by Brian Fisher
Chapter 50
Mist clung to the lush, green foliage of the mountains like a gossamer veil, shutting away the deep valleys below. The morning sun eased over the horizon, bathing the world in a soft light. Sturdy, single level wooden buildings dotted the rugged mountain peaks, just below the tree line.
Sula Mir sat cross-legged in the cool grass with an easy smile resting on her young face. Life was simple for her in the mountains of Bakesh. Since so few people bothered her after her parents died, she did what she needed, and in turn, didn't needlessly bother anyone else. Most of the people simply didn't know what to do with her, so they just tolerated Sula's existence. Her early morning excursions were her only escape.
A light breeze blew in from the other mountains, carrying with it the scent of smoke. Sula squinted, searching for where the smoke had come from. Then she saw it. The settlement two peaks away blazed brightly, every building engulfed in flames.
Sula jumped to her feet and ran back inside the village. A few lights burning in windows dotted the streets in the morning light. Her lungs burned as she ran. She flew past homes and shops, barely glancing at them before stopping at the village center.
Standing in front of the open village square, blocking her entrance to the town hall, was a group of men and women that she knew were not to be trusted. Each of them looked tired and covered in soot.
An older man stepped forward. Sula recognized him instantly as Malek. "Morning Sula. Going somewhere?" he sneered.
"Yes actually. I was going to warn everyone about the fire, but there's no need is there?" Sula glanced about, looking for an escape and found none.
"Perceptive aren't we?" Malek's face cracked with a sickening smile. "No, there is no need. Fighting the Regiment is useless. Let our enemies die in their sleep." he glanced at his comrades.
Sula read the treachery in his eyes. Seeing her chance, she ran. The freedom of the empty streets loomed in front of her. Breathing hard, she raced ahead. Searing hot fire exploded from her right leg followed by the sharp crack of a rifle.
Rock bit sharply into her hands and arms as she collapsed to the hard ground. Sula screamed a warning to the town, but her voice was overpowered by the staccato bursts of automatic weapons fire. In the cool morning air, everyone she saw every day died.
Tears flowed from her eyes, threatening to drown the rage that burned deep in Sula's heart. Her home was gone, her safe haven shattered. Furious, Sula struggled to her feet. The pain in her leg shot searing bolts of agony through her body. She stubbornly clutched her thigh and staggered on.
"Going somewhere?" she heard the whisper in her ear, followed by the working of a bolt. "Turn around. Slowly."
Sula turned, keeping her movements smooth and cautious, until she stood face to face with Malek. His countenance burned with deceit and anger.
"I told you that fighting us was useless." he sneered. "Join us, and I'll let you live."
"I'll fight you with my dying breath." Sula glared then spat in his face.
"So be it." was all Malek said before slamming his rifle butt into Sula's face.
Pain coursed through Sula's entire body as she woke. Her nerve endings blazed with white-hot agony. Smoke burned her eyes and filled her lungs. Bright orange and red flames cavorted up the walls and across the carved wooden beams that held the cathedral ceiling. Sula's skin blistered then burned like the charred paint on the walls.
She forced herself to crawl for a gaping hole in the nearest wall. Blood and sweat flowed into her eyes. Wooden rafters fell burning to the floor, narrowly missing Sula as she crawled.
As she drew closer to the crumbling wall, a breath of fresh air kissed her blistered skin before it was crushed in the heat. Gasping in pain, Sula drug herself through the hole and onto the wilting grass on the other side. She forced herself away from the building before she collapsed in exhaustion.
Sula lay gasping until her head cleared. Gingerly, she forced herself to her feet. Horror met her eyes and ripped at her heart as she surveyed the carnage. Bodies lay strewn about the streets and every building was set ablaze. Everyone was dead. Women, children, old, and young had all left to meet the gods.
Tears, fueled by rage, welled up in Sula's eyes. There would be retribution, and she would bring it.
Days passed into weeks as Sula labored to find and bury the dead. Slowly her wounds began to heal and her strength returned.
The dead were buried and the fires had gone cold before Sula stopped to face her grief. Her food had been meager, but now was gone. Time stood still for the briefest of moments as she steeled herself against the world. There was nothing left to support her or hold her back. Her life was fully hers now, to do with as she wanted.
After Sula had collected herself, she found herself walking towards the dark valleys below. She didn't know what waited for her below the misted tree line. No one she had known went there.
There was no trail leading her, only a desire to leave her past behind, and a burning rage that fueled her every step. The sun disappeared as she sank deeper into the mists. All sense of day or night blurred together until Sula moved solely by feel. Her fingertips clung tenuously to the rock face as she moved steadily down.
