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Blessed By Silver

Mnemon Kaza fought to keep his voice even, chanting the Third Sutra of Fire. His shoulders ached where Tetsu and Piu held him prostrate, and every thwack of the bamboo cane against his back was like a tongue of flame curling around his flanks.

Out the corner of his eyes, he could see the horrified expressions of his 'classmates'. Lesser children had broken under the first taste of the cane.

Mnemon Kaza was not one of those 'lesser' children.

There was a loud crack as the cane snapped across his back. Professor Geza (his full title being Most Gentle Corrector of Wayward Children) threw down the ruins in disgust. That was the third time this week this had happened.

"Damn you, boy!" he snarled. "I've broken more brazen brats than you! I will make you cry out, even if I have to flay the skin from your back to do it!"

Panting, Kaza slowly lifted his head. His silvery-white locks were dripping with sweat. Even so, he smiled.

"There is a first time for everything," he rasped. Professor Geza's red face turned purple.

"You dare?" he roared. He shoved Kaza's captors away, brilliant white Essence curling up off his shoulders. The children whimpered as Geza snatched Kaza up at the shoulders and shook him like a rag doll. "You dare look me in the face? You dare speak to me? On your knees, filth! You will learn respect for your betters yet, even if it kills you!" Geza hurled Kaza to the ground with enough force to crack bone.

"I should be so lucky," Kaza whispered as his captors took up their positions again. Geza hefted a fresh cane, a sadistic grin on his Exalted face.

"Do not tempt me, boy," he said, his tone once again smooth and silky. "Now. The First Sutra of Wood. And not a single stutter, or you'll start over. Now. Begin!"

And as the cane whistled down, Kaza began.

It was not his fault that Kaza was imprisoned at the Palace of the Tamed Storm. All his life, he had been brought up knowing his birthright. He was a great-grandson of the Empress Herself. Her Exalted blood flowed in him. All his elder siblings were Chosen of the Dragons, and held positions of great eminence throughout the Realm. So how could he not be Chosen?

But as Kaza grew into adolescence, he remained pitiably mortal. The older he got, the more desperate he became. Surely, there was something he was missing. Did he not recite the sutras every day? Did he not apply himself well to his studies? Was he not properly Immaculate?

Perhaps if he acted like he was Exalted, then he would become Exalted. Thus did Kaza begin to lord himself over his peers. But his teachers all frowned upon his arrogance. Such behavior did not become a Prince of the Earth. It particularly did not become a boy who had not yet been Chosen. Kaza ignored their prattling. Who were they to tell him what he could and could not do? Why, any day, the Dragons would ignite his blood, and they would all be sorry...

But it never happened, and desperation became anger, and despair. Kaza turned to violence to vent his frustration. He had been lied to his whole life. It was bad enough that he matured into a coldly beautiful young man, with perfect features that showed off his fine breeding. To make things worse, his parents took every opportunity to remind him what a disappointment he was. Clearly, it was his own fault he was not Exalted. Never mind the fact that he had bent over backwards trying to please them and the Dragons. What more could he give?

Maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe it was the Dragons' fault. But to say such things was heresy, and Kaza was not quite that brazen, yet.

Kaza was sixteen when his audacity went too far. His parents had been kind enough to humor his angry outbursts and constant shows of disrespect. But when he spat in the face of the girl they had chosen for him to marry, they both decided that enough was enough.

"What does it matter who I marry? The Dragons obviously don't care about me!" Kaza had said angrily. "I don't even like girls!"

Lady Rasha had been horrified and deeply shamed by her son's ultimate failing, while Lord Loran cuffed his wayward boy, admonishing him for his unacceptable behavior. It was the first time he had ever lain violent hands on any of his children.

"This will end tonight. As of now, you are no longer a student at the Cloister of Wisdom. We are sending you to the Palace of the Tamed Storm. And may Pasiap have mercy upon your unworthy soul, boy, for they shall have none!" Loran had said while Lady Rasha wept silently.

And so Kaza found himself here, on a craggy bluff set into the side of Mount Meru, being soundly beaten while he recited the sutras. He would not be broken. Not by these people. They wanted him to break. Kaza would never give them that pleasure. He would have rather died.

