Identity, by Muphrid. A tribe of Chinese sorcerers captures Ranma to purge emotions from the hearts of men. A continuation story, set after the end of the manga.
What's going on here? With the Phoenix in control of a number of Sorcerers, the countdown to the next Guard offensive is critical: can Keema's spies dismantle the Sorcerers for good, or will they break through the line and forge their way to Saffron?
Converging Points of Compass Rose
Chapter Six, Act Five
Among the sparse trees and rough terrain of the Tibetan Plateau, the Sorcerer Guard buried their dead. The tents in tatters they cut and reused, but without doubt, their numbers were thinner than before. Yet more troublesome than the damage or the wounded, the dead, were the whispers that passed between the survivors' lips and ears.
"She flew like we do," said one of them. "She wields ice like we do. How long do you think it'll be before she can light the forest in flames? Before she closes her eyes and knows where we stand?"
"She is flesh and bone and blood," said a voice, "and she can be killed like any outsider. She may imitate our magic, but that doesn't make her unique or special. Anyone can attune themselves to the flows of ki. You know that. Don't forget."
The pair of gossiping Sorcerers bowed and nodded in respect. "Yes, captain!"
"Resume your duties," said Kohl, brushing a strand of long, reddish-brown hair from his feminine face. "And speak no more of this."
The men pounded their staves on the rock in agreement, yet the sound of metal staff tips on stone inspired Kohl with no confidence. The disquiet in their souls sapped their strength. He knew this, for he felt that concern as well.
Saotome Ranma, the outsider, the one who turned their magic against them. What he said was true—anyone can learn the ki magic, but to fly and fight as she did, with the grace of the egret, the power of the diving hawk? Kohl had presided over many a lesson in flight for his men. They fluttered like chicks and splashed in the river. Even Kohl himself had endured a dunking in his time, and it took weeks of practice and meditation to make the journey from the tower waterfall to the outskirts of the Lady's domain.
No one, particularly an outsider, could make such a controlled flight after a few days' learning.
"She does seem exceptional somehow," said Tilaka, surveying the damage. "Doesn't she?"
Ranma could be exceptional all she liked—after Saffron was theirs, after the Sieve had been replaced. But these people, these Phoenix, Riverfolk, strangers from faraway lands—they resisted. They fought back. They never had the sense to turn and run away. Even as they beat a retreat across the open Plateau, their arrows rained from above. They defended every inch of soil they could. They buried his men under tons of rock, and why? Did they think they would win? Were they such fools to believe that?
No, they had no comprehension of the power they faced. If Kohl hadn't needed Saffron alive, he and his people would've leveled this mountain long ago and let all the Phoenix people within dissolve and melt like the putty they were.
Yet still they fought, and to destroy them so thoroughly, to risk Saffron's life, was unacceptable. That would be a waste and accomplish nothing.
"I could help," said Tilaka. "Let me feel their minds, and I'll put fear there. I'll put panic and madness into their souls. I can make them cut their own wings and jump to their deaths. Then there'll be no one to oppose us."
Yes, indeed, Kohl should use the power of the Sieve, of the eyes that peer into all men's souls. That power could sow into their hearts that insidious seed—a seed to grow and strangle them from within.
And let Tilaka be the one to plant it, to see into the darkness of the human heart once more, as she'd done for so long, and risk losing herself to the void once again.
Kohl looked to the top of the mountain, where swirling winds slowed to a stable eye. No, Tilaka. I won't have you drink from that poisonous cup again. Never again, if I can help it. His gaze sharpened.
"Kohl?"
"Spread the word," said the Captain of the Guard. "We will attack. I know exactly how."
"Don't be hasty. I sense something in our brothers and sisters. Something I've never felt before."
"It is only fear, a fear our boldness will erase. Understand that. Believe it yourself, so they'll believe it, too."
Tilaka bowed her head. "Then I will rally the men."
Thus news of Kohl's plan filtered through the remains of the camp, yet the captain and advisor himself remained wary—of Tilaka, who contemplated the use of her great power when it was he who should shelter her; of Ranma, whose control of magic might well have rivaled his own…
But most of all, Kohl was wary of whispers, for even as the men gathered to hear of his attack plans, he heard their rumblings in low and guarded voices.