Scrub trees grew sporadically on the mountainside. When she found one in her path, Sula took rest and refuge before moving on. As she rested, stray slivers of light broke through the mists to reveal the lush, green valley floor a thousand meters below.
Sula gazed at the depths for as long as the light allowed, then continued her decent. She moved slowly, cautiously searching for the next toehold or handhold. The air grew thicker as she went, helping her lungs and muscles.
A scant few meters away from the safety of the next tree, Sula's toehold broke loose. Her fingertips grazed the bark of the tree as she skidded past. Bits of rock and dirt stung her eyes, and filled her mouth as she careened helplessly down the mountainside.
Sula gritted her teeth as she started tumbling. Bumps and bruises grew into lacerations and broken bones, before she crashed into a small thicket of brush and trees. She lay against the trees in agony before she eventually lost consciousness.
The abyss was absolute. No light or sound touched Sula. Her mind raced, trying desperately to find substance. Screams erupted silently from her lips. She thrashed violently against the abyss, and still nothing touched her torn flesh. After what must have been an eternity, a calming voice touched her mind saying only "Rest child. You are safe."
Reluctantly, Sula opened her eyes. Waves of pain washed over her body. Flickering candlelight cast a golden glow across the tiny room. A single wooden chair sat next to the small, wooden end table that held the candle.
"You are exceptionally lucky my dear." the tenor voice from the darkness fit perfectly with the old man near the door. He was dressed in simple monk's robes, ankle length, woven dark brown cotton with a braided tie about his waist. He was slight of build with thick gray hair. "Rest for now. When you're stronger, we'll talk again."
Sula closed her eyes as the old monk closed the door.
Daylight sifted through the window and woke Sula with its touch. A bowl of porridge sat next to the candle on the table. No one else was in the room, so Sula forced herself up. There were bandages wrapped about her chest, ribs, arms and legs, restricting her movements. Sula's head throbbed as she gently swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Grateful for the robe hanging on a simple hook by the bed, Sula slipped it on while she made her way to the table and eased herself into the chair. The porridge was still warm but didn't have much taste. She didn't care. It was food, so she ate it. Sula leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes and sighed.
A soft knock at the door roused Sula from her temporary respite. "Are you decent child?" the soft tenor voice gently sliced through the silence.
"Yes, please come in." Sula managed to keep most of the pain from her voice. She smiled a little as the door opened and the old monk walked in. He was dressed the same as before, wit
h a look of concern on his weathered face.
"What brings you to us?" he asked gently as he glided across the room to Sula.
"I don't know." she sighed, lightly rubbing the delicate ridges that ran from just below her hairline to the bridge of her nose. "Have you ever heard of the Regiment?" Sula surprised herself by asking the question.
"Of course." the old man smirked slightly. "They are not to be trusted or trifled with." the set of his eyes softened as he spoke. "Are they the reason that you are here?"
"They killed everyone in my village and left me to die." Sula clenched her jaw. "I want them dead." her anger consumed her, leaving no room for love, despair, or compassion.
"Come with me child. You must heal. You must get rid of your hatred before it destroys you." the old monk helped Sula to her feet and out the door.
The hallway outside was well lit and spartan. Hewn stone walls ran for a distance in both directions. Guiding her gently to the left, the monk could feel Sula struggle along, despite her pain.
"I am Ch'Lan, Abbot of the Monastery of the Mountain Winds." Ch'Lan paused to look at Sula. "What may I call you my dear?"
"I'm Sula Mir, an orphan." Sula glanced at the Abbot and then looked away. "Thank you for your help Abbot Ch'Lan."
Saying nothing more, Ch'Lan led Sula deeper into the monastery. Soon they came to a large, well-lit room. It was adorned with a few wall hangings, a single bed, and a couple of sturdy looking chairs. Each of the wall hangings depicted the five elements (earth, air, water, fire, and soul) both separate and united.
Sula turned slowly, taking in her surroundings. "These are your quarters, for as long as you need them Sula." Ch'Lan watched the girl relax slightly before he continued. "We have yet to commence with your healing. Come."
Ch'Lan left the room with Sula close behind. They hadn't gone far before entering a courtyard, bright with sunlight and well kept. At the center of the courtyard, inlaid in the brick was a symbol. It was easily three meters across and divided into five equal and interlocking segments. In each segment was another symbol, symbolizing the five different elements. Stone for earth, wind for air, a river for water, flame for fire, and a tree for soul.
