Threads 233-Thunder 4

These deep halls were quiet. Whether this was because of the party above or a regular occurrence, Ling Qi didn’t know. Worked stone and polished tiles gave way to more natural stone, organic formations of rock shaped by eons of dripping water taking over for the artificial decor from above. They descended a little slower now, the mad dash of the opening moments behind them. Yu Nuan now rode on the back of Qiu, grown to his full horse-like size.

“How did you find out about this?” Ling Qi asked, skirting along beneath the damp “teeth” of rock that lined the roof of the passage.

“The Leigong took me down here for a lesson. It was a reward for a song,” Yu Nuan whispered over the happy panting of the thunder hound she rode, voice carrying on Sixiang’s breeze.

“Seems strange for a spirit of storm and thunder,” Ling Qi said dubiously.

“He said it was about understanding the origin of the storm,” Yu Nuan explained. “And I kinda get it. It all comes back to water. Hey, don’t touch anything off the path!”

Ling Qi blinked, immediately banking to the side to fully avoid a curtain of gleaming stone that seemed like a cascade of water frozen in time. She’d not have touched it physically, but a trail of her qi would have. “Alarms? Traps? I don’t sense anything.”

“No. But if you get your qi into the stones here, it’ll piss off the gardener. We need him sweet to get what we need.”

Ling Qi nodded absently, dropping a little lower and pulling in her aura further, tight against her skin. She focused now and could see the “path” Yu Nuan had mentioned, a corridor of stone with silent, static qi. She vaguely remembered Bao Qian speaking of stone gardens in regards to his clan. “Got it. A big spirit then?”

“Pretty sure the Leigong’s still the boss, but he treated the guy down here with respect. C’mon.”

Down they went, through winding caverns of increasing beauty, past pools lined with living crystals and strange, alien formations of stone, until at last they came to a wide chamber filled with water that bubbled and boiled, an underground lake spotted with isles of stone. There were dozens of isles, each overgrown with glittering crystal in many hues, and in the center was a small stone hut, humble and inconspicuous. Above, steam rose into a shroud near the cavern’s roof, and the air was thick with humidity.

Ling Qi grimaced at the dampness, weaving a tight web of cooler air around her to keep it off. Soft snow fell in her wake, melting instantly when she stepped away. “No lava?”

“Not that kind of stone. Like I said, it’s all about the water. The way it changes, rises, and falls and how heat influences the storm. Least that’s what I got out of it. A storm arises from many factors.”

Ling Qi hummed. She wasn’t going to gainsay another cultivator on something core to her methods, even if she didn’t entirely get it. “Good. What’s our plan? Call out, make an offering?”

“Since it looks like the headstart got us here first, this should be easy,” Yu Nuan said, unlimbering her lute. “This guy liked my songs too, so I think I’ve got this one. Can you prep us to get out though? There’s a vent up there, and we can probably go up quickly if you protect us from the heat and do whatever it is you did earlier.”

“Dreamwalking,” Ling Qi corrected absently, spinning up some more icy qi. She kept an eye and an ear on the passage behind them with a trailing silver wisp while Sixiang kept their attention on the air currents.

Yu Nuan grunted an acknowledgement as she strummed a few testing notes. She then launched into a song. It wasn’t the usual blazing inferno and striking lightning of her works, more like a spring flood put to music. What it lacked in volume and thunder, it made up for with a tonal discord that nonetheless managed to be coherent.

Out on the bubbling lake, the little stone hut rattled, and its door drifted open, revealing a single crystalline eye larger than Ling Qi. Two stony lids appeared as it first looked at them and then shut as the music washed out, a moment of song.

“Little cloud.” The voice reverberated from the rock around them, grinding and heavy. “You were passing. Not fools to slap away from my gardens. Why do you come? The revel roars. Be there. The quiet is not for you.”

Yu Nuan bowed her head. “The Lady Dianmu set us a hunting game, and I think one of your crystals is an answer. Could we bargain for one?”

“That woman,” the stone spirit rumbled. “So thoughtless, sending drunkards to gambol in my gallery. Take one then, and get you gone. One less hoodlum fighting down here will only make it easier to keep order.”

The eye shifted to Ling Qi, squinting. “And take that one with you. The cold will upset the pool.”

“Please. I’d like to not trouble you long, sir,” Ling Qi said.

“See that you don’t, and keep this one out of trouble, you hear?” the curmudgeonly rock gardener rumbled, his voice felt in her bones. One of the crystal-filled islands floated closer, parting the waters like a ship, allowing Yu Nuan to pluck a bright red crystal, still sparkling with superheated qi.

The girl hissed, tossing it from one hand to another for a second before Sixiang snatched it from the air with a gust of wind, sending it to storage.

“We’ll not trouble you any longer, sir,” Yu Nuan said, bowing hurriedly. Ling Qi began to detect some noise coming down the tunnels. “May we use the vent?”

The eye looked dubious. “If you’ll not burn up.”

“We’ll be fine,” Ling Qi reassured, bowing as well. “Yu Nuan?”

Her companion nodded, and they dashed off above the lake, kicking up ripples as they flew into the cloud of steam. Ling Qi spread her aura, a careful application of the lessons lent by her mentor to render it merely hot and uncomfortable rather than heated beyond mortal reason. They passed swiftly through the layer of moisture, following the curvature of the ceiling and flying up and up until they were moving straight up a tube only five or six meters wide.

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“The dragon’s breath is probably on the mountain peak,” Yu Nuan called. “You got an idea for the others?”

“Maybe,” Ling Qi called over the hiss of the steam. “Does this place have a library or a poet?”

“Why?” Yu Nuan’s face screwed up for a moment. “Ah, I get it. I was thinking of the little weasels that run around this place with the sharp claws. Yeah, there’s a library. Why’d you think of that?”

“Because Lady Cai’s sword is named Cifeng, spelled with the characters ‘cutting words’,’” Ling Qi explained absently, getting a feel for the folds of dream in this narrow space. Catapulting them straight up shouldn’t be too hard.

“What,” Yu Nuan said dully.

“Nothing wrong with a good pun,” Sixiang said cheerfully. “Or a bad one! Hold onto your insides!”