Way of the Immortals

by Harmon Cooper

  It was only a few moments later that Saruul returned, arranging my sleeping mat on the ground.

  “And you’re sure about this, right?”

  “I’m the one propositioning you,” she reminded me. “You have a courage that no mortal has ever shown to me. Any outsider, including your monk friend, would have either circled around me or…” She nodded. “I know what I’m worth to your people.”

  “Those aren’t my people.”

  “Clearly, and I know what I’m worth to those people. There are many who would have been able to purchase a home with what they could have stripped from my carcass. Think about that.”

  “I would rather not. I like you just the way you are.”

  “You prefer me in this form?”

  She moved closer to me, placing a hand on my chest.

  “You are beautiful in both forms, but obviously, this one suits me more.”

  Saruul laughed. “I like your sense of humor. Maybe after you finish this little quest of yours, you will come back to my village and meet my people.”

  “Something tells me that they would not welcome me with open arms,” I said, placing my hands on her waist.

  “No, they would probably try to kill you, but after I told them of what had happened, and after my father got involved, they would behave. There would be a few that were jealous; it’s the nature of my people. But if they tried anything I would kill them, or you would with this new weapon that you plan to get, the one you and the monk spoke of earlier while we walked.”

  “The Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom.”

  “Yes, such a peculiar name.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll get the weapon yet or not,” I told her honestly. “Fire swords aren’t really my thing.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get the weapon once you realize the good that you can do with it.”

  “Weapons for good?”

  “What else are they useful for if not for the greater good?” she said, rising up to the tips of her toes and kissing me.

  I was warmed by her presence, an energy swelling between us.

  There was a real attraction here, something powerful, primordial, and it wasn’t long before we had both gotten down to my sleeping mat.

  She had me out of my robes in a matter of seconds, her hand coming to my face, grabbing my throat as she kissed her way down my chest.

  She looked up at me and pressed me onto my back, climbing on top of me, straddling me in the way that she had when we first met.

  There was no more foreplay.

  Saruul grabbed my member and rubbed it against the front of her sex, moaning, looking down and smiling at me as she slowly led me in.

  Then we were moving, Saruul fully into the action, her hips doing all the work.

  I blinked my eyes shut, enjoying the way it felt, inhaling the energy that we were sharing, the moment we were creating.

  The lioness smiled down at me, confident as she pressed her hands onto my chest and lifted her legs, squatting, now moving her ass up and down, her eyes narrowed on me.

  We went at it like this for another couple of minutes until she tired, letting me take charge. She got onto her stomach in a sphinx pose, her elbows propping her up as I entered her from behind, her tail curling in the air, part of the motion that we were creating together.

  I moved my hand to her neck, to her chin, my finger grazing against her lips.

  She bit down on my finger, sucking it and moaning as she did so.

  I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d orgasmed.

  I continued going even though I’d already finished. Saruul made a high-pitched squeak, and with a final breath out I collapsed on top of her, kissing the back of her neck, still inside her.

  “That was fun,” she whispered.

  “Worth the wait?”

  “Maybe, but it would’ve been fun to do it in the road.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Steam Monk

  I awoke alone the next morning, tucked under the sleeping bag. Saruul was gone.

  Just as she said, I thought, lying on my side for a moment.

  I wanted to say goodbye to her, and I wanted to see the strange woman one more time.

  I still wasn’t at the point that I would say that Lhasa had grown on me, but since being freed from my imprisonment, I was starting to like the place more.

  There was so much magic and mystery here, all operating alongside wonderful things that did not exist in my world. Maybe I would have felt differently if I had been forced underground for longer, but getting a second chance, as it were, had really lit a fire in my soul to get to the bottom of all this.

  Once I located my friends, if they were still alive, we would try to figure out what had caused these portals in the first place.

  With this thought in mind, I took my seat, watching the sun on the horizon peeking through the same holes the moon had come through last night. Eventually, Lhandon found me, the portly monk breathing heavily as he made his way up the ramp that led to this space.

  “I knew you were around,” he said, catching his breath. “I knew that you wouldn’t abandon me here.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “Saruul and I had unfinished business. We didn’t want that business to disturb your sleep.”

  “I see,” he said, noticing that I was sitting on top of my sleeping bag and my shirt was off. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Sure did,” I told him. “But she’s gone now, and who knows if I’ll ever see her again.”

  “Surely she told you a way to call her back to your side,” he said as he adjusted his robes.

  “Actually…”

  My jaw dropped as a memory came to me, something that had happened early in the morning. Was I making it up? No, it had to be true, I distinctly remembered her waking me up, whispering something in my ear, a way for me to contact her.

  “So she did, didn’t she?”

  “She did,” I said with a nod. “But I don’t see how that would call her to my side.”

  Lhandon shrugged. “Maybe it’s something you can test out later. I was planning to make breakfast, if you would care to join me.”

  “Definitely.” I got to my feet and rolled up my sleeping bag.

  Once I was set, we made our way down the ramp and back to the fire pit, fresh wood ready to go.

