Mxieayrah's Time Off

This story is set in the weeks before the War of the Three Kingdoms, and tells of one member of the Competent Band of Individuals.

The mighty river roared and churned, sending a dazzling mist over the hastily constructed rope bridge. The young woman stood on the eastern bank, which over the years had become a treacherous ledge overlooking the waters below. She looked to her right, where the well-paved footpath was meant to continue along the water’s edge. The mercurial Henkō River, however, seemed to have decided that the ground supporting the road needed renovating, regardless of mortals’ desire to have a road. Hence the locals’ need to quickly erect this swinging bridge to the other side in order to continue one’s journey downriver.

Mxieayrah smirked as she surveyed the simple bridge, which consisted merely of three ropes, one to stand upon and two for handholds, fastened together at regular intervals. It would do for her, but surely none could reach Henkō Sanctum on the back of any beast. *So this is what he meant about leaving my horse with him.* Though Mxieayrah cared little for coin, she was glad the innkeeper had not fraudulently upsold her on stabling services, or forced her to go on foot for nothing.

The heavy waterlogged ropes hardly took notice as the woman danced across.

Mxieayrah smiled as she arrived at the western bank. She looked forward to mentioning this matter to Master Torus and watching him resist the urge to boast. The villagers had expressed a desire to build a road to Henkō Sanctum to make the trip easier for the merchants who bring supplies, but Torus had advised that any such efforts would be futile. The master would never say ‘I told you so’ to the villagers, but that did not mean he would not take a secret pride in his right to do so. Being one herself, Mxieayrah knew a self-satisfied braggart when she saw one, and the great Master Torus was certainly not exempt from the fatal flaw.

The river's ever-changing nature aside, Mxieayrah knew that it would widen around the next bend and calm, marking the arrival at Henkō Sanctum. She drew in a deep breath. How she had missed Sou-In’s brisk coastal air, the hardy flora, and elusive fauna. It promised to be a sweltering summer in Willowroot, and in Molgrum as well. One last visit to a pleasant climate was in order, as well as a well-deserved break from her band of competent individuals.

Mxieayrah rounded the bend and took in the sight of her home. Henkō Sanctum was nothing short of a masterful feat of engineering. Sure, the dwarves dug miles below the ground and powered lifeless contraptions harnessing the energy put out by the earth’s beating heart, but have they ever built a small village over a wide river using only local lumber and no nails whatsoever? The monk’s eyes traced from eastern bank to west. On the far shore were the archives building and conservatories flanked by the Sanctum’s famed gardens. The great wooden bridge linking the two shores also gave home to the training courtyards, which in turn surrounded the inner sanctum. This four story structure of timber and stone hovered precariously over the water, allowing the water plenty of room to rise and fall with the seasons. On the near bank were the dormitories, kitchens, and other homely facilities.

Altogether, Henkō Sanctum was home to roughly two hundred monks. Seventeen held the rank of Master, of whom Mxieayrah was the youngest. People *loved* to remind her how young of a master she was. Mxieayrah rolled her eyes at the thought. *Oh yes, such an unusual honor, indeed, Brenda.*

A gong sounded from one of the courtyards and echoed across the water. Mxieayrah looked up at the sun and sighed.

*Damn.* She started running.

Master Torus settled into the second position of the session, an advanced crane pose. His ears were attuned to the novices in the back row and their telltale sounds of struggle followed by surrender to a simplified version of the pose. He then felt a stronger sign of their struggle in the ripples sent through the water that his meditation platform floated upon. Surely some of the more attuned senior monks in the front row could feel it as well.

The floating meditation pads upon which he and his disciples now performed meditative yoga were a scheme of his own design that he, at the time of their conception, thought were brilliant. Each pad was a wooden circle floating on the river’s surface, much like the lily pads frequented by frogs. The master’s pad was fastened to the bridge by a heavy rope, keeping it from drifting away in the river current. The student pads were arranged in three columns of five. Each column was a train, with each pad fastened by rope to the pad in front of it. The three front pads of each column were connected to a narrow log running perpendicular to the columns, which in turn was held in place by a rope running from the master’s pad. The river current kept the ropes taught and, barring any major disturbances, the meditation pads floated in a sort of classroom formation.