#
"Over the centuries, my people have used the eggs to defend themselves. We captured our enemies to make them spies and informants to Lord Saffron's cause. We did the same with Shampoo, for much the same reasons."
"Shampoo still owe you much pain for that," said a voice.
With an amused glare, Keema crossed her legs, adjusting her position on the impromptu throne. The seven of the Nerima party stood before the Phoenix captain in her makeshift war room, replete with the chair from the deluged court above. At Keema's word, the court officers had filed out. Aside from the captain herself, only Masala and Korma—the latter wearing bandages over his eyes—remained.
"This time," Keema went on, "we had a Sorcerer under our control, one who said his people knew not of our eggs or their power. After our first engagements went so poorly, I conceived the plan—a plan that could dismantle the enemy force from within and save hundreds of lives."
"I fail to see what that has to do with Tendō," said Cologne. "Or us."
"Indeed. Well, if you must know…" Keema grinned. "Tendō was my experiment."
" 'Experiment?' " echoed Akane. "For what?"
"The problem with a spy is that he can be caught and interrogated," said Keema. "He may divulge something of value to the other side. But an agent who knows not the betrayal he commits is flawless, undetectable—or, I should say, if he is found out, he himself will be as baffled as an innocent man. One Sorcerer under my control wasn't enough. Nor was a dozen. We aimed to take as many minds as we could until their actions could no longer remain hidden. Then, and only then, would they execute my supreme order and strike down their former comrades."
"And for this you needed Akane-san?" said Ryōga. "Why?"
"To see if someone could pass for normal among others who weren't under my control." Keema looked to Akane. "And she did, for a time. It seems Tendō is somewhat resistant to the egg's effects. Perhaps because she knew of it and could suspect she was conditioned; alas, who can say. Regardless, she deceived you all for quite some time. She's been under my control, in one way or another, since the Sorcerers' initial attack, and until yesterday, you never suspected, did you?"
"Tendō is far from a Sorcerer," said Cologne. "They can sense things in their comrades. They'll know."
Keema laughed. "Ah, but they don't. As we speak, they plan another incursion into this mountain, an attack from above, and we will be waiting for them. Our agents in their force will turn on them the moment they land at the summit, and we will destroy them in the counterattack."
Cologne eyes narrowed. "So it is, then. It seems we'll have Sorcerers to fight after all."
"I will join you all at the summit?"
"Hah! Not if you think we'd forget something."
Keema raised an eyebrow.
"Your experiment is over, whatever its purposes. Release Tendō now, or our cooperation is as fleeting as a leaf on the wind."
"Of course. With naught but a word, her mind is free and her own."
"A word will not suffice. Produce an egg. I have a mirror handy."
"I anticipated as much. So be it." She motioned to Masala. "Please, give our guests what they desire. It seems they'll be satisfied with nothing less."
Masala descended the steps, offering an egg in his open hands. Cologne snatched it from him, her grip harsh and unwavering, and looked to Akane.
"Are you ready?"
Akane raised a hand to rebuff her. "Not yet. I have a question…" Her gaze fixed on the throne. "For Keema."
"I am at your disposal."
She stepped forward, eyes locked on the Phoenix captain as she approached the base of the platform.
"Why me?" she asked. "Why did I have to be the one for your experiment? Why me and no one else?"
With her sickening grin, Keema rose from her seat, meeting Akane on the bottom step.
"Because you asked me to."
"I did not!"
"You begged me to. It was your wish to do something useful when your own strength and spirit weren't enough. It's true I wanted a test subject, and you threw yourself into my lap. All this was your idea."
My idea?
"So take solace, Tendō Akane—with your help, the Sorcerers will fall, and your beloved can be saved. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
Akane stared, open-mouthed, her expression wavering.
"Enough talk," said Cologne. "Are you ready?"
A weak nod.
"So be it." A light throw, and the egg hurtled toward her. It broke open, catching her in its binding threads. Torches and stone disappeared. There was only darkness, only black.
So when I couldn't do enough with my body, I gave up my mind, my soul, for Ranma?
More than one had she offered her life for him—for his safety, for his strength, yet those sacrifices never troubled her. They were noble. They were the right thing to do at the time. Indeed, given the choice to endure slavery a bit longer, with the promise of the Sorcerers' defeat, maybe she'd do it again.
But if it makes so much sense, why am I surprised?
