The Broken Knife

A figure was leaning over a table. He wore a plain black robe with worn sleeves, and his pure white hair and beard were so long that they trailed down over the chair and table. A scroll lay stretched out in front of him, rolling off both sides of the table, a thickly piled section coming to rest against one stone wall, while the other end vanished beneath the table. He held something like Lianhua’s ‘pen’, and ink stained his fingers and the side of his hand as he wrote. There were blotches on the page, but he didn’t seem to care, continuing on as if no mistake had been made.

Kaz didn’t know how long it took the person to realize that he was no longer alone, but when he finally looked up, his large amethyst eyes blinked twice in the midst of deep wrinkles before he very slowly laid down his pen.

“Now, how did you get here?” He stood, slowly, his shoulders and back remaining hunched. His hand didn’t seem to want to release the pen, but it finally dropped to the scroll, staining it with yet another spot of ink, which grew as the pen continued to put out ink even though it was no longer moving.

Kaz glanced around as if searching for an answer to the question. He was in a room that seemed small because of the shelves and shelves of thick scrolls that surrounded him on all sides. He thought it might actually be quite large, but it was hard to tell since the only light was a white stick in a stand, resting beside the scroll sprawled across the table. A small flame flickered at the end of a thin cord that emerged from the center of the stick, and while this flame produced more light than seemed reasonable for its size, it didn’t illuminate the walls behind the shelves. The shelves and table were made of wood, which was itself strange, because who would waste something so valuable on simple furniture?

The silence hung as the old human stared at Kaz, showing no sign of impatience. It seemed like he would willingly wait for as long as it took.

Kaz finally found his voice, though it was strangely breathy, and he had to gasp after every few words. “I… don’t know. I was… trying to….”

Reminded, he pressed his hands against his belly, and was shocked when they sank into a warm, wet hole, rather than soft fur. Slowly, he lifted his hands, and saw thick crimson fluid covering them up to his wrists.

The human clicked his tongue and stepped forward. Before Kaz could try to convince his legs to carry him away, a long, thin hand with strangely sharp nails reached out, digging deep into Kaz’s abdomen. There was no pain, and a moment later the human held up Kaz’s sad, broken core. A golden shell covered the silver-gray one, but Kaz could see that it was almost as thin as the remaining mana.

“I see, I see,” the old man said, clucking in consternation. “This one was quite promising. One of the best I’ve seen, actually. But in such condition.”

Somehow, none of the blood that Kaz could now feel flowing down his legs to the floor stained the other's hand or clothing. Kaz opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to ask how that was possible, or perhaps to say something very different, but found that he was no longer able to get enough breath to do so.

White eyebrows drew together, and the wrinkles on the human’s face deepened as he stared at the golden shell. He flicked it with a finger, and a high, sweet chime rang out through the room, making the scrolls tremble on their shelves.

“This is interesting, though.” The purple eyes looked at Kaz more closely, and then the hand holding Kaz’s core tightened, closing around the shimmering object.

Kaz collapsed to the floor, suddenly filled with an even greater agony than he’d suffered when he originally shattered his core. He tried to howl, but only a hoarse whimper emerged from his throat.

The man knelt beside him, and his hand vanished as he thrust it back into Kaz’s body. Withdrawing his now-empty hand once again, he leaned forward and pressed one finger against Kaz’s forehead, just above the swirling center of power there.

“Wake. I’ve given you one more chance, kobold. Use it well.”

=+=+=+=

Kaz woke with a gasp, sitting up so Li’s limp body rolled down his chest and into his lap. Instinctively, one hand pressed to his abdomen while the other clutched at the dragonling, bringing her close to his chest. His fingers found the firm, smooth skin of his stomach, covered by the expected fur, with no trace of gore or injury.

Dismissing the image of his own blood soaking his hands as some kind of terrible nightmare, Kaz rolled Li over, watching as she took a single, shuddering breath, then another. She was alive, but unconscious, and when he looked at her channels, he could see that they were nearly as empty as his had been when he woke after nearly blowing himself up. Thankfully, her core was intact, so she had managed to avoid damaging herself the way he had.

There was something different about her though, and Kaz gently lifted her so he could stare at her chest again. Her breathing was evening out, which was good, but there, within her ribcage, lay a tiny spark of ki. She, too, had opened her middle dantian, and while it was small, it was already better defined and spinning more smoothly than his own.

Kaz smiled ruefully. Somehow, his small friend always managed to surpass him, no matter how he grew, and he was glad of it. The stronger she got, the more likely she was to survive if he died, and their link was severed.

Speaking of which, the luminescent cord that hung in the air between them had grown even thicker, and a good part of Kaz’s ki now cycled through the dragon’s body before returning to him. He cradled Li to his chest again as he examined the bond carefully.

Kaz was certain that when he last looked, only gold, white, and black ki had traveled between them, but now there was a tiny thread of blue winding among the denser streams of color. So far as he could tell, she didn’t actually use any of it, unlike the original three, and it came back to him untouched, but it was definitely there.

He shook his head, lying down and curling up around Li, holding her as tenderly as he would a newborn pup. He had no doubt that she had saved his life.

At last, he dared to turn his focus to his own core, though he was afraid of what he might see. Clearly, he had had some success, since he wasn’t dead, but he didn’t think it had gone as well as he’d hoped.

