Chapter Text
The yaksha was unaccustomed to having spare time on his hands.
His god hasn’t given him an assignment; no villages to destroy, no gods to fight in his stead and no dreams to devour.
They had simply dismissed him with a snide remark about “taking a nice stroll in the woods” and explicit instructions not to get into a fight.
The yaksha had found this very odd but had known better than to comment on it. Killing things, preferably in an incredibly cruel manner was the main reason he had been chained to the god’s will, after all. But since questioning his god’s decrees usually only resulted in more suffering, he had simply inclined his head before taking his leave.
Usually, the yaksha would have racked his brain how to best circumvent this new order; minimizing the damage he was about to cause in whatever small way he could. Seeing how his main directive was to avoid fights, the yaksha would for the first and only time, wholeheartedly follow this order. That only left him with precious few options on where to spend his newfound spare time. Having been send out to cause widespread destruction throughout most of the land, showing so much as his face would likely only draw out soldiers, be they mortal or adepti, ready to brandish their weapons at him. Worse, it could even cause their patron deity to make an appearance, which would end terrible for the yaksha in more ways than one.
Bereft of any other options, the yaksha found himself in the marshes of Dihua Islet. It was a poor choice for a battlefield and an even worse one for a settlement, which meant it was mercifully deserted. The yaksha waded through the knee-high waters, gently pushing the reeds out of his way as he went. He had to take care not to wander too far south, lest he came to close to Guili Plains, where the stone god and the dust goddess resided. Occasionally he would stir up the odd frog or nesting bird, though most of them scurried away when they noticed him. Smart. Not for the first time the yaksha thought that animals often possessed far more common sense than most mortals. Though to be fair, these days most mortals likewise beelined towards the nearest form of sanctuary when they saw him.
After several miles of silent marching the yaksha eventually came to rest on a wide, flat surfaced rock, sitting cross-legged and tried to clear his mind of the shrieks, wails and cries of the lost souls that fell to his spear. He was only partly successful, but he was determined to make the most of it, for however long it was that his master would grant him these moments of respite.
A few weeks passed, when he heard his master's cold, high voice in his mind again, cutting any thoughts of peace to ribbons. It was longer than he had expected, though still shorter than he would have wished.
A foreboding smile played around their mouth, when he arrived, and there was a certain glint in their eyes that the yaksha could not place. Not for a moment did he think that was a good sign.
“Have you taken my advice to heart?”, they asked as though they were a healer that the yaksha had sought out with the complaint of an upset stomach. Advice they called it. As if he had any agency in the matter.
“Yes, master” No choice but to play along.
“Yes, you have”, they confirmed after examining him for a moment. “Good. I have a new assignment for you. One that requires the outmost discretion. You are swift and silent as the wind, but all that corruption you have amassed would have given you away in an instant.”
So, there was a reason for the master’s surprisingly lenient mood. Of course there was. The yaksha wasn’t surprised, not really, but he was mildly upset at himself that he couldn’t have seen it coming. Not that he could have changed whatever was to come, but perhaps he could have been better prepared.
“It had taken a good while, but I believe I have found a way to destabilize our latest threat.”
Ah, of course. This was about the stone-born god. Morax or whatever they called him. The yaksha hadn’t faced him on the battlefield before, but that was largely because even his master had quickly realized that this would have been a suicide mission. Morax had swiftly made a name for himself among the contenders for the Archon’s throne, and no god that squared up against him had lived to tell the tale.
So far, his master hadn’t been targeted by the stone god, mainly because while the master was undeniably cruel, they were no idiot. Bargaining was apparently Morax’s specialty and those that had thought to outwit him in that area quickly served as cautionary tales for other gods. The yaksha’s master had soon caught on and instructed him to always steer clear of the brute. When he had been ordered to attack settlements under Morax’s protection, the master had made sure of the stone god’s whereabouts and tersely ordered him to be swift and efficient about it. Those had been among the very few assignments where he had been specifically prohibited from unnecessary cruelty if it had drawn out the yaksha’s stay.
“We won’t defeat him on the battlefield, and we certainly won’t keep him at bay with one of those silly contracts.”
We might, if we had any intention whatsoever to keep that silly contract, the yaksha thought bitterly. Naturally he held his tongue. This wasn’t about peace, he knew, it was about dominion.
“This makes for a tricky situation. So, I thought, how to knock him off-balance? Take him down a peg? We may not need defeat him; we need just weaken him. Just enough for him to give us an opening. But how to weaken a rock? Quite the conundrum indeed.”
The yaksha ever so slightly bended his knees, to allow him to stand more comfortably. He may be here a while. The master quite liked to hear themself talk and when they got into one of those moods, they usually entailed long monologues about their own genius.
“It has taken quite a bit of time and research, but I dare say it was well worth it.”
The god went towards a little table near the wall and picked up something rather fragile looking. As they turned around the Yaksha saw it was a bow. He was a bit surprised at this. It looked almost as if it was made of glass with a lot of ostentatious decors added to it. The bowstring seemed like it would snap if you looked at it oddly. The arrows weren’t much better. Or arrow, as his master presented only one in their hand. It appeared to have been wrought from gold with a pristine glass-arrowhead. It was impractical to say the least. If the yaksha hadn’t known any better, he would have guessed that it was only for ceremonial use.
He knew it wasn’t the appropriate response for his master, but he couldn’t help but look at them with a puzzled expression.
“I apologize, lord, but I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Of course, you don’t, dear. It can’t be expected from a yaksha to be familiar with or appreciative of the ancient arts.”
He knew without looking that the master wore that smug farce of a smile again, pointed teeth on display, daring him to argue against them. The yaksha simply bowed his head. A moment later a theatric sigh followed.
