For Want Of Power
Written for the prompt 'thunder' on story_lottery. This story is the sequel to Lifting The Fog, but can be read on its own. Leidian is from the same project as Haneul from Lifting The Fog, Taiki from Something Of His Own and Akio and Kuwabara from Children At Play.
“As you will, daughter,” he said coldly, and turned his back, a signal that she should now leave. She did not.
“We need power, father! Where are our swordsmen, our ninja? Are we to be defended by mere farmers with their little tools? Against men who have spent years perfecting their sword skills, their spying? Should we be so desperate as to allow another province’s army to defend us, and we absorbed into it?” she cried out. She was shaking with rage, fists balled at her sides, her hackles raised.
“You know as well as I do, daughter, that they have fled. Cowards all! And I must bargain with your thrice-damned uncle for his blessing, his-” he spat the word out “-mercy.” His back remained facing her, but now his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “We have nothing left to lose by seeking help.”
“Yes we do, father,” she answered, her voice clear and cold and even. “We have our pride left to lose.”
And she left without another word.
-
Leidian’s face was stony as she arranged the saucers and filled them with the appropriate elements. So it would be all up to her, then. A non-patter alerted her to the presence of her teacher; it was more the feeling that there should have been sound to the footsteps that caught her attention more than anything.
“You’re early, Lady Leidian,” came the voice of her teacher, cool and smooth as the surface of a still body of water. “So eager for your lessons?”
“I need- we need- the power,” she began, speaking in staccato bursts as her thoughts momentarily jumbled, still awed by the sheer intensity of the power that she could feel within her teacher. “We- as you know, this province will be attacked soon- we must not- we cannot allow ourselves to be overwhelmed thus! Even if our so-called army has disappeared- there is a duty to the people- we protect them, in order that they live on- they feed us, they pay taxes- we cannot do this to them!”
“No, you cannot,” he agreed, putting his hand with its stump of a little finger on her shoulder. “So what can we do, instead?”
Leidian lowered her head in thought, lacing her fingers together and bringing them to her lips unconsciously. “It’s clear that we cannot hope to ward off Lord Hou’s advances, not as weak as we are. But I won’t allow us to have to submit to uncle, or anyone else. We don’t know when Lord Hou will attack… but I know that father will have sent a messenger to uncle already.” Her mouth tightened with anger at the mere thought of her uncle.
“So even now the message is being sent?” mused her teacher. “Then we must intercept the horse, so Lord Rongyu will not receive it. There’s an exercise for you, Lady Leidian, and I shall execute your solution myself, for we lack time to teach you the proper ritual. Think well.”
Leidian nodded her head, and sat down in the middle of the circle of saucers, folding her legs into the lotus position. Sitting in the circle did nothing magical to boost her concentration, to be perfectly honest; it was simply that she felt the better for being surrounded by a key to power.
She cleared her mind, and began to think.
-
The Trader had been in the garden, contemplating the black and gray swirls of the rocks. There was a small bubbling behind him that was the little waterfall built and maintained by the servants. It was, overall, a quiet and peaceful little place-
“I have it!”
He sighed and turned to face the jubilant girl running towards him. Either he had been contemplating the rocks far longer than he had thought, or she had been thinking far shorter than he had estimated. He spread his hands. “Very well, Lady Leidian. What have you decided?”
“For much of the way directly from our province to uncle’s, it’s a nice wide road that goes completely straight, with few forks. But at one point it happens to swerve… at that point, we should change the road. Make it so it leads away from uncle’s. Turn it back. The messenger will think that he has taken a wrong path along the way when he finds himself back here. And that will give us time to stop Lord Hou.”
He nodded, pleased with her idea. “Very good. I will begin immediately. And then we shall tackle the problem of Lord Hou.”
“Oh, I’ve solved that too,” she exclaimed, happy. “We have to make his soldiers take ill. Poison their food and water, so they’ll be unfit to attack. He’ll find it useless to even try, then.”
The Trader pursed his lips; he absently rubbed the stump on his left hand. “That can be ineffective if the poisoning is discovered early on. People can starve a day or two, and go without water, while waiting for clean food and water to arrive.”
“Oh…” Leidian faltered, her enthusiasm declining. She bit her lip; her brows drew together, indicating the thoughts already brewing beneath the surface.