Any movement made by a monk as they breathed or adjusted their balance was transmitted through the pad and into the water, allowing each monk to detect the movement of the others via their attunement to the disturbances in the water. This way, the monks did not meditate in isolation. They could access insights about their connection to the world’s greater organism by first feeling their peers’ breaths and movements. And if one was untrained, it was of course humorous to watch them fall off the pad and splash into the water when attempting a balance pose.

The pads worked great for the students. Torus’s innovation had led many Henkō monks to their entry level insights, and hence their watershaping abilities, faster than was historically possible. But Master Torus had been leading meditation on these pads for decades, and he was painfully aware of what every ripple and wave meant. Instead of letting himself meditate communally as he was supposed to, he just spent the time using the ripples to mentally grade his students on their technique, like a judgemental school teacher observing an examination, ruler in hand.

*I need to stop leading these.* Master Torus lamented his poor meditation technique. His own students were distracting him. This frustrated Torus, which only led the master to become frustrated at himself for allowing himself to become frustrated. It was a classic trap that he thought he had matured past in his youth. It’s been ruining his meditation for weeks. Or, more accurately, he’s been letting it ruin his meditation, when these feelings should be the meditation itself.

His thoughts turned to the student pad in the front row and to his left, which floated empty, no student upon it.

*I suppose I would be more concerned if she was here on time*.

But reflect on the devils and they will manifest. Likewise, Torus’s thought about the young master received a reply in the form of trace vibrations emanating from the anchor rope behind him. The only way to access the meditation pads was to walk down the anchor rope to the master pad, then make for a student pad from there. The master customarily arrived last, allowing the students to take their pads before the session began. Only one monk at Henkō Sanctum had the audacity to take a position after the master was already seated.

Torus smiled. Mxieayrah apparently believed her dexterity had reached the point of rendering her undetectable as she walked the tightrope from the bridge to his pad. Without seeing her, he could tell she was planning her next feat of acrobatics. Like a cat planning a leap from a table to a shelf full of fragile dinnerware.

Torus considered seeing what the young master was planning, but decided to take mercy. He initiated his movement to the next pose in the day’s routine, a simple lotus position to allow the novices a chance to rest. His movement was transmitted to his students via the water, who reacted slowly to the premature change. They, too, began the move from the crane to the lotus. As they were distracted by their own movements, Master Torus instead stood and left his pad entirely, walking silently across the water itself to the student pad he had originally left empty for Master Mxieayrah. He then boarded the pad, about-faced, and took his new seat.

He opened his eyes, the temptation too great. His desire for indulgence was rewarded with the sight of Master Mxieayrah glowering at him from her lotus position on the master pad, unimpressed with this humiliation. Torus grinned at his student and old friend. Mxieayrah’s simmering glare turned from her master to her de facto students.

The monk behind Torus detected his presence, and allowed her eyes to flutter open to see who had come to occupy the empty pad. Confusion overtook her as her eyes flitted to Mxieayrah. This monk’s confusion was likewise detected by her peers, and one by one, every monk’s eyes opened to discover Master Mxieayrah had taken over the session. Only Master Torus, however, was aware that Mxieayrah did not know the new meditative yoga routine, which had changed a week prior. His grin widened.

“Well that was certainly an invigorating session. This generation of novices are coming along well, wouldn’t you agree?”

Master Torus and Mxieayrah strolled along the railing of the Sanctum Bridge.

“You’re really going to make me indulge in your small talk, old man?” Mxieayrah groaned.

“God, no,” He laughed.

The pair of masters arrived at a section of the bridge marked with a blue flag posted on the rail, which billowed lazily in the wind.

Master Torus said, “I booked us a circular platform.”

“So you plan to fight fair, then?”

He laughed. “How I’ve missed you, Mxieayrah.”

Mxieayrah mounted the railing and stepped onto the rope that, much like the meditation platforms, allowed access to the waterborne facility below. Master Torus followed as she deftly descended the tightrope to a wooden post whose top protruded from the surface. Tied off and floating fifteen feet downriver was a circular wooden pad, similar in construction to the meditation pads, but twenty feet across rather than five.

Each monk took a position across from the other and five feet away from the pad’s edge. The line they formed ran perpendicular to the current, so one monk did not have a positional advantage over the other due to how the water interacts with the anchored platform.

Mxieayrah selected a defensive stance. Master Torus hid his smile and did the same.

So they stood for twenty-three minutes.

At last, Mxieayrah groaned and shifted to a more offensive stance.