The darkness swirled around her. Her mind went clear and blank. A single crack penetrated the lightless interior of the egg. The light hit Akane, triggering a simple instinct.
'Up.'
She rose, and the shell of the egg broke away. The lights of this place she knew, she recognized: burning torches hung on the walls. Firelight flickered on stone floor.
"The mirror!" A voice spoke to her, but whoever it was, he shielded himself and her with his hands. "Akane-san, look at the mirror!"
Mirror? Where's—
A flickering glare caught her eye. She turned her head, and a girl's reflection looked back at her: skin creamy, even, and youthful. Dark bangs curled over her eyes—eyes of a deep and natural brown.
'Someone who says you're not cute is a liar,' she imagined someone saying to her. 'Me included.'
Akane smiled softly to herself, and her eyes searched the room for her companions. "I'm free now?"
"You sound uncertain," said Cologne.
She touched a hand to her cheek and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "To tell the truth, I don't feel very different."
"All it takes is a kernel of insight into yourself to see if your master is yourself or someone else," said Keema. "Perhaps you recall what I spoke of now?"
Akane blinked. A tumult of images bubbled to the surface of her thoughts. "You're right. I remember now. You were going to free me, Keema, but I asked you if there were anything else I could do, even if it meant being a slave for a little longer." She looked to the ceiling. "We were upstairs, outside, where this throne should be. You said—"
"That you'd done enough, in sparing my man, in proving through interrogation that your motives were pure." Keema pressed her lips together. "Ranma may have set the Sorcerers against us, but I, at least, can appreciate how you all are here now to fight the Sorcerers."
"My, have we had some change of heart?" said Cologne.
Keema's glare was sharp and immediate. "Not to you. I've probed your mind, Cologne—I know what fuels your desire to fight. That battle isn't ours, and all I will do is wish you well when the Sorcerers are gone from this mountain, as I expect you and your people to be when the fight is done." She cleared her throat. "Be all that as it may, I like to think I can appreciate how different motives have brought all of you together to fight with us, yes? And if we grow weary of each other, then no better way I can think of to remedy that than to destroy the Sorcerers when they come to the summit."
"I suppose," muttered Cologne, "we can all appreciate that goal."
"Good. Are we satisfied, then?"
"For the moment." Cologne waved to her comrades, signalling them to follow. "Come; if the Sorcerers mean to attack, we should make ourselves ready."
"Ah, Tendō?"
As the group filed out, Keema caught Akane at the edge of the doorway. This time, Korma was the one to come bearing gifts, presenting her a covered basket. "Let us call this a reward," said Keema. "For your sacrifice. I do not know I'd have had the strength to do it." On seeing the group's curious gazes, she elaborated. "It's food," she explained. "A special treat to partake of before decisive battle. I hope you'll all enjoy it for supper tonight."
"Oh." Akane gripped the handle with a puzzled look. "Thank you."
The doors to the war room ground against their hinges and shut.
"Shampoo no like 'special treats.' " The young Amazon limped on her bad leg and gave a huff. "That Keema much much creepy when acting kind."
"I do admit," said Akane, unfolding the cloth to that covered the basket. "She does seem a bit full of surprises to—"
She peeled back the last piece of cloth and stared.
At a set of six pristine bird eggs.
"Well, Akane-chan?"
She covered up quickly. "Huh?"
"What's in the basket?" asked Ukyō, her sights fixed ahead. "Have you looked yet?"
Akane walked on beside her, letting the basket drop to her side.
"No," said Akane. "Not yet."
#
"Still no word from the old bat, huh?"
"That's an unusual choice of words for a former Elder of the tribe."
"Call it a habit."
In cramped quarters, Elder Surma and Ranma huddled by the light of a torch. They hunched beneath a low ceiling and covered their ears—
TA-PAM!
The earth shook; pebbles sprayed their feet. Up ahead, a team of diggers blasted at rock with just the points of their index fingers, and as they surged forward, a line of warriors followed, ferrying larger pieces of rubble back to the surface.
"I could get you some hot water," said Surma. "It would be no trouble."
"For what? To last until we go back into the elements and face the downpour? No thanks. I may not like being a girl, but I like being wet even less. I'll manage."
"Teacher said you were like this."
"Did she now."
"Stubborn was the word she used."
"I'll give her that."
"Irascible, even."
