Eight 5.36: More Than One Knife

Yuki’s voice wove through the rhythm of the fight, guiding the cadence of attacks, feints, and withdrawals. At the speed we were going, there was no time for complete thoughts, so they moved at the speed of reflex, of instinct, and of a network overclocked by the hidden mind’s influence.

So when Baxta grew two new arms, we adapted. Yuki highlighted the one true attack hidden among the other false ones. And when Baxta switched to a style that focused on many small cuts attacking in waves, Yuki found paths to keep me from being overwhelmed, all while also directing Fala and the Deer God in undermining Baxta’s assault.

We pressured the ghost and constrained him with our weapons, while the density of authority within the water increased. He would eventually have to stop holding back and use all his weapons, including the ones he kept hidden for emergencies. He’d reveal his hand, and then we’d reveal ours. That was how the game was played.

As the fight continued, Baxta grew another pair of arms, which would’ve been dumb if he’d been restricted to normal human biology. As a ghost, though, the appendages had effectively turned into tentacles tipped with a crystal-spear stingers.

Then, with a smirk, the level of his skill increased, like a fencer switching hands mid-fight and claiming that he was in fact not left-hand, after all, and had been merely toying with us before. In this case, Baxta was apparently ambidextrous across all six arms.

The fight had been a roving one to begin with, yet now it really began to move. When he focused on one of us, his arms set up defenses to keep the others from interfering. Evading his attacks required bigger and more exaggerated dodging.

Yuki repeatedly nudged the fight toward the glowing pool of water. Baxta forced us to angle away every time we came close.

The fortress suddenly shook as if battered by a giant’s fist. Seizing the moment of distraction, I grabbed hold of the water and shot it toward where we fought, spreading it like a net to completely encapsulate Baxta’s ghost.

I saw it as if in slow motion: The face he wore fell away, as malleable as the rest of his body. Underneath, he looked the same but sterner. I was bug in his eyes; we were all insects barely worthy of his notice. The mask gone, I realized he hadn’t been distracted at all.

Baxta moved the crystal spears so that they formed a circle around his body from his feet to his head. Just as the water was about to reach him, it lost coherence, splashing to the ground; Fala’s knife clattered onto the stone, her body ejected out of it; and the Deer God was forced out of the herd.

All our talents were nullified.

With the ease and boredom of long practice, a hidden pair of arms shot from Baxta’s chest to spear me, carving through Tenna’s Gift to strike me in the belly.

The world flipped upside down. Colors inverted, then ran in streaks as I felt myself falling upward. The next thing I knew, I stood in the middle of a path.

The last time I’d been here, it was for the spirit journey that had unlocked my magic ability. What was new this time was that the path was paved in a mixture of granite blocks and river stones, illustrating a repeating pattern of waves along the shore. Every twenty yards, a waist high post was embedded in the ground alongside the path. A candle stone burned dimly atop each one.

A dark forest bounded the path on both sides, the trees bent and menacing. Whispering shapes hid among their shadows. Motes of darklight floated in the air, even though none of the branches swayed. There wasn’t a lick of wind in the place.

A glint of silverlight flared, then disappeared, swallowed by the dark.

I heard the soft sound of steps behind me, and when I turned, I saw the Deer God approaching. His antlers bathed the nearby forest in the green of a healthy meadow. A moment later, Fala also appeared on the path, jogging from around a bend in the path.

“We’re here,” I said, my voice coming out a whisper.

Even with all our planning, there was no way we could’ve anticipated every scenario. We’d known there’d come a point when we’d have to adapt and improvise, especially once Baxta decided to reveal his hidden knives. The possibility of me being forced out of my body had come up, but not in this particular way and certainly not with Fala present.

She came to a stop and signed, “As soon as you were struck, I felt our connection shake and I was pulled along.” Fala pointed toward the way she’d just come from. “The path to my soul’s bastion is clear.”

“Then Baxta must be up ahead,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Fala gestured and the obsidian knife appeared in her hand. She called again, and the magic dagger I’d traded to her years ago appeared in the other.

As for me, I sensed a connection to Princess Lily. The bow was a part of me like none of my other weapons were, and I drew her out of myself until she rested in my hands, already strung and ready to fight. A quiver arrows, fletched in orange turkey feathers, came with her.

The Deer God tipped his antlers to indicate he was ready, so I led the way, taking off at a steady run. We’d barely gotten into the rhythm of it, though, before we arrived—maybe a hundred yards, if I was measuring physical distances.

I spotted Baxta standing in front of a doorway. His posture was one of thoughtful consideration as he examined the weapons blocking the way to the glade ahead. The sharp ends of a spear, a knife, and three arrows glinted wickedly in the light.

He turned, and I noticed a thin cut under his left eye. A drop of blood had trailed down his cheek and hung from his chin. He seemed unsurprised to see us; his response was a light sigh. Then, his expression deadened, as if a thousand years of boredom had been hiding inside him and it now found a way to crawl out onto his face.

Not even the sight of the obsidian knife in Fala’s possession seemed to interest him. He gestured, and a crystal spear fell into his hand. He walked forward like this was any other mundane moment, mowing the lawn or taking out the trash.

