Threads 130-Convergence 8

A hurricane of wind ripped through the broken wall of the caldera, and it was everything Linq Qi could do to not be blown away. She stared out through the gap at the rising cloud of smoke and debris, a tall pillar with an expanding cap which rose from a blackened crater where a valley had once been. Ling Qi dragged her eyes upward and beheld the clouds rising in a kilometers-wide funnel above the caldera, whirling walls of wind that screamed at speeds fit to tear trees and whole hills from the earth. The circle of visible sky was awash with light, countless burning stars blooming and dying.

The elder stood motionless. No, that wasn’t right, she realized as a mountain peak caved in, crushed in the shape of a foot, and a second falling sun detonated kilometers away and still ripped at her hair and gown. He appeared to be still because she could not see him moving. She saw a thousand, two thousand, detonations of light in the sky, and the air wailed with unending thunder. She could feel the wind around her distorting, the world’s natural flows bending and buckling under their weight. She could feel the storm deforming, heaven, water, and wind qi carving itself into the world in unalterable grooves.

The spirits of the world were going mad with panic, and she could feel even the slow spirits of the mountains themselves awakening, hardening their stony hides in the face of ruin.

She ripped her eyes away from the battle that she could not hope to comprehend, let alone affect. The ring of lesser nomads overhead was nearly gone, dead or scattered, with only a handful left, but even they were fleeing the clash of the titans. Ling Qi crossed the battlefield in an eyeblink, wrestling the chaotic winds all the way.

As she appeared at Zhengui’s side, two sets of eyes blinked dazedly at her. “I… did good, Big Sister?” he asked in his twinned voice.

“You did,” Ling Qi said. “So take a break now, alright?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, eyelids drooping as he dematerialized.

Around her, Ling Qi noted the other disciples climbing out of grasping roots that prevented the wind from hurling them about like matchsticks. Most were struggling to their feet, but Ling Qi could sense the impurity in their auras, eating away at them. She could even feel it on herself, clinging to her skin like oil. Ling Qi grimaced. If she had saved them just to have them die now…

A bell rang, clear and high. Harsh light washed over the crater, but its touch was kind. Not soft, never that, but kind all the same. Ling Qi let out a breath as she felt the oily weight of impurity vanish from her channels, and inside her dantian, her spirits’ presences pulsed with relief.

<I take back at least half of the bad things I’ve thought about that one,> Sixiang mumbled.

<I’m sorry, Big Sis,> Hanyi whispered.

Ling Qi hushed her, willing her to rest. Renxiang landed at her side, a ribbon of liquid light swimming through the air and casting its purifying light despite the frayed edges and spots of black that marked it.

“That was good work,” the heiress said quietly, and Ling Qi knew only she could hear. “Liming gave me some difficulty in those last moments.” Renxiang’s voice was rough. There was a raggedness to it, sourced from the ugly burns that marked her throat.

“I’m glad you ladies are well!” Ruan Shen called from the crater’s lip. A shock of his hair was still bright green, and flower petals still clung to his skin, masking steaming burns. “If you gather everyone up, I can play a little pick-me-up!”

Right, they weren’t done, Ling Qi thought. Just because the immediate enemies had fled didn’t mean that they weren’t still on the battlefield. Even if she refused to look, the battle above roared in her mind.

The storm raged, and a titan with lightning for bones and clouds for flesh grappled with a great golden mountain among the jeering stars. Rays of harsh sunfire and heavenly bolts tore at the mountainside, sending a million tons of stone crumbling down. Within the mountain, dawn’s light bloomed, a thousand colors spilling from painted caverns. Harsh and soft sunlight clashed and lit the vault of heaven aflame.

“I will provide vigil. Ling Qi, help get the others on their feet,” Cai Renxiang ordered. “Recovery formation on Disciple Ruan!”

Ling Qi shook out the pressure invading her thoughts. “Right,” she grimaced.

Swiftly, she scanned those climbing to their feet and blinked to the side of a young man as a broken ankle collapsed under his weight. She caught him halfway to the ground, and a swift leap carried him to Ruan Shen’s side. She vanished on a whisper of wind, repeating the action twice more.

Even with the pressure above, Ling Qi could not help but notice a change in her peers’ attitudes. There was no hint of the jealousy and sullen dislike that had simmered beneath the polite surface. She wasn’t sure it would last, but for now, the battlefield had stripped it away.

Ling Qi returned to Ruan Shen’s side with the last of the disciples in time to hear Ruan Shen’s soothing song and feel the soft spring melody wash over her. She felt aches ease and pain grow dull, although she could tell that the effect was temporary. Around her, others straightened up as broken bones slid back into place, and flower petals fell, clinging to and staunching wounds.

“We’ll all need a visit to the medicine hall, but I can keep us on our feet,” Ruan Shen said, running his fingers nervously over his scorched scalp. “Now, what’s—”

A hundred thousand arrows roared from a bowstring, each one a shard of sunfire fletched with the storm. They flew unerring, and one hundred fists the size of hills shattered the air, punching them from the sky, and battered the Cloud Titan, but could not catch the scattering sky. Behind the fists, a mountain bled liquid sunlight from a thousand tiny wounds.

Ruan Shen shuddered, his smile transforming into a grimace. “What’s the plan?” he finished, his voice strained.

“I have received our orders,” Cai Renxiang spoke from above. The line of her gaze was visible in light as she scanned the caldera for threats. “We are to retreat and secure the starstone until we rendezvous with our reinforcements. Communication is breaking down due to the intensifying storm. We must assume that the enemy is reinforcing as well.”

Ling Qi glanced to the other side of the caldera where the stone still rested. The moisture-thick air around it glimmered with rainbow light. “I suppose I can move it,” Ling Qi said. She had enough qi to use her Grinding Glacial Melody technique quite a few times.

“I will pierce the caldera wall,” Cai Renxiang said grimly, “and assist with the movement. Sir Ruan, bolster our efforts. The rest of you, form a perimeter and watch for foes.”

The chorus of agreement was perfunctory. No one wanted to stay in the caldera. They moved toward the wall where the stone rested, and Cai Renxiang descended, drawing back her saber. Three swift slashes carved through the already dissolving rock.

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When the tip of Renxiang’s blade bloomed with light and unleashed a small ray of scouring light over the stone and the wall however, something strange happened. The stone, so inert up until now, wobbled violently. Cai Renxiang let out a choked off grunt of pain. Her free hand flew up to press against her temple.

Behind the starstone, the wall that had been targeted still crumbled away under the blast.

Everyone scattered as the stone rolled toward them, defensive techniques activating only for it to rock to a stop when it reached a small upward slope in the broken floor. They all eyed it warily.

“Maybe I should handle the moving on my own,” Ling Qi said.

“Agreed.” Cai Renxiang glared suspiciously at the starstone.

“Seconded,” Ruan Shen said nervously, continuing to strum out a bolstering tune.