"Is that right." He smirked. "I might have to show that old bat what irascible really means the next time I see her." He straightened his back—
Thud. And bonked his head on the tunnel ceiling.
"Well," he said, rubbing the bump, "when this is all over anyway. Still no word from her?"
"It's possible they ran out of fuel for the generator. That would be the simple explanation."
Trust me, Ranma thought to himself. Nothing's simple with these guys.
In the hours since Ranma attacked the Sorcerer camp, the Guard had returned to shore up their numbers. Surma, wary of waging a full-on assault in the open, opted for the safer route instead: to carve a way into the mountain from below, avoiding the heavy rain and whipping winds. That was fine for Ranma—he still had a stinging cut on his arm that he could stand to let heal for a while—but night gave way to day again with the tunnel as yet incomplete. He could hardly accuse Surma of taking the slow way about things, of course, for she cared as much about making good time as he did, but all the same, the waiting gnawed at him.
I'd think it'd gnaw at anybody. You got people coming to save you, and now they're the ones in a jam, surrounded on all sides, with no escape. Anyone who gives less than his best for that is a bastard, and that's all there is to it.
"Elder!" said a voice. "We've broken through!"
"Very good! Warriors, draw your weapons! We go into unknown territory."
With a raucous shout, the Amazons unsheathed swords and pulled arrows from their quivers.
"Best to be cautious, huh?" said Ranma.
"You did say the Phoenix betrayed you to the Sorcerers. It seems prudent to expect something less than a warm welcome."
Ranma's expression soured. "Yeah, that's true."
Into the breach the Amazon warriors entered, pulling one another through the hole in the tunnel ceiling, but what they found at the base of the mountain was neither Keema's minions to accost them nor Sorcerers to do battle with. Where flooding waters overflowed the grand stair, Surma's Amazons found darkness, the gushing rain…
And the soaked, grimy bodies of the barely-living among the corpses of the dead.
"Stay your arms!" said Surma, showing her open hands to the refugees. "The Tribe of Women Heroes comes to your aid! We mean you no harm!"
Slowly, the stranded Phoenix people crept from the shadows. Some were wingless, drenched from head to toe. Others bore fingernails blackened from mud and rock—they'd dug with their bare hands, so they said, to get through the collapse that trapped them below, but it proved of no use. They drank from rainwater, but no doubt it made some of them sick. They pulled their wounded from the shattered tunnels, but where some still hobbled on sprained ankles or broken legs, others had already succumbed—to the cold, to hunger, to infection and death.
"Hey, hey, it's okay." Ranma crouched before a mother and daughter, offering a piece of cracker from his pocket. "Come on, take it. It's…" He made a face. "It's not that bad. Trust me."
The little girl, a toddler at best, broke off a piece for herself and nibbled on a corner. Ranma offered the rest to the mother, who nodded in gratitude—a gesture that, though words failed them, both could understand.
"We don't have a lot," said Ranma, more to himself than either of them. "But more will come; I promise. There's a whole village out there that can help. They'll bring a caravan or something. Akane'll come—" He caught himself, making a face. "Well, somebody will."
Somebody would, but when? The math was simple on that question: days, at least. Days to reach the Amazon village again, days for relief to be gathered and make the return trip. That piece of cracker the Amazons gave to him, but how much more did they have left?
Not enough. Of that much, he was certain. Not enough to feed everyone they came across, to keep alive all these victims of the Sorcerers' aggression…
And his own need to survive.
No, no, no. This ain't my fault. Those Sorcerers—they're the ones doing this. They already knew about Saffron. None of this has to do with me. Not one bit. Every step of the way I tried to sabotage them. Everything they thought they knew about the Phoenix was wrong. I did my part to make them fail.
He looked to the base of the staircase, where sheets of rain lapped at the bottom step.
What else could I do, Akane?
A small party secured the tunnel exit, leaving Ranma and Surma to climb the grand stair. Thousands of steps passed under their feet. They delved into the heart of humanity, of countless souls left abandoned by Keema, for the sake of the rest above the blast line—of those whom tons of rock sheltered and kept safe. These were the rocks, the boulders, that stymied the Sorcerers.
"Look alive!"
TA-PAM!
And as fingertips shattered stone, it seemed that Keema's barrier had thwarted the Amazons, too. A half-dozen men, under Surma's watchful eye, blasted the cave-in with the Breaking Point technique, but where rock broke and cracked, more fell into place. The brave Amazons only succeeded in sending pebbles down the stair and coating themselves in a thin layer of gravel, of dust.