  Lhandon worked on the fire while I packed up the rest of our campsite, not touching anything that belonged to Baatar, the hermit owner of the cave.

  Coming back in with a pot full of snow, Lhandon put it on the fire, using a cup to go and get more snow to add to it.

  The boiling water made a bit of steam, and just as Lhandon was returning, a face began to form, the steam circulating back around to strengthen the image.

  “Master of Ice?” Lhandon asked

  The face glared at Lhandon. “Who told you that you could use my cave?”

  Lhandon bowed to the steam. “The Monastery of the Exonerated One was attacked, and all the monks, including the Exonerated One himself, were killed by treasure hunters. We came here seeking advice, and possibly a weapon or two, so we can defend the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom.”

  “And who told you I was a Master of Ice?” the cloud of steam asked. “I am but a monk, no different than yourself.”

  “So humble of you, Master of Ice. We encountered a spirit,” Lhandon explained, “and this trickster spirit claimed that you created it. I didn’t know if you had been given this honorary title or not.”

  “Absolutely not,” the steam said in a billowing voice. “I prefer my real name, Baatar the Eternal Hermit.”

  “Yes, Eternal Hermit,” Lhandon said, bowing again. “I’m sorry, I mean we’re sorry to disturb your dwelling.”

  “And who are you?” Baatar’s steam face turned to me. He continued to billow out of the pot, practically a cloud of smoke by this point.

  “My name is Nick Barnette, and I’m an outsider.”

  He laughed. “Clearly. With a name like Nick, I’m assuming you are not fr
om this world.”

  “I’m from a planet called Earth…”

  “I’m not interested in where you’re from, at least not now,” the hermit said. “Maybe if we have a chance to meet in the future, I will write down your story, but for now, you’ve come and disturbed my cave, waking me from a deep meditation.”

  “Of course,” Lhandon said. “You’re in this very mountain!”

  “I am indeed. Almost at the very tip, in a cave that is only reachable by flight.”

  “You can fly?” I asked him.

  “You can have relations with a lioness in my humble abode?” he asked me. “As unique as you may think you are, Nick, you still know very little about the creatures of this world, and their capabilities.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told him.

  “Don’t be,” he said, laughing again. “Had I been your age, I may have done the same thing. But now I know better. While it may be interesting to see what the union between a Golden One and a lioness spawns, it could also prove troublesome.”

  “You believe he is a Golden One?” Lhandon asked, wide-eyed.

  I’d heard the phrase several times, but in no way would I use it to describe myself. I could tell it meant something to Lhandon, his hand coming to his chin as he considered the possibilities.

  “I assumed he may be a nalropa, but not a Golden One…”

  The steam nodded. “Of the five that were brought to our world, I believe he may be the one that can liberate the most, to right some of the evils in Lhasa and strengthen our people for the coming days. Perhaps you will be able to commune with the Overworld and the Underworld, bringing about a new age.”

  “You know about my friends?” I asked.

  “Three are your friends, one is your enemy, correct?”

  I nodded. “But how? How can you know all of this?”

  “Being at the top of this mountain gives me an interesting view of the world,” Baatar said. “I’ve lived more lives inside my head then I could ever get down on parchment, and I’ve foreseen your coming. Nevertheless, there are great obstacles in your way, and before you can truly take the mantle of a Golden One, and lead this kingdom to heights it could never imagine on its own, you’ll have to cultivate an energy the likes of which you have never experienced.”

  “I haven’t decided what I want to do yet,” I told him honestly.

  “I can appreciate that. You’re not from here, and your goal is to find your friends again, to get back to where you are from. It’s a very human instinct.”

  “We have come here seeking weapons,” Lhandon said.

  “I do not have weapons for you, but I do have something else. For you, Nick, I have a rune that will help you preserve yourself in the coming battles.” Baatar’s lips parted, and as if he were trying to blow a smoke ring, a character appeared.

  “Ma-Gyal,” Lhandon whispered.

  Baatar continued. “You already know the characters passed down from the ancient texts, even if you don’t know that you know them, but this one should be easy for you considering it borrows from the characters you’ve already learned. Ma-Gyal will allow you to absorb three strikes, no matter how strong. To draw it, start on the far end…”

  As he spoke, the steam disappeared and another puff took shape, the characters forming again. It looked like a very artistic rendition of the number three with a small circle under one of the curves. That, or the number two with something attached to the top of it and a circle under the bracket it created.

  “Right to left, and finish the character before you add the full moon,” he said, referring to the circle. “But remember, it will only absorb three blows. After that… Let’s just hope you finish the fight before you get to that point.”

  “I understand,” I said, and for some reason, every time I shut my eyes I was able to see the rune as if it had been imprinted on my brain. “And how often am I able to use it?”

  “Once per day, unfortunately.”

  “Does it have a name?” Lhandon asked.

