One of the smaller children wobbled and fell. An adult hurried over, and I expected him to help the kid up. Instead, the older man berated the child, shouting at him for being useless until the poor kid was back on his feet. Further down the line, another instructor was kicking at children’s legs, seeing if they had the balance to withstand him, then haranguing those who didn’t.
Not all the children in the courtyard were taking part in the exercise. Around the edges, some stood or sat in the dirt, watching what was happening. They didn’t have the matching black outfits of the participants and both their clothes and faces were grubbier, their hair bedraggled. I wondered if these were of a lower class, excluded from the privilege of martial arts training. But then, I looked up and saw other watchers on the balconies of tall buildings, among them children in finely embroidered robes, their hair tied neatly back. I figured the opportunity to learn martial arts was a privilege even among this culture’s upper echelons.
“Enough!” a voice bellowed.
All across the square, the children froze. Even the watchers stiffened, their eyes drawn toward the instructor’s balcony. Passersby stopped in their tracks, and I decided it was best to do the same.
A man emerged from the corner of the balcony. He was in his late 40s, with gray hair flecking his hair and beard. His long, green robes were embroidered with a red eagle. Hands clasped behind his back, he looked across the crowd. “Children of Clan Wysaro, do you know the first step on the road to greatness?” he called out in a commanding voice.
“Yes, Lord Wysaro,” they replied as one.
“No!” Lord Wysaro slammed his hand against the railing, and the sound echoed around the silent square. “If you did, you would not fail your masters over and over again.
“The first step on the road to greatness is that of Augmentation. You must not just follow its first forms; you must master them before you reach adulthood. Without that, you will never be accepted into a guild. Without that, you will never learn to enhance your Vigor. Without that, you will never control the arcane skills and martial techniques.”
His gaze drifted across the crowd before settling on a group near the back. These were the oldest of the group, all in their late teens or early 20s. Among them was a young man with delicate features framed by long bangs, the rest of his hair bound in a tight bun. His eyes were narrowed, his expression intense, as if he were stifling some deep disquiet.
“You are the children of Clan Wysaro,” Lord Wysaro continued, still looking at the young man. “Your clan expects only the best of you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Lord Wysaro!” they shouted in unison.
As the students returned to their practice, I walked deeper into the city. The color schemes of the houses changed from one neighborhood to the next, and there were often guard towers at the places where the different areas met. I wondered if these were the territories of clans, like the Wysaro I had seen training together, or if there were other divisions at play. One thing was clear—this was not a city at peace with itself.
Alone and lost, I figured I’d start looking for places of interest. Driven by instinct rather than design, I found myself at a great crossroads near the river, where a bridge of pale stone stretched out across the fast-flowing water. The place was bustling with people, from merchants leading donkeys and driving waggons to monastic-looking figures in blue robes with shaved heads. Here, signs pointed to different parts of the city, directing travelers to their destinations.
Looking up at one of the signs, I saw symbols both similar to and different from those in the Himalayan temple. To my surprise, I realized that I understood what they meant. Still acting on instinct, I decided to follow the road to the Ember Cavern.
The road took me out of the crowded heart of the city toward a less intensely occupied area of large, low, pale houses in the shadow of the mountain. As I made my way up the street, I was surprised to find a locked gate and half a dozen armed guards blocking the way.
“Where do you think you’re going?” one of the guards asked, glaring at me.
“To see the Ember Cavern,” I replied.
“Yeah, right.” The guard looked me up and down. “Dressed like that, I reckon you belong at the Unwashed Temple.”
The rest of the guards laughed, and he pointed along the foothills of the mountain.
Again with the bullies. But it was one thing to fight rogues on the road, quite another to fight guards in a crowded city.
“Thank you.” I bowed my head.
I clenched my jaw after I turned in the direction the guard had pointed. The guards laughed some more, and my nails bit into my palms as I clenched my fists. Why did I bow to that idiot? It had been a reflex, and now, I was regretting it. Surely, he wouldn’t have attacked me if I’d failed to give him a show of respect, but maybe it had been wiser to do so.
I walked down a long street until the houses ended amid increasingly steep hills and rocky outcrops. There, the peak of a curved roof protruded from the landscape of rocks and trees.
A roof just like the Himalayan temple back on Earth.
Chapter Three
My feet were filthy and aching from walking barefoot for miles along dirt streets and rock-strewn tracks, but I didn’t care. The sight of something familiar, even something as strange as the temple, lifted my spirits. I was still confused about where I was and uncertain about what the future held, but now, I had something to anchor my thoughts, some direction to head in.
I quickened my pace
