Ghost Monkey, стр. 44

He looked down and could see the Miyam Kingdom spread out before him, a group of rivers all feeding into a lake. Surrounding the lake was the capital, Pindam. Supposedly, that's where he would find the salt, but first he needed to look into a rumor.

An old man, his toothless gums smacking together, poked Sugriva with a stick. His skin was dark and worn, like old leather treated poorly. "You dead?" The words whistled through his disgusting mouth.

Sugriva swatted at the stick. "Knock it off, you sack of bones." He sat up, then slowly rocked to his feet.

"Not from 'round here?" There was laughter and a glint in his blue eyes. A water elementalist. He wondered how much of that power remained in the man. If a lot of it, then even as a toothless hermit he was dangerous or a renowned healer.

"Can you make water?" Sugriva meant for the words to come out stronger, but there wasn't much energy left. "My skin is dry, and I can't find a pond or stream anywhere."

"Pah," he waved at the monkey and turned around. "You saw the river when you walked up here. Everyone does." He hunched over as he walked. Sugriva looked at the man's bare feet, and it looked painful, yet he had thick callouses which protected him against the uneven white rocks. "You saw it in my eyes, I'd guess."

The two walked around the rocks and up man-made stone stairs. The mountains didn't reach any higher. Around a small pond there was a little village. The houses were made of wood and rock. Red and yellow dyed the small homes to give them vibrancy when there were so few colors naturally. Some had blue, or they shimmered with silver. It was beautiful. Strings with pennants hung between buildings. Kids played in the streets, and the elderly sat outside yapping at each other.

"Why Hiram, janaav?" The old man stopped in front of a small house and sat on the porch. He smacked his gums again, then put out a hand.

"They say the Ashtadash are here. Or at least one of them." He showed the old man his black fingers. "I need them to cure me."

He responded with wheezed laughter. "I don't think there's a cure for that, except death. You want them to kill you?"

"No." He sighed, closing his fist and remembering the man on the ox so many years ago. "Someone gave me a potion once. It helped with the voices."

"Voices?" The man's eyes went wide. "Then you're pretty gone, I'd say." He pointed with a knobby finger at a distant cliff. "Cure's there. Go fly, little monkey." More laughter wheezed out of old lungs.

Thoughts of Prisha and the Falls rushed back. Sugriva sighed, then dropped down to his knees. Sobs wracked his body, shoulders shaking. "You're right. I should. Thank you." Then the old man raised his staff and brought it down on Sugriva's skull.

IT WAS DARK OUT WHEN Sugriva came to. Fires crackled, and people sang and played music. Sugriva attempted to prop himself up and collapsed. The strike from the old man remained as a crippling ache. Straw and feather made his bed and pillow. It invited him to lay there, to let himself drift away. Why wake up already? So he fell asleep until the next day.

The headache wasn't any better, but at least his body felt rested.

"It is time," the old man said, hovering over Sugriva. "Follow me."

With a deranged smile on his face, he made off. Outside there was a festival of some sort, but it didn't matter. The old man rushed Sugriva past it, then up the mountain, until they were at a peak overlooking the Sankive Jungle. With better eyes, Sugriva didn't doubt he would have seen Jaya in the distance with how high they were.

The night sky overhead was filled with pinpricks of light. Violet swirled to denote something more than stars graced the heavens, something more than they could comprehend. Some would say there were elementalists of the cosmos, shifting space and reality out in the black unknown. Sugriva didn't believe the stories, but they were beautiful to think on.

"Stand on the rock," the old man said. "Then copy my pose." The man contorted his body, arms wrapping around each other multiple times. His head tipped back, and he looked up into the star filled void.

Sugriva tried and fell. He tried again, and was able to stay upright. Then the old man struck his leg, and Sugriva toppled over. "That was lazy. You cannot be lazy when communing with the universe." The man went back to his position. "Do it again."

They continued until it was morning, with Sugriva failing repeatedly. When the stars faded, the old man said, "Sleep here. I'll be back tonight." Then he walked away. Sugriva grumbled as he hunted some of the local wildlife, stripped them of their pelts, and made a suitable bed.

This continued for several nights. Each night he felt his anger boil up, though the physical signs of corruption decreased.

Then, after weeks, he finally maintained the pose. He remained in the pose for hours, until the sun washed away the stars. The old man said, "Now you are ready."

Without another word, he went up to Sugriva and created a water bubble. The bubble absorbed Sugriva, and the monkey struggled to breathe. The corruption leached out of him into the bubble as black ooze. Overcome by spasms, his mouth opened and water rushed in. It didn't hurt, and every time he exhaled, more darkness flowed out of him. The black water leaked out of the bottom of the sphere and splashed across the ground as puss. The ooze pulsed, slowly crawling away before it turned to black ash and was swept away by winds.

The sun set, and the moon came out. The water turned silver, then it crashed to the ground, leaving Sugriva huddled in a ball, wet and coughing up fluid. He shook himself out