A Simple Spark
“Zasao, child of Torek and Yeikon, of the Fong Family. You have been found wanting. Your thirteenth Summer has come and gone, yet you have proven incapable of utilizing the most basic of the Immortal Bifang Sect’s teachings,” Grandmaster Torek spoke in an unwavering, firm voice, showing no hesitation in what he was about to do, regardless of the fact that it was his own son.
The son in question was shedding tears as initiates held him still, his father stepping down the steps with all the rush of a content tortoise. Grandmaster Torek held up his right hand and with a minuscule amount of qi, coated his hand in flame.
“By the laws set down by Fong Nozo, the Immortal Bifang and the founder of this sect, you are hereby exiled from our lands. You will have the mark of shame seared upon your visage, and upon day’s end you will have one week to cross the border.
“After the week passes, should you be found within our lands you will be forded no protection under the Law and a price placed for proof of your death.”
Left unsaid was the fact that the border was a week’s travel for an uninjured initiate, assuming no difficulties. An exile would not be so fortunate.
[Searing Brand of the Seventh Shame]
Zasao screamed as his father sent a blast of fire into his son’s face, the sizzling sound of cooking flesh lost underneath the cry of pain, anguish, and betrayal. The stream of flame lasted for but a moment, the flash of searing heat burning flesh, but not causing it to melt like wax. Cutting the flow of qi, the mystical flames died.
“Bandage his brand, then cast him from the Burning Gates,” Grandmaster Torek decreed to the initiates holding Zasao before turning and walking away, not bearing his son so much as a glance. Initiates Feng and Yong lifted the unresisting boy and carried him to the sect’s medical area. Burns were a common ailment, as to be expected in a sect that specialized in manipulating fire. Thus, both initiates were accustomed to dealing with burns, though this was a lot worse than the usual training ground burn.
Still, Zasao’s face was bandaged with an ointment made from herbs rich with qi. The ointment would prevent infection and speed the healing, while the bandages would prevent anything from getting into it or the ointment from drying out.
With the wound given basic treatment, the initiates picked up the passed out form of Zasao and dragged him towards the gates. With less than the care shown to a sack of rice, he was thrown out onto the road, the doors to the Grand Ember Gate slamming shut, sealing his exile. Having passed out from pain, Zasao simply lay there in the dirt, the sun shining down on his back.
It was two hours after being cast out that Zasao regained consciousness. Half delirious from pain and the beginnings of heatstroke, he shuffled to his feet, looked back at the barred gate. He wanted to bang on it, to beg to be let back in. It was the first time he’d been beyond the walls of the Sect. He had no coin, no food, no supplies, no weapons. His qi, his one resource that put him above a common beggar, refused to ignite, no matter how he tried to follow the teachings of his Masters.
Wiping the tears from his unbandaged eye, Zasao turned to face the dirt road, and shuffled away. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had no choice. The laws of the Immortal Bifang Sect were iron, and those laws said that he had one week to reach the mainland. How he’d manage that… spirits be willing, he’d find a way. If he didn’t, and members of the Sect found him, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Zasao didn’t keep track of how long he walked for, besides the fact that the sun had set, risen, and set again. His qi bolstered his body, letting him walk without rest long after any without their qi awoken could dream of. As the sun set for the second time, Zasao stopped. The ointment under the bandage had stopped tingling, a sign that the healing had achieved as much as it could.
A glance on either side of the road let Zasao spot a rock with something approaching an edge. It wouldn’t so much as deter a fox, but it suited his needs. Carefully holding the rock in his hand, Zasao let his qi seep out, following the edge of the rock. It wasn’t true reinforcement, nor would it serve as a practical technique in combat, but for cutting away bandages it served just fine.
As the bandages came away, Zasao threw aside the rock and his fingers gently probed the skin under them. Rough, deadened sense of touch, eyelid would barely open…
With a deep breath, Zazao closed his unscarred eye and pulled the bandages away. As he feared, the world was reduced to a blurry mess, large masses of color that melted from one to another with seemingly no rhyme or reason.
Tears pooled in his uninjured right eye. He was already a failure of a disciple, his sister having learned to ignite her qi at a mere three years old, whereas he couldn’t even light a candle. Now, his entire left side was effectively a blind spot. As skilled as he was at unarmed combat and with the twin dao, he had to retrain himself to account for his damaged peripheral vision. That would require time and, preferably, a sparring partner. Neither of which he had at the moment.
Sighing in resignation, he continued on his way, the brief respite having served its purpose in giving his qi a chance to recover as well as assessing how bad the damage was. He had six sunrises before he was without legal protection, and if he remembered the map of the islands correctly, he’d be able to reach port by midday on the following day.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Zasao let out a sigh of relief as he spotted the port town in the distance. He hadn’t seen any initiates in the days since he was cast out, but with the largest city in the islands, that was likely to change. He needed to find a ship that was traveling to the mainland, and somehow secure passage on it without getting killed by a disciple that recognized what the burn over his left eye signified. Taking in a deep breath and holding it, Zasao set out. Watching the city wasn’t going to get him off the island any faster.