"Come on, then," said Surma, pulling her men back. "We'll have no luck here."
"Why not?" Ranma demanded. "Why can't you keep trying?"
"The force doesn't leap across air, child. The Breaking Point requires rock as solid as possible, the denser the better. That is why it fails to harm flesh. Compared to a boulder, you and I are little more than bags of meat and water." Surma shook her head, pensive. "Perhaps another route will give us more luck, but we may have to scale the mountain on the outside and risk being blown away like feathers from an eagle's wing."
"I wouldn't count on it. You didn't try getting here on foot. It felt like the wind would tear my face off."
"Believe me, I share your concern, but even when I spoke to Cologne last, it sounded as if the siege progressed far more poorly than either of us could've foreseen. I'm not shy to admit it: I'm fearful, child. Fearful for my teacher, for the two of my countrymen who went with her, and for the four of yours who did the same."
Fear Ranma understood. On this mountain, in the rain and wind, was the last place anyone should feel safe, but for Ukyō's sake, for Ryōga, for Konatsu…
"Wait, four?" said Ranma. "So my pop went along after all?"
"The panda man?" Surma laughed. "No, he seemed quite content scouring the woods of our village for bamboo. Why?" She frowned. "Who did you think stayed behind?"
A chill ran down the back of his neck. His gaze turned unfocused and distant.
"No one," he said. "Can't imagine why I thought that."
He wandered through the dark to an outcropping, a little ledge on the face of the mountain exposed to wind and rain. Perhaps, in different times, the Phoenix used these holes in the wall to fly up and down the mountain, but Ranma didn't care. The stone was wet and cold; he bathed in the deluge, and the oppressive rain weighed on him, vicious and unrelenting.
You stupid bitch.
He wiped his eyes and turned his head down, pressing his palms to his forehead.
This was nothing you had to get involved in. I told you that; you heard me, but you didn't listen! You think you'll make all the difference—is that it? You're not superhuman!
He fingered the bandage below his left shoulder.
They did this to me; what do you think they'll do to you? You didn't even consider that, did you.
He shut his eyes, shaking his head.
You just knew you had to come…because I was here.
The runoff surged over the step, soaking through his shoes.
And the only reason I'm here…
He stepped further, into the wind. The water dripped over his face, seeped through his shirt. The fabric clung to his body—it made folds around his ankles; it went tight about his hips.
It hugged his immaculate breasts.
…is this.
He unbuttoned his shirt at the collar, revealing to the elements the soft, sensual flesh. He felt for the nipple and cupped his hand around breast to hold its weight.
And he squeezed.
His hands, which could crush steel in their grip, took that piece of flesh, that thing which shouldn't belong to him, and squeezed. He squeezed it to hurt. He squeezed so his fingerprints would be etched in the bruises he left behind. He squeezed and squeezed until the rushing downpour itself robbed him of firm grip, and the lump of fatty tissue squirted loose.
He bit down on his lip; he shut his eyes tightly. He buttoned his collar and clenched his fists, his breathing hard and deep and steady.
Even for her, he couldn't tear off that piece of himself.
But guy or girl, I can still save you.
He stepped to the precipice. What interested him wasn't out there, back the way he came, but up the mountain, to a house embedded in the sheer face, and like a gymnast on the balance beam, he spread his arms and leapt!
THUNK! He stuck a landing on the apex, but his sights were set ever higher. Maybe he couldn't fly freely against this sorcerous wind, but a touch of magic steadied him, buffered him, against its unpredictable tugs. From roofs to ledges and back again, Ranma jumped and jumped up the mountain, for not even this typhoon would deter him or erode his resolve.
Wherever you are, I'll always save you.
#
"You're certain?"
Under the glow of a skylight, the Phoenix captain crouched to hear her aide's remarks. Though light was muted in the stormy murk, something was visible through the ceiling window and sheets of rain:
The rim of the peak, where the Phoenix's cursed spring welled to its utmost height.
"You're absolutely certain?" said Keema.
Mousse tapped his foot. "Hello? Captain Keema? I thought we were moving to the summit, not standing around sounding like a fool."
