Chapter 321

This chapter isn't edited and the conclusion isn't written, mostly because I hated what I had and deleted it. There's still a bit more to cover in the ch, but here's what I got so far.

Enjoy!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kBvbXinLU9rM6IY7i5iCkXdW5BjNZuCkDafDYHL4X8U/edit?usp=sharing

Letting loose with a piteous moan, Mila prayed for a merciful end to her inhuman suffering. Cursing the twisted mind which devised this harrowing machine, she tried to ease her misery by rocking back and forth in her chair, but failed miserably and made things worse. Stomach lurching in protest, she reached for her bucket, clutched it to her chest and peered into the darkness of its disgusting depths, wondering if she still had anything left to offer it.

She soon discovered she most definitely did. Bile and water mostly, and it pained her to think of what else.

“Papa,” she cried, after the vomiting stopped. “You’re a liar! You said the worst has passed, that this was almost over. Why is it over yet Papa? Why isn’t it over...”

She went on like this for some time before Papa finally answered, occupied as he was with his own torment. “Not long now lass,” he croaked, voice husky and weak. “Stay strong my sweet, we can make it through – Urg.... blarggggh... get through this... Stay strong...”

Tears dripping down her face, Mila gazed upon Papa’s shrunken form laid out across the bed, his head strategically hanging over a bucket of his own. Drifting in and out of consciousness, Papa still had the mind to mumble encouragement and platitudes to try and to ease her suffering. It hurt so much to see him like this, so weak and vulnerable, not at all like his usual vigorous and robust self. Although Mama was the famed warrior of their family, Papa was no less impressive in Mila’s eyes, her jolly, good-natured, imperturbable protector. Whether it be sheltering her from Mama’s more ambitious training exercises or beating a spoiled young noble and would-be rapist to death, Mila could always count on her Papa to take care her.

Until now. Nothing could save them from this abominable affliction, so Mila waited for the warm embrace of the Mother.

Whimpering for someone to come save her, Mila wept and hugged her bucket, long since desensitized to the awful smell. With both of them struck down by the same calamity, father and daughter had suffered side by side for nine days and today was the tenth. Sweet freedom lay so close, yet seemingly so far out of reach, Mila feared she wouldn’t survive to make it. Just staying upright in her chair took everything she had, and only knowing how much worse things would get if she laid down kept her conscious. Even closing her eyes made her head spin, so she stared out the tiny, opened window to their cabin room and focused on the horizon, the only thing she found which could ease her misery.

This wasn’t right... No one should be treated this way, not even the worst of criminals, and Mila was far from one. Were she to slip back through time and do this again, she would’ve broken out before the first day – no, the first hour had passed and ridden home. The flimsy wooden door was nothing to her, but now, after so many days of anguish and misery, she was weak as a day-old kitten and in no condition to walk, much less run.

Humans were not meant to travel on boats.

How anyone could stand the constant lurching was a complete mystery. The Captain and their sailors were no help, telling Mila she’d ‘get her sea legs’ soon enough, nothing but cruel lies and sadistic deceit, offering her a strand of hope where none existed. Were it not for Papa suffering beside her, Mila would have long since suspected this was all a cruel joke, with everyone hiding the remedy just so they could watch her suffer. Oh how she wished it were true, for it meant the was a cure and she wouldn’t have to go through this a second time. Better to walk home, nay, better to die fighting against the Defiled than repeat this harrowing experience again, and if she had her way, no boat would ever travel on the open waters ever again.

If the need arose, Mila would even swear an Oath to the Heavens to avoid stepping foot on another floating wooden deathtraps of infirmity and nausea.

Slipping into peaceful oblivion, she came to as she was flung from her chair, tumbling across the cabin and coming to a stop in a corner. With her back on the floor and feet against the wall, she waited for her muscles to stop aching and the room to stop spinning before trying to stand, struggling to her feet and thanking the kind soul who thought to secure her vomit bucket while she slept, while simultaneous cursing that same person for putting it so damned far away. With her feet back on the floor and head right side up, Mila leaned heavily against the wall and dragged herself around the room, aiming for her bucket on the other side and praying she’d make it there before the nausea caught up and her vomiting began.

Again.

After a three, arduous, unsteady steps, she realized the deck no longer swayed beneath her feet, though her legs insisted otherwise. Unable to adjust to these new circumstances, she fell to her knees in a mixture of exhaustion and relief, mind reeling at the implications. If the deck wasn’t swaying, that meant the ship wasn’t moving, and if the ship wasn’t moving, that meant...

Oh thank the Mother! We’ve arrived! We made it!

Opening the door without so much as a knock, Tursinai’s smug grin made Mila want to backhand the former bannerman across the face. How dare she be so happy while Mila suffered so horribly? “Why hello there little Mila,” she said, striding past the kneeling Mila to place a basin of water on the table. “You’ll be delighted to hear we’ve made landfall and everyone is outside waiting to greet you, but we can’t have you go out looking like death warmed over.”

