All-Knowing Novice, page 3
The sound of it hitting the ground snapped Taryn out of whatever spell he’d been under. While the patrolman was distracted by the Eco Beast, Taryn slipped around the corner of the building and quickly crossed the street. He hopped a wooden fence, then crouched down to catch his breath. His chest was hurting; he wasn’t sure if it was from how hard his heart was pounding or how long he’d been holding his breath. Regardless, all Taryn wanted to do was get out of there before the patrolman came after him.
Taryn ran across the small property as quickly and quietly as he could. He would stick to the back alleys for as long as he could. Hopefully, that would be enough to get him to the training field without running into any more patrolmen.
Taryn arrived at the training fields without another incident. The place looked deserted, which wasn’t unusual. The training fields were usually abandoned at night; however, it wasn’t uncommon for people to start arriving around dawn.
Feeling fairly confident no one would find him, Taryn rifled through his bag until he found his lantern; he’d taken to wrapping a white cloth around it to make situations like this easier on himself. He found it a moment later and carefully extricated it from his bag, along with a small pack of matches he’d “borrowed” from his grandmother twenty days ago.
She wouldn’t miss it.
He struck the match on his pants leg, igniting the match head almost instantly. The lantern came to life with a bright orange flame, which Taryn quickly hid behind the dark glass. The light now was little more than an orange glow. It illuminated an area of six feet around him but seemed to make the shadows beyond even darker, if that was possible.
Taryn searched the small forest bordering the Ukata training field for his journal’s cover, but even after Dawen began to sink below the horizon, he still hadn’t found it.
Both the Cai and the Qiao had forests like this in their training fields. It was these small patches of forest that helped conceal what the clans were doing. Taryn believed there were sound suppression scripts carved into the trunks of select trees inside the forest, as it was remarkably difficult to eavesdrop on conversations from within the forest. Hence the reason Taryn carried around a spyglass. It may have been difficult to hear what they were saying, but it was relatively easy to watch what they were doing.
Taryn wasn’t sure why the training fields weren’t better protected, but his running theory was that the clans just didn’t care if they were spied on. The Ukata clan techniques were infamously dangerous to practice if you weren’t a member of the clan—something about the Ukata having more durable bodies than the other clans. Taryn’s grandmother had once even claimed that should another clan attempt to replicate the Ukata techniques, their bodies would burst like an overfilled waterskin.
Several hours had come and gone with nothing to show for it. No matter where Taryn looked, he just couldn’t find the cover. And he’d looked everywhere: in the trees, beneath the bushes, buried under fallen leaves.
The only thing left to do was widen his search radius, but he was beginning to run out of time. Taryn could see Rala’s light appearing over the horizon, turning the sky from a dark bluish black to a mixture of reds, greens, and purples.
However, with Rala’s light came an entirely new perspective—literally.
As Taryn rounded a large tree trunk and began walking deeper into the forest to widen his search radius, the forest around him rapidly rushed upwards as the ground beneath his feet caved in, causing him to fall into a large pit.
Taryn screamed as he reached for anything to help stop his fall and found only open air. Luckily, he didn’t fall for very long.
The air was knocked from Taryn’s lungs the moment he reached the bottom of the pit, landing back first on the harsh stone floor. The fall had only lasted a second or two, yet Taryn had fallen more than a dozen feet.
Taryn fought to regain his breath; it took almost a full minute of painful gasping to do so. Almost as soon as he’d recovered his breath, Taryn noticed a throbbing pain at the back of his skull.
Touching it with his fingers, Taryn hissed in pain. He spotted blood on his fingertips and realized he must’ve struck his head on the floor when he fell. It was bad enough that his hood had become damp and heavy with his blood.
Even as he tried to make sense of where he was, Taryn’s vision swam from the pain and blood loss. However, something on the far side of the crater caught his eye: a leather-bound journal lay there.
Taryn couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear them so he could see if it was real or not.
It didn’t work. The pain and blood loss were making it difficult to concentrate, but he was sure that was his journal. He’d seen it enough to recognize it anywhere. The only question he had was how it had ended up at the bottom of this pit.
The pit wasn’t massive by any means, probably twenty or thirty feet across. If anything, it looked more like someone had set up a pitfall and forgot to finish it. There was also the issue of the hole being covered up. Taryn hadn’t noticed the danger until he was already falling.
But his head was hurting too much to properly consider any of this.
Taryn removed his bloodstained vest and robe, leaving him in only his pants and mask. Thankfully, the mask was tied tightly behind his head, so a little blood wouldn’t do much... Though, depending on how horribly it was stained, he might need to make another one after returning home.
He knew that he would be scolded ruthlessly by his grandmother the instant he walked through the door with a ruined robe.
Taryn wasn’t sure why that information made him smile, but it did.
He struggled to his feet and used the wall of the pit as support while he walked towards the journal.
Though he felt like he would pass out at any moment, he reached the journal without issue. He dropped to his right knee in lieu of bending over to retrieve it.
The instant his fingers took hold of the journal, everything changed.