When he looked, though, everything had changed, and for the better. His core actually seemed to be intact! The surface was smooth, though there were clear signs of the shards that had protruded through before. Instead of a single, opalescent whole, the core now had distinct regions of color, with narrow ribbons of silver-gray joining them. It looked very like Lianhua’s cup, except that the joints were argent instead of gilt. Ki flowed easily in and out of the entire sphere, and though Kaz’s channels were still damaged, it was obvious that this smooth stream was better for them than the previous turgid current.

It took a moment for Kaz to figure out at least part of what had happened, and it left him in no doubt that what he had thought was a dream had in fact been reality. The shards of his core looked like they had been melted down, the parts outside the protective shell of mana becoming the new, glossy surface. Though now that he looked at it, it wasn’t quite as smooth and perfect as he had thought at first. No, there were slight depressions marring it, and from a distance, he could tell they formed the shape of a handprint.

Kaz shuddered at the ease with which that being had been able to alter his core. He had no doubt that if he had wished, the old being could have completed what Kaz had begun, and reduced it to splinters and dust just as easily. Instead, he had fixed it, at least well enough that Kaz didn’t need to fear using the power it gave him.

Instead of sending his mental body circling the gleaming orb, Kaz gently touched it, and it began to spin in place, though the ki twisted and turned to follow both the shape of the hand that had gripped it, and the seams of silver.

Curious if the center was still hollow, he sent his senses into it, and once again everything faded away, leaving Kaz with nothing but the core, closing around him. The pressure on his ‘body’ was greater than it had been before, and while the core itself had been solid, the ki within had been more like an effervescent gas. Now, it seemed more like a thin liquid. He thought he could actually touch it, where before it would have slipped through his fingers.

Beneath the seamed surface of ki, there was a ragged layer of mana, all that remained of the shell, now enclosed within the core like a band of hematite running through an iron formation. It was darker than it had been before, compressed like the ki, and nearly black.

Beyond that was more of the core material, but this was pure and unsullied by mana. It looked like Li’s, and he thought it must be very similar to the way his core had looked before it was damaged. Past that, however… there was a space. Here, ki spun, impossibly fast, and Kaz felt himself being pulled toward it, as if he was standing at the edge of a pit, and a wind pushed him toward the depths. He didn’t know what would happen if he fell in, so he pulled away, nearly frantic, until he could watch from the solid layer encasing it.

His core, originally a single, homogeneous sphere, now held four clear layers. The first was mostly ki, but mana mingled with it in the form of the silver lines that connected once-broken pieces. Beneath that lay the remnants of the mana shell, and beyond that was pure, apparently undamaged core. And, of course, there was the strange, revolving emptiness that seemed to be trying to pull everything else in. Was it the result of Kaz’s efforts to compress his ki, or was it something the mysterious human did? It seemed to be keeping the ki in the rest of the core spinning smoothly, in spite of the obstructions, so he was grateful for that, but otherwise it seemed at least slightly ominous.

The important thing for now, however, was that it was stable, and Kaz pulled back from his core, glad to regain his body’s senses. He opened his physical eyes, and looked down at the dragon he held so carefully.

Li stared up at him, her eyes a kaleidoscope of gold, white, black, and the faintest hint of blue. Kaz drew in a relieved breath, realizing that he had been truly worried that she might have overtaxed herself to the point of injury.

The dragon hissed tiredly, sending him an image of herself hovering over a golden sphere as a blue kobold lay sleeping on the ground. The image remained, lingering until Kaz realized what she was trying to tell him.

“I took longer than I said I would?” he asked quietly, reaching up to stroke her long neck.

She snapped at him, the gesture half-hearted at best, then deigned to allow him to touch her soft scales. Her eyes half-closed, and she sent agreement, then a picture of herself biting the sleeping kobold several times.

Kaz wrinkled his nose, trying to tell if she’d actually bitten him anywhere, but he felt better than he had in days. He hadn’t realized how taxing it was to worry that he might accidentally break his core and die without ever knowing exactly what had happened, or how tired he was of constantly monitoring the ebb and flow of his ki. Now, a subtle tension had left him, and he thought he could finally sleep deeply and well.

“I’m sorry,” he told the dragon, and she sighed; a deep, forbearing sigh.

A new image flashed into his mind, along with a deep sense of satisfaction. Gold dragon, rearing up on powerful hind legs, chest thrust out. Within that chest, a great orb of light spun, nearly as large as the rib cage itself, and certainly larger than the actual dragonling.

Kaz chuckled. “Yes, you opened your middle dantian, too. And you didn’t almost die doing it. You must have worked very hard. Thank you.”

Li lifted a wing, preening it happily, accepting his praise as her due. Then she yawned, showing rows of gleaming white teeth. Curling up again, she laid her head on her paws and closed her eyes with great deliberation. It was time for tired dragons to rest, and no kobold should disturb her.

Kaz smiled again, shifting just enough to find a more comfortable position, without moving his sleepy burden too much. He still got a soft hiss for his trouble, but that was all. He closed his own eyes, only to open them again a moment later, as the door creaked open.

Raff entered, bent over nearly double. He stumbled to his bed, hiccupped loudly, and then deep snoring came from his direction.

Kaz sighed, blocking some of the ki from his ears. Once the grating sound had dimmed enough that he could sleep, he closed his eyes again, and dreamed of flying.