Through the last winding tunnels, the Phoenix forces marched on the peak, where, if their Sorcerer informants should be believed, the Guard would mount their offensive.
Yet for some precious minutes, Keema and her aides dallied in this house near the summit, spurring the Nerima party to wait as well.
"Forgive me," said Keema, sending her aide away. "Cologne, may I have a moment?"
The Amazon matriarch sighed. "What is it now?"
Keema walked her to a corner of the room, out of earshot from the others. "I'm told our friend Saotome Ranma has arrived after all. Some scouts have spotted him scaling the mountain from the base."
"Indeed? So Son-in-law isn't completely tardy. The more of us the better."
"You said he'd learned some Sorcerer techniques? I should think he'd be useful here, if we can bring him up in time."
"Have your men send word he should make haste."
"I was thinking he could stand an escort."
"Oh? For what?"
"Against any unexpected mishap. Two or three men spared from here will make little difference, but more Sorcerer magic to wield against them could become a decisive edge."
Cologne frowned. "If you say so…"
"I do. Perhaps you could take one or two of your best and meet him in person?"
"Indeed, just what I want to do: traipse about this mountain as a glorified bodyguard." She called over her shoulder. "Mousse!"
"Yes, Old Mushroom?"
THWACK!
"Show some discipline with your tongue," said Cologne, "and be silent as you follow me. Shampoo! You too."
"Where we go?"
"Down the mountain."
"But…Shampoo leg too weak to do more walking."
THWACK!
"For that, I expect you to run the first third of the way down. You were fine this morning and fine on the way up; with your mother's blood in you, two full days should be plenty to recover. Come!"
Shampoo quickened her step, following Cologne's lead.
"You thought I was insincere? Run! You too, Mousse!"
They dashed from the room, with Cologne cackling as she followed them out.
"Well," said Keema, "shall we continue up?"
"What was that about?" asked Akane.
"Just a minor issue to see to below. Nothing to worry over."
She looked to the skylight and the rim of the mountain beyond.
"What comes from above is our only concern now."
#
What came from above were dozens of Sorcerers, soaring over the clouds—clouds that obscured only the mountain and not the trees or the plains around. It was a bizarre juxtaposition of chaotic destruction and serene beauty, for though the Plateau was harsh and inhospitable, it was also the picture of Earth's majesty and beauty, from the imposing mountains to winding rivers. Kohl took in this landscape, for it was largely foreign to him. When his mission was done, odds were he'd never glimpse it again.
"Something to remember, isn't it."
Like a plane whose wings suddenly stalled, Kohl's body lurched in the sky. "Tilaka?"
The Sieve soared beside the captain, rolling calmly in the breeze. "I've missed flying. It always helped me relax."
"Get back to the camp! A fall from this height would kill you!"
Tilaka narrowed her eyes. "I may have been Sieve for years, but I still remember how to fly." She brought forth a small panel of ice from her hand. "And to defend myself."
"We go into battle now; the Sieve cannot be here!"
"Unless she chooses to be." Tilaka sped out and circled to face him. "Please. You watched over me for all those years. Let me return the favor and watch over you and your men, this one time."
"It means so much to you?"
"It does."
Kohl sighed and snatched Tilaka by the wrist. "You stay with me, behind cover, and if there is something small you can do for a tactical advantage, you may carefully—"
"I'll be cautious," said Tilaka. "I promise."
Kohl loosened his grip, letting Tilaka's hand slip free. "All right!" he called to his men. "Open the eye!"
In the center of the maelstrom, the swirling storm below, a hole formed. For the first time in days, the light of the sun reached Mount Phoenix unobstructed, and the waters of the cursed spring shimmered in clear skies.
Into this still column of air the Sorcerers descended. The top of the mountain was a narrow but flat ring, dominated by the waters of the spring. Though there was precious little room to stand on, the Sorcerers floated easily to the high perch.
"Find the path to the interior!" said Kohl. "We should overwhelm them before they can mount a defense!"
Tilaka smiled. "All goes according to the captain's plan?"
So it seemed, didn't it, yet Kohl's eyes were sharp and alive. As soon as the rain stopped, he expected some resistance to meet them. The Phoenix should fly out and engage the Sorcerers, use their wings that have been folded for so long, yet none of the bird-men soared above. Kohl closed his eyes, listening, feeling the flows. Yes, what he didn't see, the eddies of ki told him plainly. There was energy here; there was presence.