“Point goes to Torus,” the old master said.

“I would say you don’t get a point for being stubborn but then you’ll just tell me that it’s patience, not stubbornness.”

As she approached the end of her sentence, she began to observe Torus very carefully. She watched and waited for him to take a small breath with which to reply.

“Perhaps stubbornness—”

He never got to finish. Mxieayrah made her move and lashed out with a strike not meant to harm, but to place Torus on the defensive. Her master turtled to block the blow and stepped backward, a move that Mxieayrah anticipated. She reversed course and moved backward, placing all of her weight on her back foot, sending the platform tilting in her direction. Master Torus was expecting Mxieayrah to continue her assault, and was therefore prepared for the platform to tilt a different way. Now off balance, Torus stumbled, and he was forced to make an awkward step with his front foot to stay upright.

The two masters knew each other’s skills well enough to know that the stumble would have granted Mxieayrah a decisive victory had she continued the fight.

“Point Mxieayrah,” she sighed, indulging in pride.

Master Torus took his original position. “You have made great strides in tempering your aggression.”

“About time someone noticed,” she said.

“The whole point of self control is not being noticed.”

“I know. It sucks.”

Master Torus made the first move this time. He opened with a risky front-snap kick that he knew would leave him exposed. The real strategy, then, was whether to expect Mxieayrah to take advantage of the supposed weakness, or knowing that she was too smart for that.

This bout lasted considerably longer than the first, with the monks actually trading blows, blocking one another’s jabs and kicks while jockeying for position on the teetering platform. Water splashed up over the edges whenever the combatants took their fight too close to the edge.

Advantage Mxieayrah.

Torus retook his position. “I’d like your thoughts on an important matter, Master Mxieayrah,” he said.

“*Master* Mxieayrah?” She raised her eyebrow. “Am I finally to be trusted with these sorts of things?”

Torus sighed. “It was always my intention for you to sit amongst the leaders of Henkō Sanctum.”

“So you always say.”

“My desire to seek your counsel should come as no surprise then.”

She rolled her eyes. Mxieayrah snapped into an arcane gesture, gathering her Ki energy and matching it with the flow of the waters below. With a tap of her back heel, the water bucked like a wronged horse and sent Master Torus forward. The old man gracefully regained his balance and allowed his momentum to carry him toward his apprentice, anticipating the myriad follow up moves she would attempt.

With the rules of engagement so suddenly changed, Master Torus brought his own elemental disciplines to bear throughout the ensuing melee. The monks took turns shaping the river, matching blows of the fist with strikes from below in an attempt to gain the advantage.

Torus suddenly found himself without his feet beneath him. He stumbled forward and almost fell headlong into the water, but Mxieayrah caught him by the wrist. The platform nearly capsized due to the unbalanced weight of its passengers, but Mxieayrah found equilibrium, leaning at an extreme angle and bringing Torus, herself, and platform all to a standstill, with her master’s face mere inches from the now-tranquil surface.

“The other masters look at me with such disdain, master. You’d need many different kinds of blindness not to see it. And yet, I’ve only ever done exactly as you’ve taught. I’ve always respected your unconventional methods, even considered it a privilege to practice them.

Mxieayrah and Torus slowly returned the platform to its natural resting position; she released his wrist.

“You think I’ve taught you to your own detriment. That I’ve failed you, and now you suffer the silent criticism of the other masters.” he stated.

“What would you have me believe?” she asked as she reentered her fighting stance.

“I’ve taught you in the manner that most benefits you, the Henkō way, and the world.” he assured her.

Her brow furrowed. “If that is so, you must not have foreseen my hasty departure from the Sanctum.”

“You’ve redeemed yourself since.”

“So you are absolved?”

“At great risk of sounding parental, I ask you to broaden your perspective for a moment.”

Mxieayrah lashed out.

Torus’s eyes widened as he witnessed her attack. He moved quickly to defend himself. Despite his efforts, he was losing ground from her very first move.

Again, the monks invited the river to participate in their duel. The platform rocked to and fro, spun, swayed, and nearly lifted off the surface on more than one occasion. Torus found himself on the defensive for the duration of the bout.

“Mxieayrah–” Torus breathed.

Her assault continued. The monks locked eyes. Master Torus was out of breath, sweat glistened on his brow. Her face was stoic, completely at rest. Her strikes were not deadly, nor would they injure him if he allowed one to land. Her intent was not to harm. She was simply tiring the old man out.

