Kill the buddha on the road.

  From The 22 Teachings of Tala

  The next Esara came much quicker than Raxri could anticipate.

  Four days flashed by. In that time, Raxri had finished none of the manuscripts Akazha had given them. Instead, Raxri bounced form manuscript to manuscript, soaking up what they could from each one.

  First, Raxri found a grasp of magickal workings after reading a very small slice of THE WIZARD SUTRA, which talked about wizards and shamans (in Elder Karitan, veijza and sramana) and how magick worked in the Law.

  Raxri did not understand all the terminology and had to jump to TREATISE ON MAGICK AND SUPRANATURALITY, which was written by Paramaterial Mystic and Sage Hri Kandu Patungkana, otherwise known as the Emerald Serpent Wizard. There they found out Magick meant: "the secret way of things, of mystique, of requiring initiation, the way of influencing the world through means only known to the initiated." And then they found out the meaning of Supranatural as "beyond natural" or "exceeding natural" and meant things that were hard to explain through natural laws, such as the secrets of sorcery. Here, Raxri learned that the gods and demons are all part of natural laws rather than supranatural. The supranatural were beyond even the gods and monsters.

  Raxri wondered why they did not use the term supernatural instead. "That belongs to beings like us," Jikajika had filled in once. "We are beings of great nature. We are not beyond nature. That's the purview of dread sorcery, you see."

  Raxri thought for a moment, and then said: "The miracles you perform and the magicks wizards do... what is the difference?"

  Jikajika had simply harrumphed and walked away. Akazha nodded, smirking. "You inch ever closer to Liberation, Raxri."

  But then they fell upon a strange inflection of Sapi and what Power meant to magickers, and so they leaped over to THE WILL AND POWER SUTRA and at that point Raxri had forgotten what THE WILL AND POWER SUTRA were about. When they brought up to Akazha just how difficult it was to read THE WILL AND POWER SUTRA she laughed and said: "That's Daknakraka for you. Impossible to read. She once said: 'All treatises on philosophy must be 15% difficult to understand, for other philosophers of the field to be happy.' She's a riot. She also said: "Never refer to real Analytology as Philosophy. Philosophy is the term coined by hateful sophists and used as a diminutive, jeering term. All forms of analysis are Analytology. All forms of discourse are Dialectology. All forms of natural inquiry are Mundology. Nothing more, nothing less."

  Raxri had blinked. "You have that memorized, ready to utter like a sword ready to unsheathe?"

  "Ultramystic Sutasoma," Akazha answered blankly. She walked away.

  That sent a chill down Raxri's spine.

  On the day of their journey, Raxri, Jikajika, and Akazha woke up right at the start of Daybreak, the First Phase of the Day. Raxri and Akazha had readied up on clothes, wearing silks and cloths, to prevent mosquitos, flies, and sunburn. Rather poetically Raxri remembered the High Selorongian term for daybreak, or morning: Breaking Mornlight.

  Raxri wore a sarong, and then bamboo sandals. They wore a strangely gauze-like shirt, which embraced their body so closely that the contours of their muscles showed. On top of the compression shirt they wore the heavy textile jacket that cut off at their midriff, and had sleeves coming to a close at their wrists. Dark gray with geometric patterns of bright vermilion.

  Slung across their right hip was Puksa, still in their sheathe. They had been taking good care of Puksa. Oiling it, sharpening it, and making sure to cut with it once in a while to keep it in good working order and so that it wouldn't rust. Raxri knew there was some sort of magickal formulation to it--most likely having to do with the actual magick formulas engraved upon the base of its blade--but neither Raxri nor Akazha could work out what it was.

  Akazha on the other hand wore large billowy harem pants dyed pastel blue. She wore closed-toe boots made of hard carabao hide, blanched to look light gray. Those looked like armor--no one ever wore boots in the Utter Islands unless it was for protection. Her harem pants looked like they clipped into those boots, which reached up to her shins.

  For her top, she wore a tube skirt that she only made to cover her top half, and then they made it fold multiple times around her chest, before pleating it multiple times and letting loose cloth hang to her right. She had no need for sheathes, as she hid all her blades within invisible sheathes of light: the rays of the sun, the gleaming beams of the moon, the silent glow of stars.