Tursinai must be a holy saint sent here by the Mother herself.

As the warm washcloth ran across her face, Mila sat listlessly on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you Tursi,” she cried, holding the older woman’s sleeve tight. “I’m sorry for every rude thing I’ve ever thought about you. I’m a horrible person, just horrible.”

Between her inability to keep food or liquid down and still spinning room, Mila was having a little trouble controlling her emotions.

“Hush now, little Mila,” Tursinai said, gingerly working at Mila’s crusted hair. “No need for thanks or apologies, just call me big sister once or twice.” Eyeing Papa, Tursinai bit her lip, sucked in her breath, and whispered, “I’d be even happier helping Papa over there, but I worry the Lieutenant General would not look kindly upon my actions. If you really want to thank me, then how about you sit tight while I give your Papa a wipe down, and we keep it as our little secret?”

After several minutes of inappropriate comments, Tursinai gave up on making Mila look presentable and carried her away. As they exited the ship’s interior and strode down the ramp, Mila gazed upon the almost endless stretch of sand and grass, celebrating her victory over death and having stable, stationary land beneath her feet. Resisting the urge to wriggle out of Tursinai’s arms and kiss the sand, she heard the sound of Lin’s excited cries and searched for her best friend’s face in the crowd of Sentinels. Wearing a laurel of flowers in her hair and a radiant smile, Lin looked lovely as a summer day as she ran towards them. “Mi-Mi! Mi-Mi! You’re finally here! There’s so much...” Mila’s heart broke as Lin crinkled her nose and skidded to a halt an arm’s length. Recoiling in visible disgust, she pinched her nose and exclaimed, “Ewwww Mi-Mi... So stinky. What happened?”

Laughing so hard she had to put Mila down, Tursinai rolled in the sand and cackled in delight, oblivious to the odd stares she attracted. Glaring at her supposed best friend while kneading the soft, wonderful sand, Mila blinked through her tears of joy or indignation and asked, “Is that how you greet me after all those weeks apart?” Everyone was staring now and like Lin, they all backed away. Mila couldn’t possibly smell that terribly, could she?

Scuffing her boot, Lin at least had the courtesy to look ashamed. “But Mi-Mi,” she said with an adorable pout, “you really do smell, ya?”

Contrary to Lin’s revulsion, Song, with her hair up in a braided bun and wearing a similar laurel of flowers atop her head, made her way over to Mila’s side without any hesitation, holding Mila close and smoothing her hair. “Thank you Song,” Mila said, leaning against her sister for both physical and emotional support. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sister.”

With a squeal of delight, Mila hugged Song as tight as she could, which was to say not tightly at all. “You mean it?”

Smiling beautifully, Song nodded with confidence. “Yes sister.” So wonderful, Song was finally opening up after all their time together. Strange how it took a month of separation to make it happen. “Mama went in to find Papa, but I suggest you take a bath before meeting her.”

Well... if Song said so then it must be true. Mila couldn’t remember bathing since her first day on a boat, which was ten vomit-filled days ago. Though they beached every night, after twelve or fourteen hours at sea, Mila was in no condition to do anything but collapse into a pile of tears and snot. At least Rain wasn’t here to see or smell her like this.

... Wait, why wasn’t Rain here to greet his betrothed? She missed him so much...

“Are you looking for hubby?” Patting the air by Mila’s cheek from as far away as possible, Lin puffed her cheeks up in distress. “He fell asleep an hour ago. He’s been acting so strangely lately, Mi-Mi... He’s being all mopey and scared, and he even took the bears away! He said I shouldn’t be so selfish and should learn to share...”

The rest of the night went by in a blur and in the blink of an eye, Mila found herself wrapped in a warm blanket and resting in a yurt. Basking in the cozy comfort of her cot, she drifted in and out of sleep for untold minutes, lazily putting of the new day until she could sleep no longer. Rising with a bone-cracking stretch, she arched her back and rejoiced at her complete and utter lack of queasiness. In fact, for the first time in days, she was actually hungry, her stomach rumbling in anticipation of a well-deserved feast. Throwing on the first clean outfit she found, she ambled out of the yurt to greet the day, shielding her eyes from the bright afternoon sun as she took in the majestic blue skies and verdant green grass.

And the magnificent, menacing turtle napping not two meters away.

Even at rest, the formidable creature exuded an air of vigour and majesty, power and fortitude given form. A self-proclaimed emperor of her domain, the Guardian Turtle of Ping Yao lay perfectly still, relaxed and unafraid despite the bustling crowd around her. Her smooth, leathery skin looked soft to the touch, shimmering in the light with a beautiful moss-green hue. As Mila drew close, the turtle’s eyes shoot open to inspect the unfamiliar intruder, with the sun in perfect position to reveal a lustrous golden gleam in her dark, fathomless eyes. Tilting her head in a strangely human fashion, the turtle squeaked in delight and stretched its neck to nuzzle Mila in a gentle, loving manner.