“Enough–” he scolded. He silently cursed himself for raising his voice. If he had used a more pitiful tone, she might have relented. Now, he all but guaranteed she would not show mercy.

Mxieayrah saw an opening and took it. With two fingers, she prodded a pressure point just below his ribcage. Like dipping her fingers into a stream, she could feel his Ki flowing within; she willed it to stop for just a moment.

Stunned, Master Torus collapsed and fell from the platform entirely. With a splash, he submerged and began floating downriver.

“Oh no,” she mumbled.

Mxieayrah dove into the water after her master.

Torus and Mxieayrah soaked up what remained of the sunlight, hoping it would dry their clothes before it dipped behind the mountains.

Torus leaned against a peach tree. Mxieayrah sat cross-legged at his side.

“I’m sorry, master.”

“You’ve never defeated me before. You’ve never seen me at my limit, so you did not know you were crossing it. The same happens to every apprentice, and to every master. It is a day to be celebrated, not rued.”

“We’ve had more intense sparring before.”

“I am only human, Mxieayrah. Even the healthiest and wisest of masters grow old.”

She clenched her fist and stared at the ground.

“What did you need to ask me about, master?”

He sighed. “A political matter. The Merchant Princes of Sea Haven demand that Sou-In send a quota of warriors to join the combined forces. The Serene and Steadfast councils agree that the monasteries are better suited to bear the burden than the commoners.”

“Monks in the army?” Mxieayrah wondered.

“Indeed. Naturally, the masters of the Mohai and Qudun monasteries are thrilled. But as you know, war is not the Henkō way.”

“What do the other masters think?”

“What do you think, Mxieayrah?

She stood and stretched. She turned, in part to face her master to whom she was speaking, but more importantly to face her damp behind toward the warming sun.

“Henkō monks are peaceful. We believe that, much like the river, a balance of pacifism and active adaptation is the purest way to change as the world does. Our martial arts are defensive. At least, they’re supposed to be, anyway.”

Master Torus chuckled.

“But it is also our obligation and duty to protect our people. If you do not send warriors from Henkō Sanctum, the Mohai and Qudun will happily send more of their warriors to pick up our slack and fulfill the quota. But then, Henkō Sanctum will have no representation in the combined forces, and no ability to affect what will become the most pivotal conflict this region has ever seen. Without us there with them, I worry the ideologies of the Mohai and Qudun monks will become twisted in the fog of war until they’ve forgotten who they are. We must be there because of our peaceful ambitions, not despite them. To use a Willowroot maxim, we need to keep a hand on the reins.”

Master Torus nodded.

“You feel the same?”

He nodded again.

“And the other masters do not,” she surmised.

“I will argue this point day and day out and I will not be heard. They will stand by their principles of pacifism to the very end. But this is not a case where pacifism is what is best for the world around us. If we were slaughtered for our principles, then we’d be martyrs. How lovely that would be. But we are in a safe region, here. If we do not participate in this historical conflict, then we will simply pass into obscurity and the world will move on without us.” Master Torus sat up straight, the stimulating discussion restoring his vitality.

Mxieayrah sat in front of him. “I will attend the next meeting. I will argue alongside you.”

Master Torus sighed. “I’m sorry, Mxieayrah. You know in your heart it would be futile. I am an outsider among the masters, and as you’ve pointed out just now, I’ve taught you to be an outsider as well. The two of us present will only make us seem like more of a minority.”

Mxieayrah furrowed her brow, “It’s a lost cause, then? The Mohai and Qudun will fight for Sou-In, possibly losing their spiritual identities in the process, while the Henkō sit on the sidelines?

Master Torus raised his head, his eyes meeting those of his student. “Not so. Yes, the Mohai and Qudun will have dozens more representatives in the combined forces of Sea Haven. But the Henkō will still be represented in the conflict.”

He smiled at Mxieayrah. She could not help but smile as well. She could feel him swelling with pride.

“But I just got back,” she quietly complained.

“The war is necessary, I’m afraid, but hopefully, with your involvement, it will be a short one. When the Hells boil up from below and our little world descends into the horror of war, you will be there to represent Sou-In, and the Henkō way of life.”

“And you. I’ll be representing you, too.”

He smirked, “If you have time left over, yes, you can represent me as well. I think I’ve earned it.”