Finally, the sun began to set in the West, and Professor Geza decided his arms were tired. He informed Kaza that he was not permitted to return to the Palace. Rather, he would spend the night on the mountain to meditate upon his proper place in the Perfected Hierarchy.

Kaza was hobbled by thick iron manacles, which were then tethered to a spike that Geza drove into the rock with his bare hands. Then, the students left him alone.

He paced to keep himself warm. It was the last week of Descending Earth, and it would be winter soon. This high up on the Imperial Mountain, the chill came quickly, and he had nothing on save a pair of breeches. The pain in his back kept him hunched over, but still, he paced. He could stand, at least. As the moon rose, he paused to piss against the stones. There was blood in the stream, he realized.

When the sun arose, he was still on his feet. Not long afterward, Geza made the ascent. He carried a bowl of rice in one hand and a cup of water in the other.

"Well, boy?" he growled. "How's that temper of yours? Hungry enough for it to have cooled?" He held out the bowl and the cup. Kaza looked Geza right in the eye. He smiled. Then, he leaned over and spat into the rice.

When Kaza awoke, he was lying on his side. The side of his head throbbed, and he couldn't move his jaw without wincing. He could see one of his teeth not far from his nose, like a perfect pearl against the black granite. There were rice grains in his alabaster hair, and shards of porcelain driven into the stone.

This time, Geza stayed gone for three days. The second day, it rained. Though it chilled Kaza to the bone, it gave him water to drink, and he was grateful. On the morning of the fourth day, Geza brought another bowl of rice and another cup of water. Again, Kaza refused to be broken.

Six days passed. The small puddles of rain water that Kaza secreted under rocks grew musty and stagnant. When they ran out, he took to lapping at puddles of his own piss. His head began to swim, and he started to see and hear things that were not there. But he would sooner die than be broken by them.

As night descended, Kaza leaned against the stone of the mountain. His own stench filled his nostrils, and his whole body was numb with weakness, sickness, and hunger. The moon hung low in the sky, barely the width of a fingernail, like a silver grin in an eyeless face.

"Pretty little dragon-boy..." The voice was a musical one, like the chiming of bells. Kaza blinked slowly. Now, surely, he was going mad.

"Look at me, pretty little dragon-boy." Kaza lifted his head and gazed up at the moon. A slender figure sat in the curve with its legs crossed at the ankles, its feet slowly swinging back and forth. It was clothed in silver, and its lips were quirked in a smile.

"You hate them so, don't you?" it said (for Kaza still could not be sure if the figure was a girlish man or a boyish girl). "They, who have stolen your birthright from you, who have beaten you, who have chained you and left you to starve. Like a beast."

Kaza could only nod. He had no strength to do anything else.

The figure smiled. Nimbly it leapt from the crescent of the moon. "Then be chained no longer, Dragon Boy. Instead, be my cunning fox. Go where no others can see you. Walk with your head up and your eyes bright." The figure was close now. It clasped his sore jaw with cool hands, and where it touched, his flesh was made whole. Then, it kissed his forehead.

"Rise up, Kaza. I have Chosen you." The figure giggled, then was gone.

Gone also was the weakness and sick. With a swift kick of his legs, he was free from the chains. In a nearby stream, Kaza washed, scrubbing a week's worth of filth from his skin. In the water, he saw the silver mark on his forehead. Perhaps once, he would have been horrified to learn that he was Anathema.

So be it. There were worse things one could aspire to.

On the way down the mountainside, Kaza encountered a kit fox. His hunger leapt back at him with a vengeance, and he ran after it until it collapsed from exhaustion. With no thought in his mind other than the hot tang of the fox's blood, Kaza tore it apart with his bare hands, and gorged himself on its flesh. Some new instinct of his told him that this was right and proper. When he figured out how to assume the fox's shape, Kaza understood why. It did not take him long to learn.

Kaza crept around the Palace of the Tamed Storm, avoiding the barracks where the children slept. Rather, he sought out the compound where the teachers were quartered. He had business with Professor Geza before he took his leave of the Blessed Isle.

It seemed like years had passed since Kaza had last been within the walls of the compound. The classrooms were silent, but his prey was not there. Kaza smiled in the dark. Soon, Geza would call for one of the serving girls. On Mars Day, it was always June Blossom. Kaza's grin broadened.