"Here is where we will begin." Ch'Lan said as he turned to face Sula. "You must first relax your mind. Let it flow unhindered with what you're doing. Breathe deeply, into your stomach. This energizes the body and lets they energy flow." Ch'Lan demonstrated what he was saying, until Sula was able to fluidly follow his instructions.
"Now place your feet slightly more than shoulder width apart." he waited patiently as Sula followed his instructions. "Now bend your knees, and roll your hips forward. This will put your back in the proper alignment."
Sula did as she was instructed; fighting through the pain that coursed through her body. She could feel warmth, energy flowing along avenues in her being, racing to her injuries and slamming to a halt. Screaming, Sula collapsed in pain. She cradled her arms and legs, and held her ribs, trying desperately to get it to stop.
"Breath child." Ch'Lan whispered in her ear as he helped her to her feet. Calmly, he placed his hands on her back and closed his eyes. Breathing deep, he slowly moved his hands across her back, drawing the pain out.
Ch'Lan opened his eyes, and moved in front of Sula. "Sit with me Sula, please." With that he sat cross-legged in front of her and waited for her to sit. Sula gingerly sat and crossed her legs. Together they closed their eyes and sat in silence until the quilt of darkness had wrapped the monastery in its folds.
Sula awoke the next morning feeling her aches and pains a little less than the day before. She quickly bathed, dressed and found her way to the communal dining hall. The monks were already eating and quietly discussing the events for the day to come. Quietly she gathered her bowl of porridge and found a seat on the floor near Abbot Ch'Lan.
"Good morning Sula. I am pleased to see that you found us." Ch'Lan smiled.
"Thank you Abbot, it is good to see you again." Sula smile back. "Hunger has a way of persuading people."
"I have a few chores for you to do before we continue your healing." Ch'Lan paused to take a bite of his breakfast. "I'm sure that they won't take too long."
"Of course. I will do my best." Sula stifled a grimace by taking a hasty bite of porridge.
After breakfast ended, Sula found herself sweeping the courtyard. She methodically worked her way back and forth, from one end to the other. The midday meal came and went long before she was finished. Upon the completion of her task, she found Abbot Ch'Lan waiting for her near the great symbol.
"Each day we will begin by repeating what we learned the day prior. Follow me Sula." Ch'Lan said as he began the exercises. Sula took a deep breath and copied the Abbot's movements. She let her mind flow with the energy of her body, letting go of the pain, releasing if only for a moment, the torment of her past.
Days passed into months as Sula practiced and honed her skills with Ch'Lan. Her body healed and strengthened more than she would have dreamed. Her scars were slowly disappearing into her tanned skin.
On a particularly cold winter day, Sula finished her chores, and found Abbot Ch'Lan in his normal place in the courtyard. "I am ready Abbot, to resume my healing." Sula said respectfully as she approached her friend and mentor.
"Not today Sula." Ch'Lan faced her, his expression somber. "Your body is healed. Today we do something else." He began to walk, not looking to see Sula following. "When you came to us, it was the result of an attack on your village. Tell me Sula, what do you think of the men and women that did this to you?"
"I try not to Abbot." Sula paused to think a bit more. "When I do think of them, I have mixed emotions. Anger, frustration, despair, but mostly I feel pity for them. I pity them because they are severely misguided, and they hurt people that don't deserve what is done to them."
"What would you do if you were able to face these people again?" the Abbot continued to walk. They passed out of the monastery, and began to climb a steep mountain trail. "Would you exact vengeance, or would you not act?"
"That is not an easy question to answer." Sula picked her way along the trail behind the old man. "I think that initially I would want revenge, but in the end I would really want justice. Revenge is too self serving, while justice is honorable, and serves everyone, not just yourself."
"Would you hurt them?" Ch'Lan stopped at a grove of trees.
"Not intentionally. I would act to protect myself. I would try not to hurt them, but in some cases, that might be inevitable." Sula studied the trees for a moment. They clung to the mountainside, offering shade and a bit of shelter from the elements.
"Very well Sula." Ch'Lan turned to face his pupil. "I will train you further. You will learn the art of Aichi Te Do. From this moment forward you will be known as T'Sula Mir. You have earned, and will continue to earn this title. Bear it with honor, my student."
T'Sula bowed deeply. "This is an honor, Master." In silent contemplation, T'Sula followed her Master back to the monastery.
As T'Sula walked, her world changed. The mountains morphed into walls, and Ch'Lan disappeared. In his place was Malek, not her mentor, but her enemy.