Giggling in delight, Mila wrapped her arms as far as they could go around the turtle’s beak, treating the affectionate creature to a hug. “Why hello there,” she crooned, nuzzling with a turtle large enough to swallow her whole. “You must be Ping-Ping. I’m Mila, nice to meet you.”

“So you’re the little scamp’s daughter.” The gruff, unfamiliar voice made Mila jump in fright, and she turned about to find an older gentleman lounging in the grass nearby. Wearing a wide-brimmed, conical hat and a ragged tunic, the stranger puffed on an exquisitely crafted pipe and studied her with his piercing brown eyes. With the ghost of a sneer pasted across his face, he blew out a cloud of white, wispy smoke, pungent and unpleasant to the nose.

Despite his rough exterior and atrocious habit, Mila instantly felt drawn to the older man when she spied his floofy, ringed red panda tail thrashing behind him. Finally, after all these years, Mila had found a half-brother, though judging by his silver eyebrows and beard, he was a much, much, much older half-brother, one almost at the end of his natural lifespan. Barely able to contain her excitement, Mila gracefully overlooked his jab at Mama or Papa and bowed in greeting. “This one is Sumila, Disciple of Akanai, Student to Husolt, sister of Li Song and Captain of the Sentinels. How might I address you, good sir?”

“Well, well, well,” the stranger said, sitting a little straighter as he put his pipe aside. “At least the little scamp taught her daughter manners. This lord is Guan Suo of the Protectorate, guardian to... Ping-Ping.”

The last was said with a sigh, but Mila was too busy trying not to lose her temper. How dare he call Mama ‘little scamp’? Just because he’s older than her doesn’t mean he can look down on her. Hmph, if Mila still didn’t need to question him, she’d give him an earful, half-brother or not. Best to get straight to the point before she lost her temper. “Greetings, Guan Suo. As you can probably tell, in all likelihood the two of us share a... progenitor. I was wondering if you’ve ever met him or her, and if you have, if you could tell me where?”

“Oh?” Raising one long, bushy eyebrow, the old man asked, “The little scamp never told you about your parentage?”

“I know no scamp and my parents are Akanai and Husolt,” Mila corrected, a little more curtly than intended. “But no, they’ve never told me about the people who conceived me.”

“Feisty little cub aren’t you?” Rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug, Guan Suo settled back against his clump of dirt and stroked his beard. “Fair enough, I’ll give you that, but if you feel so strongly about the subject, then why even seek out your... progenitor?”

Her patience slipping, Mila wondered if the old codger even had an answer to give her, but she persisted nonetheless. “I have something important he or she needs to hear.”

“A message?” Amused, he smiled and asked, “And what, pray tell, would you give?”

This was all a game to him, making light of a matter which she held dear. Mila almost turned around to leave, but something in his eyes made her stay, a look which was more than just idle curiosity or callous humour, an almost intense need to know hidden beneath a veneer of indifference. Against her better judgment, Mila decided to be honest. “I would tell them who I am, a forgotten daughter who was abandoned and left to die. That I have two loving parents, a wonderful sister, amazing friends, and a valiant betrothed. That I am a warrior unmatched by my peers who at the age of twelve, tracked and killed a one-thousand year old carnugator by myself. I then used its hide to craft a Spiritual Weapon, the shield you see me carrying now, and at the age of eighteen, was Inspired by the Mother and attained the rank of Divine Blacksmith.” Taking a deep breath, Mila calmed her nerves before pressing on, holding back the flood of emotions welling up from within. “Most importantly, I would tell them that despite their best efforts, I have lived a life full of love and affection and that I am far better off without them.”

Staring off into the distance, Guan Suo stifled a yawn and asked, “Have you considered writing it down and presenting a letter instead? That was quite an earful.”

Grinding her teeth with an audible growl, Mila resisted the urge to rip his eyebrows clean off. “Can you. Direct me. To our progenitor?”

Instead of answering, the old man rolled his eyes and said, “I take it you don’t know much about Ancestral Beasts then. You’re upset over being abandoned as a child? Pei! You’re lucky you weren’t killed outright. Don’t go looking for sympathy from an Ancestral Beast. They might look human, but they’ll always be beasts at heart, a slave to their baser instincts. Despite all your skill and accomplishments, in the eyes of an Ancestral Beast, you’re nothing but a feeble, deficient failure, someone to whom death would be a mercy.” Shaking his head, Guan Suo sneered and added, “Some like to pretend and play human, but that’s all it is, a game. They’re creatures of the wild, and not even all the time in the world will tame them. Run along now, Sumila. Forget this idle fancy of speaking with your progenitor. Like you said, your parents are Akanai and Husolt. What more do you need?”

With that said, Guan Suo stood up and walked away, melting into the crowd of Sentinels before Mila’s eyes.