Pulling the straw hat he’d stolen down over his face, Zasao closed his left eye. He didn’t need the confusing mess of colors and shapes that it made to his vision. He paid attention to the sounds that reached his ears, remaining watchful for any sign that someone was preparing to attack him. He even let a small amount of his qi emanate from his body, in a trick he’d discovered as a youth. It was akin to the way Masters would release their aura to humble arrogant disciples, but instead of a loud roar announcing his presence, it was a soft whisper asking who was there.
Of the initiates and disciples at the sect, only his sister had ever noticed him doing this, and she mistook it for him being weak in showcasing his aura. Even his father and mother had made that same mistake. Only his uncle had seen the potential in it. Only Uncle Akonu had realized how it reacted with the qi of cultivators. It wasn’t meant to subdue or intimidate. It was meant to let Zasao identify cultivators around him, even if he couldn’t see them.
If he had the time, he’d be able to spread it out to fill the entire city. But, on top of not having the time, it would let any cultivator in the city know that he was there. Not where he was, but they’d feel his qi brushing against their own. That would draw more attention than he wanted, so he kept his qi close to him, enough to give him warning if another cultivator got too close.
Fortunately, he didn’t encounter any other cultivators as he drew closer to the docks. He didn’t speak to anyone, he had no money with which to purchase passage, and his scar meant that anyone who had even a passing familiarity with the laws of the Immortal Bifang Sect would be disinclined to let him onto their ship. So he’d have to stow away onto a ship and hope he could remain undiscovered until they were too far out to sea to just throw him overboard.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He heard the sound of the anchor being pulled up, of men rushing back and forth across the deck, orders being shouted. He’d managed to stow away on a ship, now he just had to avoid detection. Easier said than done.
Zasao kept to the cargo hold as much as possible, ducking behind the crates of raw ore that the peasants under his former sect’s protection mined, along with the abundance of relics unearthed from ruins of the Before Time. The most common having the seal of a fish-tailed spirit, or perhaps it was a noble family’s sigil?
Regardless, Zasao managed to remain undetected for two days into the voyage; before the shouts above and the pounding of feet on the deck told him that there was something strange going on. Curiosity overriding his caution, Zasao made his way out of the cargo hold, to see the entire crew staring at something in the distance.
Being a mere thirteen, he couldn’t see past the throng of men, but a glance around showed the rigging to the sails. Scampering up the rope to the top of the mast, Zasao’s eye widened as he saw what had the sailors so fascinated.
It was a spirit. Not an animal that had developed intelligence and its own cultivated qi, but a true spirit! It resembled a viper, fangs visible even from this great distance, but with a feathered mane and four massive wings. Its scales were a deep, rust red while its feathers were a sharp yellow. It flew through dark clouds, arcs of golden lightning dancing along its form as it danced across the sky.
Zasao’s chest burned, the pain reminding him to breathe, so great was his shock and awe that he hadn’t noticed he’d stopped. It was one of the Immortal Heavenly Beasts, it had to be. No spirit beast could grow so large, so mighty, and so divorced from it’s mortal ken.
The spirit’s gaze turned in the ship’s direction, and… Zasao didn’t know how, but he could feel that it was looking directly at him. Its gaze seemed to pierce through him, to his soul. Despite the distance, Zasao could feel the spirit’s qi pressing down on him, examining him.
You…
Zasao didn’t know precisely what had happened after that. His left arm, which was clinging to the mast, screamed in sharp, burning, crawling agony. His ears rang. Spots danced across his vision. His back hit something cold, hard, unforgiving. Water filled his lungs.
The cold shock of the seawater let Zasao regain his focus. His left arm felt weak, and twitched and writhed without his command, but his legs and right arm still obeyed. Kicking his way to the surface, he coughed out seawater and took a deep breath, before his eye widened and he dove back down.
Even underwater, the mast crashing into the sea was thunderous in its volume. But, it provided something for Zasao to cling to. Swimming back to the surface, he climbed up onto the mast to see that the rest of the ship was in similar shape. Most of the top deck was on fire, several of the sailors were as well. Some dove over the edge, only to disappear beneath the waves.
You survived. You are stronger than your ancestor. Even having feasted on the essence of my brothers and sisters, that would have killed her. Zasao looked up, the spirit looming over him, his winding coils vanishing within the dark clouds.
Weather the storm. Survive the wrath of the sea. Grow stronger. Harness the gift you have been given. In twenty five years, I will find you. Then we will see which of our blood is stronger: the mortal kin of Sayuri Brown the Defiler of Nests, or Baofeng Xi the Storm Serpent.
The spirit hissed before flying up into the clouds, the winds suddenly whipping and rain pouring with the fury of a storm that had been until then been denied. Zasao’s arm and legs gripped the mast, but his mind wasn’t on the danger surrounding him. Nor was it on the words spoken by the spirit, though he did not ignore the threat. No, his mind was on how the spirit had manipulated his qi.
Forcing his left arm to obey him, he lifted it up in front of his face and focused his qi. Feeling his qi, he concentrated, trying to pull the individual elements that made qi what it was apart. He bobbed in the ocean for hours, his gaze and focus on his still shaky hand. Then, a spark jumped between his fingers.
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