It took almost a tenday to wrap up the situation in Libeo Wan [lee-BEH-oh WAHN] (Riverbend) after the deaths of the warlords and the disarming of their forces, restoring order and some semblance of proper government. Inevitably, Edain’s true identity soon became widely known and the townspeople looked to him for leadership… it made him uncomfortable, but he nonetheless undertook what he saw as his moral duty with care and thoughtfulness. The rest of the Wanderers pitched in, of course, and the love the people felt for them, given their role in freeing the town, made it easier to bring order back.
Khatia was perhaps the busiest of the companions, training those of the former conscripts who wished to serve as the nucleus of a new City Guard. Snow Crow entertained often, his gifts raising the morale of the citizenry… both publically and privately. Viroj aided the priest of the local temple, once he was freed from the usurpers’ imprisonment, both in recovering his health and seeing to the spiritual needs of the people. Sujia, of course, stuck to Edain’s side like a shadow, proving very adept as his aide de camp.
When things began to settle down Edain, as the Pona Hanni [POE-nah hah-NEE], was urged by the town leaders to travel to the provincial capital of Kirai’an [keer-EYE-ahn] to lend his voice and reputation to the telling of the tale and to Libeo Wan’s request for aid and guidance. The remainder of the marauding mercenaries were still wandering the countryside and, while now headless, yet posed a threat to the peace and safety of the land.
So it came to pass that Edain and his companions traveled by boat with the town’s official delegation down the River Anaruqin [ahn-ARE-oo-kin], the Mother River, to Kirai’an. The journey was actually rather relaxing, three days of doing little more than enjoying the scenery as it flowed past. On arrival, however, once lodgings were secured, the next several days were more hectic, spent testifying before and in consultation with the provincial magistrate. This was a harried man named Chongji Háo [chong-gee HOW]. He had been trying to keep the province running ever since the unforeseen (but not entirely unwelcome) death of Lord Yagimashi [yah-ghee-MAH-she], and was grateful to find at least part of his troubles had been removed by the events at Libeo Wan.
Once the man had been brought up to speed Edain finally felt his duties had been discharged, and he withdrew himself from the matter, retiring back into his incognito as much as possible. Which, given the gossip spreading like wildfire throughout the larger town, wasn’t very much. Still, he tried, and his companions did their best to keep the illusion of Honorable Shanxia alive.
Despite this, as the Wanderers contemplated their next move, a runner found them in the common room of their inn, bearing an urgent request for the Pona Hanni. Edain was asked to visit an ailing priest who lay in a local hospice. He was very old, and very ill, the young messenger explained, and surely had little time left… would not the Holy One deign to grant the man his last wish for a private interview? With a sigh, and the vision of his mother’s tight, smug expression of disgust at his easy acquiescence, he agreed.
The hospice was a rambling collection of buildings near the river, set in pleasant park-like grounds, and the room he was led to had a large window overlooking a maze of rhododendrons, only just beginning to show the buds that would eventually turn to a riot of color as the spring progressed. A very elderly man lay in the lone bed, and beneath the blankets that swathed him, Edain could see his body was twisted and crippled by arthritis, which had bent his back and contorted his hands and feet into gnarled uselessness. Pain lines etched his seamed face, but despite that Zun Zhe Yi’s [zoon-shey YEE] expression was calm and accepting.
“I am 117 years old, Blessed One,” he said with a smile, once Edain had bowed and introduced himself, “and not long for this world if the Immortals are at all merciful. But before I depart this plane, I have one last duty I must discharge, and you are the only hope I can see in the growing darkness around me. But before I ask this thing of you, I must tell you something of my past, of my family’s history, and of the tragedy that has brought me to this point…
“It might be difficult to tell by looking at the wreck of my body now, but I am not Kyenii… I was born, long ago, in southern Pandari. It was a time of war between that land and its mighty southern neighbor Kindashi – but really, when is there not conflict between those two? My grandfather was Jixia Yi [gee-SHE-ah YEE], the great warrior whose legendary deeds are known from Kindashi to Ty Kyen even in these later days.
“But in that time when my tale begins he was growing old, and the call to battle had faded in him. After the death of his only son in some pointless battle, he decided to be quit of it all. He gathered up his widowed daughter-in-law and his two grandchildren (myself and my older sister) and took us north, through the mountain passes and into Ty Kyen. Here he sought the most peaceful place he could find, finally settling us all in the ancient village of Songxi [song-SHE], in the heart of Zhú Hai [zhoo-HIGH], the great Bamboo Sea.