Suddenly, Taryn was not in a dark pit in the Ukata clan training field. He was standing on a massive wall overlooking a destroyed city. Thousands of people fought in the streets, each of them wading through an ocean of blood to get to their next victim.
A gargantuan shadow passed over Taryn’s head. Looking up, Taryn felt his jaw drop at the sight of something his mind couldn’t fathom.
A massive creature hovered above the city. Its teeth reflected light like the sharpest steel, its scales were whiter than freshly fallen snow, its wings were as dark as night, and its eyes... Its hate-filled crimson eyes stared at him, meeting his eyes and staring right through him.
The creature Taryn believed only existed in myths and legends opened its mouth, and he could see fire building within. The Dragon threw its terrible head forward, sending an ocean of flame to wash over Taryn’s body. Taryn closed his eyes in anticipation of the pain that would come... Only, the flames weren’t hot.
Taryn opened his eyes. To his surprise, a shimmering transparent shield surrounded him, protecting him from the flames.
“We need to talk.” The voice that reached Taryn’s ears sounded ancient—and tired. “Do not turn around,” the voice continued. Taryn realized then that he couldn’t turn around even if he wanted to. “What you are seeing is nothing more than a memory, my memory. In finding my journal, you have unwittingly become my successor.” Taryn heard a truly exhausted sigh escape the man’s lips, not of relief, but of sadness. “I am sorry, truly. But I knew of no other way. I did not want to burden another; you must believe that.”
“What are you talking about?” Taryn asked, surprising himself with his ability to speak. He didn’t know he was able to until he tried.
“You are my successor, and as such, you must carry on my memory to the best of your ability. Or your world will become what you see before you.” Around Taryn, the ocean of flame still passed by harmlessly, preventing him from seeing anything else. “Now, brace yourself—”
“W-Wait! Please!”
“You may ask one question.”
Taryn racked his brain for anything to ask, anything that would prevent or at least slow down whatever this... thing... this person was going to do to him. But now that his life was on the line, he couldn’t think of anything. “Who are you?” Taryn asked, hoping to stall him for even a moment.
“I...” The voice trailed off. “I do not remember my name, only my memory of my failures remains. I am the one who devoted his entire life to gaining power in order to take revenge on someone who died long before I ever reached them. The one who ignored my family in my pursuit of power, and the one who was not there to save them when they needed me most.”
“I... am the Mourner. And my only wish is to prevent you from becoming me.”
Chapter 3
TARYN’S EYES SLOWLY fluttered open. Almost immediately he noticed that his mouth was incredibly dry, to the point where it was difficult for him to swallow, and it felt like his tongue had grown three sizes too large. He tried rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth to get some moisture, but even that failed. His mouth felt like it was full of dirt, and the simple act of moving his tongue caused him pain.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he felt disgusting. Sitting up made him feel like he was peeling his skin off of the smooth rock of the pit. As it turned out, he was peeling himself off the floor. Around where his shoulders and upper back would’ve been, Taryn saw a surprising amount of blood. He lightly touched the back of his head and felt that his hair was sticky with the dried blood, and his neck felt slimy.
Taryn shivered as a cool breeze drifted in from the hole above. The air acted like tiny needles, stabbing him in every pore; looking down at his chest, he realized that the skin there and on his stomach was red and tender—the same was true for his arms.
Taryn couldn’t understand why he felt as if Rala had burned him. He’d only been asleep for... He realized that he didn’t know.
He looked skyward, and Rala’s light was still coloring the sky in shades of orange, purple, and green. However, the light was coming from the opposite direction. But surely he was mistaken. He hadn’t been in the pit that long.
Without warning, Taryn felt pain in his brain like nothing he’d ever felt. Like a spear had been shoved through his skull. Taryn fell backwards and let out a high-pitched moan, the pain temporarily removing his ability to scream.
Visions flashed across Taryn’s eyes: war, death, destruction. It all came across as a big, jumbled mess that he couldn’t make sense of. Luckily, it didn’t last long, only a few seconds, but it felt much longer than that, and the pain rendered him almost catatonic for several minutes afterwards.
Eventually, Taryn managed to gather enough of his wits to move again. He didn’t feel like sitting up—he couldn’t remember what he ate last, but he had a feeling it would end up on the floor if he felt that pain again. So, he slowly rolled himself onto his stomach and pushed to his knees, being extra careful not to jostle his aching body more than was absolutely necessary.
He sat there for a few moments, unable to move or even think due to an onslaught of nausea. Was anything broken? No, he didn’t think so. He was sore, sure, but it was an ache that came from lying on stone for several hours without moving.
Was he hungry? Taryn certainly felt like he should eat, but it was currently the last thing he wanted to do.
What he did really want to do was find whoever dug the pit and shove a spear so far up their backside they could use the blade to pick their teeth clean.
Something from the corner of Taryn’s eye caught his attention, and he recalled the events prior to passing out.
The journal was lying on the ground a few feet away from where he’d fallen. Now that Rala’s light was coming from the other direction, Taryn could see that the journal wasn’t his. It wasn’t even the same color. Taryn’s journal was a rich brown, while this one was dull gray and covered in scratches and other signs of damage: a burn mark here, an indent there, and right in the center was a thin hole, like the kind a rather large blade would make.