“This bow is a relic. It belonged to a god, older even than myself, that has long since passed. You must exercise great care when handling it, dear, and even greater care when taking aim. Forging the arrow was a long and arduous task, not to mention imbuing it with the old god’s power. I shall be very upset should you waste your shot.”
A chill ran down the yaksha’s spine. While the master still spoke in a lofty conversational tone, it carried the promise of immense pain and suffering. And inflicting suffering on him usually meant inflicting suffering on countless innocents as well. The yaksha stood up straight again. He couldn’t afford to fail.
“I understand, master”
“Glad to hear that.”
The god continued to explain his task, which in itself was fairly simple: tail the stone god, wait for an opportune moment, shoot him with the impractical arrow whose purpose the master had still not deemed necessary to explain, then get out and get back to them. And above all: do not get caught. This last point they emphasized repeatedly; to a degree where the yaksha seriously contemplated how foolish the master thought him to be. Finally, the god placed the bow in the yaksha’s hands eyeing him suspiciously all the while. The bow was lighter than he expected, and an odd glow radiated from it. The yaksha still tried to avoid gripping it too tight. The arrow was handed over even more apprehensively; he did his best to bite back the impatience and simply snatch the arrow from his master’s hands.
“Well then, what are you loitering around here for? You have a task to complete.”, the god chided him, and it took all the yaksha had in him not to scoff at the deliberately unjust comment. They wouldn’t trip him up. He muffled a quick “Apologies, my lord” through gritted teeth, bowing his head ever so slightly before vanishing in a swirl of anemo. His master’s cruel chuckle still echoed in his ears regardless.
The yaksha re-appeared close to where he had been spending the last days meditating. The area was still mercifully devoid of human or adeptal activity. The small beasts now barely paid him any mind, having apparently recognized him and deemed him unthreatening. If only they knew. He waded to the shore, training his eyes on the distance where he knew the assembly laid. He could just about make out the walls of their fort, guarded by two warriors. At this distance, the yaksha couldn’t be sure if they were adepti or human, though he suspected the latter. Looking about he observed that the Guili Plains were, well, plain, which meant he couldn’t easily creep closer under the cover of tree foliage.
He debated changing into his avian form and circle the area from above but quickly decided against it. For one, his beast form wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, what with his long purple tailfeathers and golden wings. And given that he had to tail Morax specifically, it stood to reason that the stone god would quickly notice a phoenix-like bird flying above him. Even if he had a less noticeable form, he still had to keep his distance when circling the encampment, lest it aroused suspicion. And of course he couldn’t shoot the bow with his wings.
Ultimately the Yaksha decided that he had to wait out for nightfall until he could move closer. For once, he was in no hurry to act, as the master had made quite clear that precision was to take precedence over quickly completing the assignment. He did not remain idle, however. He etched as close to the settlement as he dared, where he was certain that he would not be seen. Constantly the yaksha checked for telltale elemental energy of other adepti: he was confident that the warrior god likely had more precautions than just human guards at the entrances. He made sure not to linger too much in one spot, lest his own adeptal energy accumulated there, giving him away to potential scouts who knew what to look for. Regrettably he could not turn invisible, but his great speed and anemo-affinity meant he was able to easily evade the odd adeptus that did stray too close to him.
No sign of Morax so far, though the yaksha didn’t really expect to see him right away. While he was unlike the god he was bound to, in that the stone god was known for frequent appearances on the battlefield, he presumably still had a lot of governing to do all the same.
Eventually the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains and the moon shone over the plains, promising treacherous tranquility. The yaksha of course, didn’t expect the guards to have just gone to sleep and leave the gate unguarded, but he didn’t need them too.
His sight was as sharp at night as it was at day, and with the veil of night cloaking him he could creep closer to the walls without drawing attention.
From within the walls he could hear a guzheng, expertly plucked, and the haunting melody tore at his insides. He shook it off. The melody seeped into his mind, conjuring up images of a past long buried and forgotten. A past where he would have danced to the melody, leaped and swirled around. He would have laughed, too. He stumbled back a bit, trying to banish those images back into the dark corner of his mind where they belonged. He had hoped he had forgotten them already. Was convinced he had, until that accursed melody dug them back up. The yaksha took a few deep breaths, calming his nerves. He could think clearer again.
That music wasn’t just for comfort or pleasant company. He could detect the adeptal energy carried within each note. It served as a protective enchantment of sorts. The yaksha etched closer to the wall again, prepared this time. Nearly laid his hand on the rough bricks, when he noticed a golden sliver, like a ripple over water, glazing over the walls. He focused on it. Geo energy, pure, strong and steady, gently pulsing along. Looking up, the golden shimmer extended high up, beyond the walls. It didn’t dome the assembly, merely extended the walls without a need for bricks. The yaksha cursed. He might be able to get inside, but he would be found out immediately. With any luck, his accomplice, the dust goddess likely had some sort of defensive mechanism at the ready; prepared to shoot would-be invaders from the sky.
He couldn’t really be surprised that the stone god would not leave his people unprotected, but it was frustrating all the same. It didn’t help. He had to wait for Morax to come outside.
The yaksha retreated again, silently leaping over the high grass, careful still to keep out of sight from wayward guards. A few paces away, he found an old sandbearer tree, limbs stretched out proud and defiantly against the harsh winds that grazed the plains. He had always liked the color and shape of its leaves. He took shelter in one of the higher branches, where he was relatively well hidden. He did not sleep however, instead taking up watch. Sharp eyes fixed on the faraway gate, missing nothing.
He might sit here a few hours or perhaps a few days. It mattered not. Eventually, Morax would have to come out.