Wysaro City lay in the foothills of the range, protected by thick stone walls and the natural barrier of the mountain behind it. Pagoda roofs of carved terracotta stretched up toward the sky to catch the sun. Even from this high up, I could see the sun reflecting off the steel of the sentry’s helmets as they stood to attention at the walls.
Rice farms spilled outward from the city in carved steppes and filled the valley floor with lush greens and blues. Smaller shrines and houses clustered around the farms, marking the border between the rice fields and the thick trees of Danibo Forest.
I let my gaze slide across the valley and found Wysaro Castle standing near the entrance. Age-old stone walls surrounded the mighty fortress, and huge banners bearing the clan’s red eagle danced in the wind above its tallest towers.
Vesma bumped my elbow and let out an amused laugh. “It’s like you’ve never seen it before.”
“I don’t think I have, not like this.”
“It’s pretty enough, I suppose.” She grimaced and shook a stone out of her sandal. “I was hoping the paths would be a little smoother than this. It makes Scorched Pass look simple by comparison.”
I recalled the small pass that we had taken to get through to the Diamond Coast. “We’ll have to deal with it. I want to get to the monastery before midnight.”
Vesma tilted the map and appraised it with a practiced eye. “We can make it.”
“Keep me posted,” I said.
I squeezed her shoulder affectionately. Vesma hummed in response and joined Kegohr at the head of our party. I slowed my pace a little and filtered through the group until I was right at the back. Yono chuckled as I brushed my fingers against the handle of the Depthless Dream.
“That tickles,” she murmured. “How may I be of service, Master?”
“What can you tell me about the monastic traditions in the Seven Realms?”
“Hmm,” Yono mused. “It has been some time since I’ve heard them mentioned, but I see from your thoughts that they are very much a reality in the currents of your fate.” The Water Spirit paused for a moment. “They were, as Kumi told you, the caretakers of the Temple of the Deep. My home, after a fashion, for many centuries. Their superiors occasionally spoke to me, but they never took me up against their foes.”
“Why not?” I asked, surprised.
“I believe one of them explained it as the shameful use of a holy relic,” Yono said with a hint of mischief. “I have no problems with being used, Master, but the right hand must wield me if I am to fully cooperate with their pathways.”
“So, how did they fight their foes if not with water Augmentation?” I asked.
Yono hesitated. “They had their own ways, Master. As I’m sure you’ll learn. Their understanding of Augmentation far outshines even my knowledge of the subject. An ocean cannot possibly be contained by a puddle, after all.”
I tried to press her, but Yono left me with that thought and drifted back into the murky parts of my mind to rest. The Immense Blades held power and knowledge far beyond my own, but Yono seemed convinced that these long-lost monks held power even greater than hers. The thought filled me with excitement as I trudged up the mountain path. What kinds of things could I accomplish with Xilarion’s strength and focus? He had been trained by these monks, so, with their help, his skills and experience could be mine.
I tracked the progress of the sun as the day went on. When we reached a small plateau, I called everyone to halt. Kegohr passed around provisions while the others sat for a hard-earned rest. I took a small bun of steamed bread wrapped in a cloth and picked out a seat at the edge of the stony platform overlooking the valley. As I chewed, I drew the Sundered Heart and rested it across my knees. The blade glittered in the midday sun as I tapped a rhythm on it. Nydarth moaned appreciatively as I reached out to find her in the depths of my thoughts.
“You take me to the loveliest places,” she observed.
At the edge of the forest, I recognized a small temple. It looked exactly like the Himalayan temple I had visited on my last day on Earth. But this was the Unwashed Temple, the place where I had first met Tolin. The old caretaker had been the first to teach me about Augmenting, and I had to admit I missed him, even his snide remarks.
A flood of nostalgia washed over me while I munched on the loaf and washed it down with water Kumi had taken from one of the mountain streams. My first few months in the Seven Realms had been spent cleaning and repainting the Unwashed Temple. The building looked like a matchbox from here, but I would have recognized the place anywhere.
“Remember the attack in the temple on Earth?” I asked Nydarth as her sword sat across my lap. “Way before the Seven Realms? When you first spoke to me?”
“Of course, Master,” she purred. “You were younger and weaker then.”
“It seems like years ago,” I said.
“You’ve grown. Just as I knew you would. You took to this world, learned its secrets, and never ceased your quest for power and knowledge. You gained my allegiance, and even that of Yono and Choshi. We serve only those with the potential for great power and the ability to free us, however briefly, from our homes within these tools.”
“And I’ve only just scratched the surface. The monks have knowledge that has been lost for centuries. The kind of knowledge that even you can’t teach me.”
Nydarth sniffed. “Our power is different than yours, Master. We understand the raw element that you seek to use in combat, and how to best twist it to serve you. Our knowledge of Augmentation is vast, but even then, we are no longer