But you know, he should’ve been paying more attention. In that place, there were no talents, no magics, and no authorities. The only power was in the strength of your soul and your alignment with universal truths. Even one’s skill at arms was an illusion—it only became real when there was a bond with the weapon, when that connection reflected the sweat involved, and when the labor led to learning about yourself and the world.

I drew the bow and shot an arrow at Baxta. He saw the movement coming, dodged to the left to also avoid being gored by the Deer God, and used his spear’s length to keep Fala at bay. That one opening engagement told us everything we needed to know; I felt myself and my allies settle in.

The Deer God stepped in to take the lead, his antlers tangling Baxta’s spear. The air rang with the sound of the two weapons striking each other. The ground trembled with the impact.

Fala used the opportunity to dart in and out with her knives. The cuts left behind were shallower than expected. Once she was clear, I shot at Baxta once more, this time specifically at his eyes. He ducked out of the way, which forced him to change his line of sight.

Both the Deer God and Fala attacked again. There was no twisting out of the way, though, and an antler tine tore a chunk from Baxta’s right shoulder. Yet, he still looked bored, as if this was an everyday occurrence for him. The damage would’ve alarmed most people, but not Baxta—he kept fighting, the injury not hindering him.

I drew the bow and aimed for a heart shot, but he twisted to let the arrow pass by, then circled to put the Deer God between us. I knelt and shot again, this time between my ally’s legs. Baxta didn’t see the arrow coming; it blew through his right knee.

He circled once more, so that he could keep me in his view. Meanwhile, Fala had gone in and out, in and out, leaving cuts along his arm and his already-injured shoulder. Baxta glanced at her in annoyance; his spear swept to clear the space around him.

The Deer God caught it in his antlers and cranked it free from Baxta’s hands. A toss sent the spear flying into the trees where it disappeared in the darkness.

For the first time, I think, Baxta genuinely blinked. The boredom faded, and he looked at the Deer God as if he was a foe worthy of his attention. A new crystal spear appeared in his hands—he likely had five based on what we saw from the fight’s previous phase—but it was already too late by then.

Baxta had shown his hand; his secrets had been exposed. And we, meanwhile, had more than one knife hidden away. Normally, that would’ve meant my allies tucked in their secret places, ambushing our opponents. Or our unparalleled ability to gather intelligence. Or even something as straightforward as the unheard-of capacities of our mana and qi wells—they were enough to win most fights.

None of those knives were relevant in that deeply spiritual place, but what was, were the connections between the souls of me and mine. Those existed both inside and outside the framework of the World Spirit.

So, when the Deer God attacked next, the weight of his power was sent to me instead, and when I shot my arrow, I passed it along to Fala. She who’d only inflicted scratches up to that point. Fala, my beloved, upon whose stones the path between our souls had been paved.

Baxta twisted to let the obsidian knife graze him. Instead, the empowered cut nearly sliced him in two.

Immediately, the Deer God pounced and Baxta’s torso to the ground. The glow of his antlers intensified, as I took the power back from Fala and sent it to him, reinforced with my own determination to force the enemy into the cycle of rebirth.

Baxta screamed—I damn well heard him—a wail that would’ve caused my toes to curl if I’d had them. He struggled and he raged, but the Deer God had had a lot of practice recently at containing spirits within that cage of his. He had Baxta’s own techniques for draining that resistance and using the energy to reinforce the binding. Meanwhile, Fala used the obsidian knife to butcher his lower half, starting at the joints like he was prey that we’d hunted.

None of this was planned. There’d been no way we could’ve conceived we’d be in this exact situation, but we’d had ages, both waking and asleep, to train together. We knew each other like family. Like a good family with bonds of trust and care between them.

So, as Fala cut chunks from Baxta’s spirit, I drew back enough of my will to send them onward. Those sections of his spirit simply dissipated like vapor absorbed by the air.

The rage in his eyes turned into horror, and his resistance grew more frenzied. A reddish tinge became visible along the Deer God’s antlers. But who was the earth spirit, for how long had he been alive, maintaining the natural order of things?

Really, Baxta should’ve been more careful. The Deer God took hold of the power intruding into his antlers, decayed it like mushrooms would a dead tree, and made it his own.

Fala walked over and began to saw free the parts of Baxta’s spirit that stuck out from between the tines. I followed, cleaning up right after. His fingers, his hands, his forearms—over time, we diminished him, and he became less and less.

Eventually, Baxta’s howls stopped. His mouth continued to be open in a horrified rictus, but he no longer had the power to overwhelm the silence. We redoubled our efforts.

The three of us pushed, and Baxta disappeared in a flash of green light. A way into the next world had opened, and he’d been pulled inside. I didn’t see who did it or what waited for him on the other side. What I had noticed, however, was that the usual sense of welcoming and consolation had been missing.

Carefully, Fala and I stood to search the area. “Give us a moment,” I said to the Deer God, and he nodded in reply, holding his antlers in place in case Baxta had faked his release into the next world.

Time didn’t mean anything in the space between souls, so we took our time, but there really was no sign of the enemy.

I gestured to the Deer God to let him know that he could release the cage. “He’s gone, I think.”

The light along his antlers dimmed, and he raised his head. None of celebrated, but instead we waited, just in case. After a while, nothing continued to happen.

Eventually, Fala smiled, and I couldn’t help laughing. Even the Deer God huffed in pleasure.

We’d done it. Baxta wouldn’t be able to threaten Diaksha anymore.