"Ach!"
There was, not four paces in front of him, a Sorcerer with a spike of ice in his back, for another Sorcerer had driven it through his chest.
#
"Yikes!"
Ranma clung to the rooftop of an abandoned home as a ten-ton boulder tumbled past.
"Geez, where did that come from?"
But the view above him was inscrutable; rain cut at his eyes, blinding him. He set his sights lower—from one house or staircase or even simple ledge to the next.
Come on, don't tell me they're fighting right now. They can't be invading this very second…
The winds pulled and tugged at him; it was like riding a roller-coaster blindfolded, never knowing whether the next turn was a left, a right, or a gut-churning loop.
Don't you go in there and try to fight them; don't you dare—
"Urk!"
He slammed, head first, into the rock face, and clawed wildly for some sort of handhold.
Right, don't think about that. Happy thoughts. He pulled himself up and shoved off, floating to an exterior staircase above. Come on, Wendy, let's just think happy thoughts!
A wave of hail sprayed battered his head, his shoulders. He lunged for the edge and, with a single hand gripping the slick stair, swung himself over to land on his stomach, straddling the steps.
I dare anyone to think happy thoughts in this!
"Son-in-law!"
He rolled over, blinking, and gazed up the stair. At the top, sure enough, stood Cologne, who sheltered herself as best she could with her walking stick.
"You've made it far enough!" she yelled over the storm. "The path from here is open! Come inside!"
She needn't tell him twice. He trudged up the steps and, as he crossed the threshold to the tunnels within, promptly collapsed against the interior wall.
"Oh thank gods," he said, cradling his head. "I thought I'd die of cold before I found a path that wasn't blocked."
But his rest was short-lived. A hand yanked him by the collar, and a pair of fogged-up glasses were there to greet him. "What the hell are you doing, Saotome? The Sorcerers come to attack, and you want to sit here panting like a dog?"
"It's better than flapping around like a duck."
"Why you—"
WHAM! An elbow to the ribs cut off Mousse's retort.
"Shampoo…why?"
"You attack Shampoo airen, you attack Shampoo, too!" She pried Mousse's hand from Ranma's collar and promptly wrapped her arms around his neck instead. "Oh, Airen!"
"Oi, oi, I thought I heard something about a battle?"
Cologne's walking stick bonked Shampoo on the head, freeing Ranma from her grasp. "Keema's set an ambush for the Sorcerers at the summit. The others are there now."
"The others? So Ryōga and Konatsu and Ukyō?"
"My, if you forgot Tendō, perhaps there's some hope for you yet."
Ranma made a fist. "Nah, I didn't forget. I was just hoping she wasn't so dumb to actually come here. Damn that girl!" He dashed off through the tunnels, not caring if there were torch of lamp to light the way.
"Ah, Son-in-law?" said Cologne, her voice echoing after him.
"What?"
"The summit is this way?"
His feet skidded on wet rock. "Oh." He blinked. "Maybe you guys should lead."
"Follow Shampoo," said Cologne as he circled back. "Mousse and I will bring up the rear, just in case the Sorcerers have aims on this section of the mountain, too."
Ranma fell into step behind the younger Amazon. "All right, but we've got to wrap this up fast. Keema and her goons gave me up to the Sorcerers; you have to bet when this is done they'll turn on all of us!" He frowned. "Wait, how did you guys know I was down here?"
"Phoenix scouts spot you," said Shampoo. "She send us down as escort."
"Escort, huh?" He scratched his temple idly. Why would Keema, who betrayed him before, so willingly send his friends down for protection? Did she finally realize the dire state of the battle she was fighting? Had the siege turned out so poorly, as Surma said?
No, regardless of that, Keema would never send friends of his down alone. They'd have backup—the watchful eyes of other Phoenix-kind or perhaps Keema herself.
"You said they're fighting right now?"
"I heard sounds of battle as we descended, but we thought it best to make sure you made it to the top," said Cologne. "It seemed Keema wanted your expertise with their magic as soon as possible but had no one else to spare."
Ranma shook his head. Even to say they were all busy with the ambush, that made no sense either. If Keema truly thought him important to winning, shouldn't she have waited for him? Could she?
