Wound of the Sky

As the storm's leading rains began to spatter the yard, Silver Peak seized me by the arm and pulled me out the back door. He seemed to know where he was going, and though I struggled to keep up, he dragged me roughly along. As we neared the crossroads at the edge of the village, I caught a glimpse of Master Winding Path, running down the road away from us, and into the storm. The hood of her cloak was pulled far forward against the winds, and a sword in a fine scabbard jostled at her side. I wanted to call out to her, but I did not dare to break my vow. She vanished into the gloom, and Silver Peak jerked me away onto a different path.

We hurried on, out of the village, then out onto the scorched flatlands beyond the furthest farms. In the open, the winds drove down mercilessly. The rain stung like needles, the hailstones bruised like blows from a rod, and the whole world seemed to disappear in a blind fury. Silver Peak shouted something urgently, but the tempest drowned him out. He abruptly changed our direction, and after a minute of blind stumbling, gargantuan shadows loomed up behind the curtains of rain. I realized then what place we had come to.

The stories say that dead peoples once fought the end of a war on this plain. Some even say it was a war to challenge the Bleak Ones themselves. The ancients wielded forces so terrible that, even today, the soil remembers: furrows made in the earth of that place do not heal. Great machines were built and destroyed, their workings forgotten, and their ruined hulks left to sleep on the badlands. It was one of these that Silver Peak had spotted in the gloom, offering shelter.

We reached the thing and found a place to huddle beneath its armored hull. It rattled deafeningly under the driving hail. Thunder roared. A long while pased. Silver Peak stared darkly.

At last, he said:

"It is your fault the master's magic did not work."

I felt a lump in my throat, but it was not the rising of a song. I began to sign a reply, but my hands trembled so badly that I could only lay them back in my lap. I stared into the floor and shook my head.

"Don't you dare deny it," Silver Peak pressed on. "It is your bad song that has haunted the valley since winter lifted, and it is your bad song that afflicts us now. I saw this day coming long ago. The master should have sent you away, to be with the other corrupted ones. It is a crime that she has allowed you to stay among us all these years. You should be ashamed."

I wondered if what he said might be true. The pain of it was so great that I forgot myself for a moment. I drew a breath, and opened my mouth to speak.

Silver Peak started violently back. I could not tell whether he was about to flee or strike me. Before he could do either, the rain outside abruptly stopped.

Realizing what I had almost done, I clapped one hand over my mouth, and signed a hasty apology with the other. Outside, the wind began to change direction, and a faint light returned to the sky. Silver Peak scowled. He studied me for a long moment, muttered a sutra to himself, then ducked outside. I started after him.

"This is where we part ways," he called over his shoulder. "Where I am going, you must not follow."

My heart sank. I still ached with the sight of Master Winding Path disappearing into the storm. I was not looking forward to travelling with Silver Peak, but I did not want to be left all alone. Plucking up my courage, I ran after him and blocked his path.

"I am Master Winding Paths' disciple too," I signed urgently. "Where could you possibly go that I cannot follow?"

Silver Peak looked grimly into the receding storm, and was silent for a long time. At last, he leaned in close, and murmured numbly into my ear:

"Wound of the Sky."

A chill passed through me. Wound of the Sky loomed up from the deep of my imagination. It was a place about which people told stories, but it was not a place that people ever went. I did not even know that people could go there, any more than they could visit the heavens or the hells.

Cautiously, I signed:

"Has the master gone to confront a demon?"

I immediately felt childish for asking such a thing. Silver Peak, though, gave me a very serious look. Cautiously, he nodded.

"That is close to the truth," he said. "But Master Winding Path has not gone to the realm of demons. Wound of the Sky is not one of the hells; it was built. Long ago, in the time when they made the clouds into names, and the winds into voices, the Bleak Peoples created the Wound, as a testament to their own power."

A strange thrill passed through me as I tried to understand: Wound of the Sky was built. I thought of the great armored things scattered across the valley, and tried to imagine something even greater. I could not.

Silver Peak seemed to read something on my face that he did not like. He scowled, and wagged his finger.

"The Bleak Peoples may as well have been demons. Their power was surpassed only by their gluttony for more. Their very words overturned the seasons, and drank the oceans. Their stories wrenched apart hot from cold, and sun from rain. Their dreams still darken our skies, and even generations later we live on in the shadow of their nightmares."

"But what happened to them?" I signed back.

Silver Peak turned his head, and spat.

"They emptied their diseased imaginations over the face of the earth," he said bitterly. "Then, they tore the air asunder and went away beyond the winds, where nothing can reach them."

"If they are gone," I signed, "why would Master Winding Path need to go after them?"

Silver Peak shook his head.

"They are not gone," he said. "Not all of them. If they were, there would be no need for you to keep silent. Even with all their power, the Bleak Peoples were jealous of this world, and they never released it from their grip. Some still breathe on Wound of the Sky, for as long as their ancient songs carry. They raise their hymn on the wind when they breathe out, and once that wind has taken possession of someone," Silver Peak paused here, and narrowed his eyes at me, "that person's voice will take up the song, so that the Bleak Ones may breathe it in again. It is this bad magic that brings the storms. Master Winding Path has gone to silence its song, once and for all. I will follow her, because this task is too important to leave to chance."

"But," I protested, "I thought Master Winding Path told us to leave?"

Silver Peak bristled.

"I am your elder brother in the teaching," he snapped. "Are you questioning me?"

I thought of how Silver Peak had recoiled in that moment when I almost used my voice. I knew that he must feel afraid, like I did. I squared my shoulders to him, and tried to stand up tall.

"I am questioning you." I signed back. "You are disobeying the instructions Master Winding Path left us."

Silver Peak opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. He had always been too proud to tell a lie. Instead, he unslung the bag from his shoulder and pushed it into my arms.

"Here is food," he said, "and a map that will take you to where Master Winding Path sent us. If I am able, I will join you when the task is done."

Before I could sign my reply, he turned away and began to walk in the direction of Wound of the Sky.

I thought of what Silver Peak had said while we waited for the storm: "The master should have sent you away, to be with the other corrupted ones." Tears rolled down my cheeks. Even against the wishes of her most promising student, Master Winding Path had stood for me, and given me a home. I could not bring myself to abandon her to Wound of the Sky.

I shouldered the bag, and followed after Silver Peak. He glanced back in my direction and frowned, but did not try to stop me. I did not know how we would explain our disobedience to Master Winding Path, if we ever saw her again.