  “No. I created it and I’ve yet to name it. When you move to a higher stage, you may be able to use it more often,” he told me. “While you have exhibited powers beyond any Broken Sword, you do not know the lore, nor do you know the significance of the Way of the Immortals, which is the chosen religion of these lands. Because of the power you have exhibited, I would personally classify you as a Wheel with a Rusty Axle, a basic cultivator, but that is only because of your unique ability. Most practitioners, if not all, will never get a taste of controlling reality. So you may exhibit the Power, but it’ll take some time before you master it.”

  “I will do my best to instruct him, Baatar,” Lhandon promised him.

  “Good. Now, your company has interrupted my meditation long enough, so I’ll move on to you, Lhandon, and then we’ll be done with all this. You too will play a role in protecting the Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom. Do you see the prayer beads I’ve draped over the rock on the other side of the room?”

  Lhandon turned, spotting the prayer beads. He retrieved them and brought the beads closer to the steam.

  “Yes, those are the ones. This is a very unique strand of prayer beads, something given to me by a hermit from the Kingdom of Paro. Each of these prayer beads can turn a hundred times its size once it is plucked from the string that keeps it attached to the leather. They may seem small now, but if you toss one, it will quickly grow to the size of a large boulder, much larger than yourself.”

  Lhandon’s cheeks turned red. “I understand.”

  “Since you don’t really possess a fighting ability, this will give you a way to assist Nick.” Baatar took a deep breath, a cloud of steam exiting his lips.

  “Thank you, Eternal Hermit.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, trying not to sound awkward and failing.

  The cloud of steam yawned. “Have your breakfast, and get to the gate. May you continue to cultivate your powers, to better understand the Path of the Divine. If you do succeed, it is your duty, Nick, to take the Flaming Thunderbolt. I wasn’t planning on both of you showing up in my cave last night, and you disturbing me by fornicating with the lioness. But this is the path I was presented with, and it is the path that you are being presented with. No more questions; take the sword. Once I’m done with my meditation I will come to your monastery, Lhandon.”

  “You plan…” Lhandon gulped. “You plan to come to my monastery?”

  “The Exonerated One has died with mixed honor, leaving but one monk to plant a new garden. Make it through today, and I’m sure a title will be given to you, something you can be proud of. Perhaps you will also find ways to gain the support of the locals, to further their teachings as well. It is time the Path of the Divine gets some structure, something that will help it spread, proving it is the most beneficial way to use and understand the Way of the Immortals. Good day, good karma, and good luck to the both of you.”

  And with that, the cloud of steam was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Fist of Force

  We reached the hills beneath the gate. It was clear by the footprints in the snow that Fist of Force and his treasure hunter henchmen had already reached the space.

  We were in for a fight.

  “Not much further now,” Lhandon said, catching his breath. “Just around these rocks. I would bet they’re there now trying to figure out the puzzle.”

  “You mean they don’t know how to actually open the gate?”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t able to hear what the Exonerated One told them, if anything. But I don’t think he would have volunteered that information, so no, I don’t think they’ve figured it out.”

  “Let me see if I can sneak around this rock a bit and get a better view,” I told him.

  “Be careful,” he said. “We’re too close to make a mistake now.”

  I started to move my way around the rock that was shaped like one of the Easter Island faces. Everything was icy, but I was determined to get a better view of what was happening, and once
I made my way up just a little further around it, I was finally able to see what was happening on the other side.

  There were eight treasure hunters gathered around a female prisoner.

  Sona.

  It was clearly her, the woman with a pink and purple energy radiating off her hands, weak, barely clothed, sitting in the snow with her head bowed forward. Fist of Force was in front of the men, wearing a fur overcoat with a hood on it, a frustrated look on his face as he tried to figure out how to use the items.

  I saw a bowl made of stone and a pillar with several stone hooks.

  Other than that, there was an enormous gate, easily thirty feet high with barbs along its edge. There were also a host of ladders discarded near the gate, telling me that many had tried to scale it, and that none had ever succeeded.

  As quietly as possible, I shimmied my way back down the rock to find Lhandon waiting for me.

  “Well?”

  “Nine men in total and they have a prisoner, the head of Madame Mabel’s elite gaurd, Sona.”

  “They’ve made no progress on the gate, then.”

  “Nope, they’re just standing around it.”

  He shook his head. “They’re doing it at the wrong time of day.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The gate can only be opened if the moon and the sun are in the sky at the same time, so at dusk, or early in the morning. I suppose it’s possible for someone to do it during the day if the moon is visible, but the traditional time to do it would be morning or dusk.”

  “And how does that work?”

  “Put the Sand of Armeck in the bowl, and hang the Mirrored Pendant of Danzen off one of the hooks. You have to aim the moon’s reflection at the sand, and once that is set, you simply stab it with the Mummified Hand of Dolma. Easy.”

  “I don’t know if I would describe that as easy,” I told him.

  He chuckled softly. “That is one of the easier ways to open a forbidden gate in this kingdom, if you ask me. You should hear some of the other ones.”

  “I’m sure they would make me cringe.” I settled my breath.