Even if she couldn't, the other possibility was more likely—that the reason she sent only three of them, only three of his friends, was that they had his trust; was that, in her mind, he might lower his guard against them, not even suspect—
He spun in stride; he raised a shell of ice on both sides!
And from Cologne's outstretched fingers to Ranma's shell, a surikomi egg smashed harmlessly on the frost.
#
While Ranma tangled with his friends and allies, the enemy of both Amazon and Phoenix alike writhed in the jaws of a mousetrap sprung. Dozens of Phoenix archers soared over the summit, pelting the black tunics with a hail of arrows, and from below, Keema led her army's charge on the ground, dashing up the mountain's winding path to the peak, but more effective than either of these measures were the betrayers in the Sorcerer ranks. Unaccustomed to defending against their own magic, fire and lightning cut down the loyalists, who took to barricading themselves in ice until their own magics ran out.
But not me.
The captain, Kohl, was one of the few who still dared fight in the open. Willing and able to kill his own kind, Kohl lashed out at the rocky rim of the mountain itself, collapsing the ground beneath his enemies' feet. When Phoenix-kind took wing against him, he boxed them into a cage of flame and slowly crushed them in fire. They could fly out if they wished, of course—if they were willing to fly like the namesake bird of their tribe and go down in ashes and burning pitch.
BAM-BAM-BAM!
But Kohl wasn't the only one who knew how to wield fire that day. A ball of flame streaked past his chin. It caught him on the shoulder and kicked him off the side.
No! I won't fall…so…easily!
The flows of ki caught him, though. Like a mother's gentle hands, they raised him back to the ring atop the mountain, behind the Sorcerer whose mind had been turned. And there, before his foe could spin or blink—
THWAP!
He drove an ice spike through the offender's gut. A painful thing to do for a captain, to a man he'd trained for months, but less painful than dying. Less painful than defeat.
"Kohl!"
He doubled over, clutching his shoulder. "Don't say that name!"
"I'm sorry!" Tilaka rushed to his side. "You're hurt, aren't you?"
"Stay down!" Kohl looked to the horizon. "I have to fly you out of here. I can't let these people take you!"
"Does it hurt?"
"That doesn't matter!"
"It does hurt," said Tilaka, touching the burnt cloth. "Doesn't it?"
"It's fine!"
"No." Tilaka met his gaze. "It's not."
Five paces off, a Sorcerer with his staff eyed the two of them. Lightning swirled at the metal tips of the stick. He took a step, at first uncertain, but he picked up speed as he ran.
"Tilaka, down!"
CHING! The staff bent and snapped, striking hard ice. Tilaka's hands held up the shield, defending both herself and the captain.
"If you dare strike Wuya, there's only one thing to do with you," said the Sieve. "You have to burn."
The Sorcerer stared at her, puzzled.
"Burn."
The staff dropped to the ground. The Sorcerer, eyes wide, slapped at his hands, but there was nothing for him to extinguish. He beat and swiped at his arms, but the specter of flame that haunted him refused to be put out. It spread to his chest, his legs, his feet. He danced atop the summit; he writhed on the ground. He hollered. He screamed. At last he spotted the water. He must've known what it would do to him. Why else would he resist it for so long? But temptation would be stayed no longer. He dove into the cursed spring atop Phoenix Mountain, yet his torment, like that of Tantalus, continued. A swan surfaced in the well of the spring that day, and it splashed and cried and flapped its wings to no avail. It drowned itself in the spring water, for from its torture, that was the only escape.
"Tilaka…what have you done?"
But the Sieve heard not the captain's question. Instead, she—for she thought herself woman even as she wore the body of a boy—she erased the ice shield that protected her and instead stood tall for the world to see her, to hear her.
"All of you, stop."
Though she spoke in open air, though she said the words softly, as a child might to a baby, the combatants heard Tilaka, whether five feet away or five hundred. Where there was fighting, the blows ceased. Where arrows met bowstring, the archers relaxed and let their aim droop. Sorcerer and Phoenix and outsider alike took heed of the Sieve's words, for she would say them only once.
"Burn."
Next: Forced to fight his friends once again, Ranma makes a narrow escape, delving deeper into the mountain to exact revenge on Keema, on Wuya, and whoever else would dare cross him. The fight for the Sieve and Ranma's vengeance continues in "The Battle of Phoenix Mountain" Part VI - "The Descent into Madness" - Coming February 4, 2011.
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