“There we were accepted, even welcomed, and soon began to put down roots. In time my grandfather moved on from this mortal coil, and in his passing left a great gift to the village temple. His bequest had a single condition: that I be accepted as an acolyte and the guardian of his gift. So it was that I began my religious calling at age 17, and accepted the guardianship of Tiankong Zhiren [tee-AHN-kong SHEER-ehn] the Sky Blade, great heirloom of my family, until such time as one worthy of wielding it should be found.
“The Sky Blade was made from iron that fell from the sky, forged by the legendary Ty Kyen smith Lian Gongren [lee-AHN gohn-GREHN], during his time in exile. It was gifted to my grandfather when he was young by the Great Mogul Mizu Fahn of Pandari, in payment for his heroic defense of the Royal Family in their direst need. Supernally sharp, with an edge that never nicks nor dulls, the black blade can cut through almost any armor, save perhaps that of the dragons, and it soon became a part of his own growing legend.”
The old man had to pause for a moment to gather his breath, and he motioned at the pitcher of water at his bedside table. Edain poured a cup, and then held it to Zun Zhe Yi’s lips when he realized how difficult it would be for those twisted hands to hold the vessel. Once his thirst was slaked and his breath recovered, the old priest continued.
“For a hundred years now, that blade has rested in the stewardship of the temple of Songxi. I was never of a martial bent myself, as my grandfather well knew, nor were either of my daughters as the years went on. My oldest grandson showed some promise as a warrior, and I thought perhaps he would be the one to again take up the Sky Blade… but he died young, and it was not to be. My youngest grandson, Leping [leh-PING], has followed in my footsteps, and as my acolyte has taken on the guardianship of the blade… perhaps if his wife, Duan [doo-AHN] bears him a son…
“But no, that is just the maunderings of an old fool… for both my grandson and his wife are certainly dead now, as are all the people of peaceful, isolated Songxi. For you see, five years ago, there was a terrible disaster…
“The small river of Zhú nu [zhoo-NEW] runs through Songxi, and by Imperial edict a dam was constructed much farther upstream, in an attempt to created and irrigate new farmland… many felt this was… well, one does not say foolish when speaking of the Imperial mandate… let us say rather, not fully considered. The Bamboo Sea exists for a reason, and is not easily pushed back… but in any case, the damn was built, land was cleared and terraced, and peasants were being moved in to farm the new area.
“But something went terribly wrong. I was away the night it happened, having been brought here in the hopes of finding a physician who might ease the pain of my worsening condition – I was not then as crippled as you see me now, but was well on my way. Even our local sorceress had proved unable to help me, being more versed in the magics of water and cold than in the healing arts.
“Three nights after my departure… the Imperial Engineering Corp has remained strangely silent… but apparently the new dam failed, completely and spectacularly. All that the Imperials have ever said is that a wall of water roared down the river valley in the small hours of that spring night, and Songxi was washed away, utterly destroyed. To be sure, everyone would have been asleep at that hour… all must have perished indeed, for no word has ever come to me of any survivor in the years since.
“After a time, as my grief grew less overwhelming, I realized I still had a responsibility to undertake, and I eventually sent agents to recover the Sky Blade, if such was possible. Three times I sent groups, and three times they failed to return… nor have I heard of anyone who has actually seen the ruins of my old home, and that seems passing strange to me.
“An Imperial Edict quickly declared the area “a monument to those who tragically perished” and discouraged any travel there… for a time, Imperial Rangers actually patrolled to keep people out, turning away any who would travel to Songxi. Three years ago they were withdrawn, however, and now fear and superstition keep most away. The Imperial attempt to cover up their mistake has apparently succeeded… it seems to me that most people have forgotten that Songxi ever existed.”
This thought seemed to deeply sadden the old man, and for a moment he seemed lost in renewed grief. But then he visibly shook off the mood and continued his tale.
“But I have not forgotten Songxi, nor have I forgotten my duty to my family legacy and to my temple. Something strange has clearly happened, something the Imperial government wants to ignore. I cannot ignore it, nor my duty, yet I have feared to send more good souls into… whatever awaits there in the heart of the Bamboo Sea. But now, at my final extremity and just as I feared I would die with my duty unfulfilled, YOU arrive – avatar of an Immortal, with skilled men and women at your side, surely the Pona Hanni can succeed where others have failed!
“Please, Holy One, will you and your companions not undertake to travel into the Bamboo Sea, to whatever ruins remain of lost Songxi, and recover the Sky Blade of my great ancestor? And if you can do that, perhaps you can end whatever curse seems to haunt the place, as well…”
“I will speak to my companions, venerated elder,” Edain said after a moment of thought. “For the most part they travel with me at their own pleasure, and I do not compel them. But your story has moved me, as I think it will move them, and I have little doubt they will agree to accompany me on this honorable task. In any case, I at least will travel to your lost home and attempt to recover your legacy…”