Taryn struggled with what to do for several moments, before finally giving in to his curiosity and picking up the book... Nothing happened. The journal just flopped open in his hand, landing on a page somewhere in the middle of the book. There were three images there, or rather a single image from three different angles: the page depicted a faceless man with his left leg extended out in front of him, right leg bent into a crouch, and both arms held out in front of him with clenched fists.
Though the page didn’t say what the drawing was, Taryn instinctively recognized it as the first movement in a set of fifty techniques: the movements revolved around a punching style that valued speed and positioning over force—normally used as a means to dodge strikes and unleash devastating counterblows from unexpected directions. He could see the way to perform the technique in his mind, each step acting like pieces of a puzzle being shifted into place until the whole image became clear.
Taryn knew he could perform the technique easily... Or rather, he could perform a version of it. He’d have to remove the steps that required Eco to perform, leaving a technique with thirty fewer steps.
Taryn snatched up the book and tucked it into the front of his pants. First thing he needed to do was get out of the pit and get cleaned up. Then and only then could he even attempt to figure out what in Aurelia’s name was going on.
As if to protest the fact that it’d been forgotten, Taryn’s stomach chose that exact moment to let its presence be known. Okay, Taryn allowed. Get cleaned up, eat, then figure out what’s going on.
Taryn’s first thought was to try to climb out, but the relatively smooth walls of the pit made that difficult. He could get a few feet off the ground, but then his—admittedly poor—arm strength would fail him, and he’d fall off the wall.
His next thought was to call for help, but that idea was immediately squashed, shoved into a box, and lit on fire. Calling for help was about the stupidest thing he could do right now, ranked only after falling into the pit in the first place.
Teng De had been quite clear about what would happen if Taryn was found in the training fields again, and Taryn didn’t know him well enough to know if he was bluffing or not... Actually, thinking on it again, Taryn was sure he wasn’t bluffing. He could still feel the stone-like grip that so effortlessly held him off the ground and see the anger burning just behind Teng De’s eyes. No way that was a bluff.
From the state of the ground where he’d been lying, it appeared as if he’d lost approximately ten percent of his total blood supply: enough to make him feel faint and weak, but not nearly enough to kill him... Taryn wasn’t sure how he knew that, but something in his gut told him that was correct.
“Well, look what the Nyarin dragged in. Looks like Mask has gone and gotten himself into trouble.” Taryn’s body jolted at the voice. His head tracked up and to the left, only stopping once his eyes landed on a group of boys his age. They were all wearing the standard Ukata training garb: white pants, a black undershirt, and a blue robe.
Taryn wasn’t offended by the nickname, though he probably should have been. It was always difficult for him to discern whether it was meant to be an insult, or because the person hadn’t bothered to remember his name.
Most didn’t.
Taryn heard a sigh filled with annoyance from directly behind him. Before he could react, he was flying through the air. His trip was rather short-lived, as he landed on his back approximately twelve feet from the pit.
A shadow passed over Taryn’s face. It was unfortunately not enough to block all the light shining in his sensitive eyes.
Not that Taryn was willing to ask the shadow to move over. He already felt half dead, no need to sprint the rest of the way just yet.
A pair of vibrant blue eyes stared down at him. The owner of the eyes looked beyond annoyed: her eyebrows furrowed in consternation, her jaw muscles were flexed to the point Taryn could practically hear her teeth grinding against one another, and her lips were pulled into a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
If all of that wasn’t obvious enough, the wooden sword tip sticking into his forehead was a pretty striking clue. One Taryn didn’t even need all of his faculties to pick up on.
“Erm... Hi? I didn’t realize today was the fifteenth.” Taryn showed a nervous smile as he slowly moved the sword tip away from his face. His hand was smacked with the flat end of the sword, and the tip was returned to its place.
“The lot of you get home now. And you...” She pressed the sword tip into Taryn’s forehead hard enough that he just knew it was going to leave a weird mark, even through the mask. “You’re going to explain why you’re here, and you’re going to do it now.”
“Yes, Grandma...” Taryn sighed. He ignored the snickering of the boys around him and waited until they were alone to begin relaying an altered version of his story to Fan Shun, the woman who found him in the forest all those years ago and raised him as her own.
Though she was in her eighties, eighty-seven to be exact, Fan Shun looked to be no older than fifty, with short black hair and a face that was tanned and beginning to wrinkle from long days in the sun. She wore clothes similar to Taryn’s, though her green robe lacked sleeves and her breeches were rolled up to just beneath her knee. Understandable, considering she was under Rala’s light all day. Her rather youthful appearance and strong body was thanks in part to the Ukata genetics, but also to her own hard work and effort in cultivating her Eco.
Though she’d had to leave the clan in order to raise Taryn, she was still highly respected.
Fan Shun was a once-in-a-decade genius who managed to reach the body refining stage at the age of sixteen and was on the cusp of reaching the spirit rising stage—something that could only be claimed by a handful of other people in the entire city—when she found Taryn and “retired.”