  Over it all she wore an ankle-length sky blue textile hooded robe. Lines of silver threads ran through it, arranged in amazingly complex floral designs. Akazha used a gold belt, usually made to run around a waist, and wound it about her neck to cinch the robe near her neck area. Her silhouette was very distinct.

  When Raxri saw what Akazha was wearing, they said: "Armored boots?"

  "Expensive, these," she replied. "They came from trade. One must wait eternity for them. Perhaps there will be some war boots for you in Blacklight City."

  Raxri nodded. "I am in dire need of armor."

  Akazha nodded as well, both in agreement and in slight sheepishness. "I suppose I should have begun with that for you. But I am not exactly swimming in resources, you see."

  "I understand, Akazha. I thank you anyway."

  They ate a light breakfast--coffee, rice, dried fish--before they set out. They only had rattan satchels strung across their shoulders for their carriage. They both carried rations for the trip, along with flowers and joss sticks for offering as required, and then healing gourds and other medicines.

  "Sungai stays behind?"

  Akazha shook her head. "We ride the river barge down to Imos Town," she said. "Sungai is... not the friendliest with any kind of river god or entity."

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  Raxri turned to glimpse at Sungai, who was happily taro. "Is that so?" Sungai seemed almost too happy to be staying behind.

  "Goodbye to thee," said Jikajika, flapping over to perch atop a pole. "This place will be kept safe, as it is a sanctuary."

  "Don't bring too many spirits over," said Akazha, checking her supplies one last time.

  Jikajika shrugged, as if to say, no promises! Raxri only smiled. "Stay safe, dear guardian god," said Raxri.

  Jikajika smiled and bowed. "Of course. May all the monsters that have ever and will ever be born upon this world be safe of thee and thine."

  Raxri chuckled.

  Before long, Raxri and Akazha began their trek, walking down the road toward the river, looking for all intents and purposes like true wandering swordsman. Like true vagrant knights.

  They walked in, at least to Raxri, comfortable silence. The sky was cloudy; the unbearable heat of the sun was nowhere to be felt. The birds were still numerous overhead. The world sang and sang still, even in its death. Was this the beautiful sound of its throes? Or was it the waiting tune of a cosmos waiting to be rebirthed?

  All things are reborn, after all.

  Akazha walked in relative silence. She stared ahead, making sure to walk over large vines and creepers. The occasional wild hiss of a civet. The rare growl of a tiger. Nothing fazed her either way: there was nothing to be afraid of when one wielded power such as her.

  When they first left, Raxri had chanted a Protection Mantra 108 times. Akazha reveled in it, but she did not chant her own mantra. When Raxri asked about why, Akazha said that she chanted along in her mind.

  "How long will our travel be?" asked Raxri, as they walked.

  Akazha smirked. "It's barely been an hour."

  Raxri shrugged. "I am merely curious."

  "Two more hours, more or less. By the Hour of the Leaping Sun, we will have reached it."

  "And now is...?"

  "The Working Sun Hour. So called because work usually begins at this time of day."

  Raxri scratched their head. "I... seem to have forgotten the Hour of a Day."

  " Just know that there are 24 hours in a day, beginning and ending at midnight," said Akazha. She pulled out a pipe, snapped her fingers to summon a wick of flame, and lit the tobacco aflame. She put out the fire with a wave of her fingers. "Monks do not follow the usually movements of the day. Especially the monks of Mount Jura. All time is illusion, after all. Made by man. Made by us."

  I suppose that's true. Raxri made to meditate upon the truth of that. What is time but the attempt of the unenlightened mind to make sense of causality and movement? In the end, there is no time, but our failing comprehension and gripping to conceptualization.

  Raxri shook their head. Now was not the time to glimpse into metatemporal ideas. Great, now I'm starting to think like an analytic philosopher, they thought to themselves, humorously enough.

  The silence continued on, other than the sound of their footsteps crunching grass and dry leaves underneath. Raxri decided to savor the quiet. It was rare, and being in such a sacral place such as the forests of Pemi was enough to send one into deep concentration.

  After a moment, Raxri stated: "It seems I had forgotten my own pipe."

  Akazha blinked, looked over her shoulder. "Are you sure?"