Sure enough, at the appointed time, June Blossom knocked on the door to Geza's room. She was quiet and dutiful as the Professor drew her inside and slid the door shut behind her.

But as soon as his groping fingers reached for her obi, Geza's lusty grin turned into a silent 'O' of shock. June Blossom was gone. Kaza stood in her place, his hand around Geza's throat.

"Call out, and you die," he whispered quietly. But Geza wasn't looking at Kaza's face. Rather, his eyes were riveted on the crescent-moon mark that glittered beneath alabaster-white bangs.

"D-demon!" he squeaked. Kaza nodded.

"Yes," he said, using the cool, languid voice he favored when talking down to the underclassmen. "A demon. The Dragons deigned not to Choose me. So I have been Chosen by Luna instead." He smiled a predatory smile. "Isn't it a pity, Professor Geza? I have you to thank, you know." Geza shook his head, sweat pouring off his pudgy face. Kaza traced a bead with one fingertip, bringing it to his lips to taste the salty water. "You showed me the error of the Immaculate Philosophy, you see," he said. "Had the Dragons Chosen me, then I would have grown fat. And weak." He punctuated each statement with a poke into Geza's ample middle. The Terrestrial whimpered. "Ahh, not so fearsome now, are you, Professor?" Kaza asked. "Not so eager to beat down a helpless little boy, are you?" The hand slid down between Geza's thighs, making the Terrestrial squeak.

"It gets you hard, doesn't it, Professor?" Kaza whispered, venom in his voice. "You like having power over those who cannot fight you." Kaza's eyes turned the color of burnished steel. "I have unfortunate news for you, I am afraid," he hissed. "The world you know is about to fall. You may thank me for ensuring you will not be around to see it."

And with no further ado, Kaza clenched his hand into a fist, catching Geza's agonized scream with the other. But, just to show that he was not the sadist the Professor was, he snapped the Terrestrial's neck with one clean motion, ending his brief, yet terrified suffering.

Kaza regarded the body as it slid bonelessly to the ground, the head bobbing at an odd angle. Cold swept through him as icy reason chilled the hot blood hammering in his ears. He had just killed a man. He had just killed a Prince of the Earth. Kaza began to shake as fear threatened to overwhelm him. He was Anathema. He was in the center of the Blessed Isle. Surely, even now, the Wyld Hunt was coming for him.

Sobbing with terror, Kaza began to strip the room of all the valuables he could carry. Geza's clothing was far too big for him, but he was able to keep the trousers hitched up with a couple extra sashes. The pouch of jade obols would buy him passage, and the short powerbow with white jade inlays would serve him well. By pure instinct, Kaza wove his Essence into the jade ingots on the grip, feeling it become a part of his anima. The sensation was jarring, and he dimly recalled from his lessons that Lunar Anathema lusted for the mystical metal known as moonsilver. He had never seen moonsilver before, but he knew he would know it when he saw it.

Quiet as a shadow, Kaza slunk out into the hallway, closing the door behind him without a sound. Then, he made his way down the hallway, out the main door, and away from the compound. As soon as he was out of sight of the Palace, he assumed the fox's shape again and ran as fast as he could.

A figure all in black watched the silver fox streak across the mountainous highlands, heading east, towards the Imperial City and the port. With quiet words, it made a series of gestures and invoked an Infallible Messenger. "The omen is true," whispered a female voice. "The Lunar Anathema has killed, and flees for the Imperial City."

As the horrified scream of the serving girl echoed through the halls of the Palace, Black Lotus detached herself from the shadow, wrapping fate around herself like a cloak. No-one would see her for she did not wish it. Thus shrouded, she began to make her way back to the Palace Sublime, where she would arrive just before morning devotions.

To be continued...

Commentary?

Very nice. Now let's see some stats! :) - Quendalon

Glad you like it. ^_^ I hear and obey--I have BurgerSlave/BlessedBySilver/MnemonKaza written up here, and his nemesis, the Endings Sidereal Black Lotus, is coming soon. Also look out for a writeup of Gaios, Kaza's No Moon Mentor in the Silver Pact. --BurgerSlave