“The idea is sound, though. I shall go about cursing them with a disease harsh enough that they can scarcely walk, once I have finished diverting the messenger. How many do Lord Hou’s troops number?”
“Father estimated nearly two thousand,” Leidian answered confidently. She had spent countless hours going over what information they had on Lord Hou’s army, as well as their own.
“Two thousand? I fear my power cannot match such a number… I shall require your power as well, Lady Leidian.”
-
He was standing in the middle of the circle, arms wide and held aloft, while Leidian, sitting at his feet, her back to him, stroked the dog, little more than a pup, soothing it gently. Once it was calm, she stroked it one last time, and then coolly slashed its throat.
Once it had stopped moving, she put it down belly-up, and slit its stomach open lengthwise, to reach its entrails. She removed them- she had gotten quite practiced at this, ever since she first requested his tutelage- and arranged them carefully, a circle within the ritual circle. She whispered the carefully memorized words as she did so, feeling the shift of power deep in her bones.
He shouted his own words- a feeling of malevolence, of pain- and soon, it was done.
-
The report reached them scarcely three days later, after the messenger had returned, confused and distressed. Lord Zhang had been displeased with his daughter and her teacher, but took no action until their actions had been confirmed.
The Trader had decided that Lady Leidian must tread the path alone from that point on, however; she had grown beyond his guidance at last.
-
So the ceremony is begun. From midnight exactly, between this day and the next, until the rise of the sun.
Leidian bleeds. She screams. She wants to curl up and weep, uncaring of attention from any around. She cries for her long dead mother. But she is strong, and stands her ground though she is not silent, and the wounds soon close as if they were never there.
The magic takes her eye like a kiss, smooth and gentle, and there is no pain but for the falling of eyelashes, the shriveling and death and nonexistence of the tear duct, the sealing of the eyelids into one smooth patch of skin across her right eye socket.
As the dawn breaks she stands facing the east, watching the sun with her one eye, and does not weep. Her once-teacher bows his head, and kisses her chastely once, on the lips, and once again, on the place where her eye had been, and then he turns and leaves, and never looks back, walking away from the sunrise.
Author's note: This last scene happens to be the one that Haneul witnesses at the end of Lifting The Fog. The prompt 'thunder' is not central to the story but appears in a subtle way: Leidian is a character whom I had decided was the 'lady of the thunder' before I signed up for lottery 2, and her name literally means 'thunder and lightning'.
“As you will, daughter,” he said coldly, and turned his back, a signal that she should now leave. She did not.
“We need power, father! Where are our swordsmen, our ninja? Are we to be defended by mere farmers with their little tools? Against men who have spent years perfecting their sword skills, their spying? Should we be so desperate as to allow another province’s army to defend us, and we absorbed into it?” she cried out. She was shaking with rage, fists balled at her sides, her hackles raised.
“You know as well as I do, daughter, that they have fled. Cowards all! And I must bargain with your thrice-damned uncle for his blessing, his-” he spat the word out “-mercy.” His back remained facing her, but now his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “We have nothing left to lose by seeking help.”
“Yes we do, father,” she answered, her voice clear and cold and even. “We have our pride left to lose.”
And she left without another word.
-
Leidian’s face was stony as she arranged the saucers and filled them with the appropriate elements. So it would be all up to her, then. A non-patter alerted her to the presence of her teacher; it was more the feeling that there should have been sound to the footsteps that caught her attention more than anything.
“You’re early, Lady Leidian,” came the voice of her teacher, cool and smooth as the surface of a still body of water. “So eager for your lessons?”
“I need- we need- the power,” she began, speaking in staccato bursts as her thoughts momentarily jumbled, still awed by the sheer intensity of the power that she could feel within her teacher. “We- as you know, this province will be attacked soon- we must not- we cannot allow ourselves to be overwhelmed thus! Even if our so-called army has disappeared- there is a duty to the people- we protect them, in order that they live on- they feed us, they pay taxes- we cannot do this to them!”
“No, you cannot,” he agreed, putting his hand with its stump of a little finger on her shoulder. “So what can we do, instead?”
Leidian lowered her head in thought, lacing her fingers together and bringing them to her lips unconsciously. “It’s clear that we cannot hope to ward off Lord Hou’s advances, not as weak as we are. But I won’t allow us to have to submit to uncle, or anyone else. We don’t know when Lord Hou will attack… but I know that father will have sent a messenger to uncle already.” Her mouth tightened with anger at the mere thought of her uncle.