  Raxri nodded, sifting through the contents of their satchel. "It's gone."

  Akazha clicked her tongue. "Unfortunate. Perhaps next time you will take double care to re-check all the things that you need."

  Raxri nodded. "Forgive me."

  "There is nothing to forgive, only something to learn. And you are no child, Raxri Uttara." Without looking, Akazha lent them her pipe. "Here, in the meantime."

  "Ah..., are you sure? No poison suffuses this?"

  "I am no venomous serpent to poison a pipe's shaft," she said, rolling her eyes. "It is fine. Go ahead. You look like you could use it, anyway."

  Raxri smiled and said: "If you insist."

  They walked like that a few more dragons, passing the pipe between the two of them. After a while, Raxri asked: "Akazha, if it is all right, I have something to ask you."

  "Hm?"

  A beat of silence.

  "Why... did you choose to help me?"

  Another beat of silence.

  Raxri saw deep contemplation pass over Akazha's face, followed by: "Because I wanted to."

  Want. "Very curt would you not say?"

  "Actions done with ulterior motives is detrimental to generating and practicing Waking-Mind. I've done enough things in life under the invisible hand of selfishness and ambition."

  Raxri thought about that for a moment. Right. Waking-Mind. Enlightening Mind...

  Akazha--to fill in the silence--said: "Do you think I am maneuvering in such a way so as to take advantage of you?"

  Raxri shook their head. "A-Ah, no! I would hope not, at least."

  "It's understandable for you to think so," said Akazha, shrugging, sighing. "Though the thought agitates me."

  Raxri was silent. What does she mean?

  She continued: "I am not going to consume your flesh, like the others," she said. "I do not contend with this Realms Belligerent in that way. Please, have it writ upon my soul, that I perform all the things I do for you in the name of Loving-Kindness."

  "I know," said Raxri. "And I am thankful." But she's hiding something.

  _"_Just so we get ahead of it," she said, though she spoke without looking at Raxri. "Especially as we now journey together, not as master and student but as fellow disciples."

  "Right." Raxri exhaled. "But in truth I was silent not because I was thinking that, but because I was trying to remember what bodhicitta was."

  A quiet pause. She exhaled, clearly amused. "It is the mind to enlightenment, that thing that all beings upon the Law must aspire to generate, cultivate, and practice, so that every move we make brings us closer to Liberation. And perhaps, somehow, Liberation Past Liberation."

  "Revolution," whispered Raxri. "It gets more complicated. And I thought it was already complicated!"

  "Such a complication will only grow," said Akazha. "As you learn more of the different cultivation systems. The Infinite Law is not the most common cultivation system, as you know. That honor belongs to the Scarlet God Cult."

  "Will we meet Scarlet God Cultists?"

  She nodded. "They are everywhere, after all."

  Another silence, then Raxri said: "Can I have the pipe?"

  "What?" Akazha looked down at the pipe, and then shook her head. "No."

  "Huh? But we were just sharing it...!"

  "I changed my mind now."

  "I beg--"

  "Begging makes you repulsive. Cease!" But Akazha hid a burgeoning smile.

  They walked on like this.

  By the Phase of the Leaping Sun, after zenith, Raxri and Akazha had reached the river. It rushed, great and wide, enough to fit five outrigger boats. So wide it was that Raxri thought it was the sea at first.

  "Witness," said Akazha, waving with her lit pipe. "The great River Wetan."

  "It is beautiful."

  "This is a larger section of the same river you and Sungai had to cross, coming here. Upriver one arrives at the now dead Iri Village," said Akazha. "You would do well to remember the rivers of the world, Raxri. It is the lifeblood of these settlements, the very thing that connects us together. Nothing is more impassable than the holy mountains, you see. Nothing is greater a mover, greater a transporter, than flowing water."

  Raxri nodded in agreement. The two of them walked down the river, passing the pipe between each other.

  After a moment, Raxri said: "Oh look. A lotus."

  Akazha furrowed her eyebrows. "Lotuses out here? Strange. The water movement here is far too quick for there to be lotuses..."

  "Look!" Raxri pointed with the pipe at the lotus.

  It moved closer.

  Akazha immediately readied herself. "What the--?"

  A dragon erupted from the river.

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