu Ja eyed the two men with keen interest, taking in everything she could. Venkati noticed this, and turned to face her. “General Qiu Ja, you have some skill in manipulating chi, yes?” She nodded eagerly, her eyes never leaving his face. “I’m not as adept as martial artists who are born talented and dedicate their lives to honing their craft, but I am able to internalize chi to bolster my strength and speed.”