“So even now the message is being sent?” mused her teacher. “Then we must intercept the horse, so Lord Rongyu will not receive it. There’s an exercise for you, Lady Leidian, and I shall execute your solution myself, for we lack time to teach you the proper ritual. Think well.”
Leidian nodded her head, and sat down in the middle of the circle of saucers, folding her legs into the lotus position. Sitting in the circle did nothing magical to boost her concentration, to be perfectly honest; it was simply that she felt the better for being surrounded by a key to power.
She cleared her mind, and began to think.
-
The Trader had been in the garden, contemplating the black and gray swirls of the rocks. There was a small bubbling behind him that was the little waterfall built and maintained by the servants. It was, overall, a quiet and peaceful little place-
“I have it!”
He sighed and turned to face the jubilant girl running towards him. Either he had been contemplating the rocks far longer than he had thought, or she had been thinking far shorter than he had estimated. He spread his hands. “Very well, Lady Leidian. What have you decided?”
“For much of the way directly from our province to uncle’s, it’s a nice wide road that goes completely straight, with few forks. But at one point it happens to swerve… at that point, we should change the road. Make it so it leads away from uncle’s. Turn it back. The messenger will think that he has taken a wrong path along the way when he finds himself back here. And that will give us time to stop Lord Hou.”
He nodded, pleased with her idea. “Very good. I will begin immediately. And then we shall tackle the problem of Lord Hou.”
“Oh, I’ve solved that too,” she exclaimed, happy. “We have to make his soldiers take ill. Poison their food and water, so they’ll be unfit to attack. He’ll find it useless to even try, then.”
The Trader pursed his lips; he absently rubbed the stump on his left hand. “That can be ineffective if the poisoning is discovered early on. People can starve a day or two, and go without water, while waiting for clean food and water to arrive.”
“Oh…” Leidian faltered, her enthusiasm declining. She bit her lip; her brows drew together, indicating the thoughts already brewing beneath the surface.
“The idea is sound, though. I shall go about cursing them with a disease harsh enough that they can scarcely walk, once I have finished diverting the messenger. How many do Lord Hou’s troops number?”
“Father estimated nearly two thousand,” Leidian answered confidently. She had spent countless hours going over what information they had on Lord Hou’s army, as well as their own.
“Two thousand? I fear my power cannot match such a number… I shall require your power as well, Lady Leidian.”
-
He was standing in the middle of the circle, arms wide and held aloft, while Leidian, sitting at his feet, her back to him, stroked the dog, little more than a pup, soothing it gently. Once it was calm, she stroked it one last time, and then coolly slashed its throat.
Once it had stopped moving, she put it down belly-up, and slit its stomach open lengthwise, to reach its entrails. She removed them- she had gotten quite practiced at this, ever since she first requested his tutelage- and arranged them carefully, a circle within the ritual circle. She whispered the carefully memorized words as she did so, feeling the shift of power deep in her bones.
He shouted his own words- a feeling of malevolence, of pain- and soon, it was done.
-
The report reached them scarcely three days later, after the messenger had returned, confused and distressed. Lord Zhang had been displeased with his daughter and her teacher, but took no action until their actions had been confirmed.
The Trader had decided that Lady Leidian must tread the path alone from that point on, however; she had grown beyond his guidance at last.
-
So the ceremony is begun. From midnight exactly, between this day and the next, until the rise of the sun.
Leidian bleeds. She screams. She wants to curl up and weep, uncaring of attention from any around. She cries for her long dead mother. But she is strong, and stands her ground though she is not silent, and the wounds soon close as if they were never there.
The magic takes her eye like a kiss, smooth and gentle, and there is no pain but for the falling of eyelashes, the shriveling and death and nonexistence of the tear duct, the sealing of the eyelids into one smooth patch of skin across her right eye socket.
As the dawn breaks she stands facing the east, watching the sun with her one eye, and does not weep. Her once-teacher bows his head, and kisses her chastely once, on the lips, and once again, on the place where her eye had been, and then he turns and leaves, and never looks back, walking away from the sunrise.
Author's note: This last scene happens to be the one that Haneul witnesses at the end of Lifting The Fog. The prompt 'thunder' is not central to the story but appears in a subtle way: Leidian is a character whom I had decided was the 'lady of the thunder' before I signed up for lottery 2, and her name literally means 'thunder and lightning'.