by J F Mehentee
Cubchick’s mane had all but gone, and his wings were tattered, bent and broken. And still he grappled, fought to inch his head closer so he could clamp his jaws over the demoness’s neck.
I glanced back. The sceptre had disappeared behind the slope and, most likely, had rolled into the lake.
Time had almost run out.
I tottered as I stood, locked my knee, ignored the fire in my calf and limped as fast as I could to the demoness. Part of Cubchick’s hackles were missing along with fur and skin from his throat.
In the exact moment I passed Biyu, I directed the remains of my qi into my legs. I took two more strides and jumped. My knee buckled. I’d aimed my jump at the demoness’s face, hoping to use my fist in place of a weapon.
All I managed to do was grab her ankle with one hand.
Laughter filled my ears. The disintegrating Cubchick was seconds away from death, and a crippled human dangled from her ankle. Princess Ragni had won. If I were her, I’d be laughing.
A disconnected part of my brain noticed how my grabbing the demoness’s ankle had caused her shoe to fall off. Her bare foot reminded me of the demonic power I’d felt after stepping off the shrine.
To describe its nature to the abbot, I’d absorbed it. I could do the same, only this time with the demoness’s qi. I didn’t know how much of it I could absorb and the effect it would have on her. None of that mattered. I’d run out of time and out of options. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened myself to the demoness and her vile energy.
Needles of burning red light lanced the inside of my skull. Molten lead replaced the blood pulsing through my arteries, and I belched acrid smoke that coated and dried my tongue. I clung on to the demoness, ignoring my disembodied voice as it pleaded with me to let go.
I don’t know how long I hung there, draining the demoness, filling myself with her thick, corrupted energy that burned and boiled inside me.
The laughter and the screaming stopped.
A roar made the air tremble. I heard a wet crunch, and then I fell.
12
Rain spattered against the back of my head and between the tears in my shirt. I coughed and had to roll onto my side to clear my lungs. A minute passed before my chest stopped convulsing and my airways cleared. My throat burned. The demoness’s qi drained from me, and I let the rain wash the tears from my face.
A deep irregular rattle made me sit up.
Across the lake and in the distance, men in drab camouflage uniform poured out of the shrine’s ruined doorway. Some of them were already in the compound and had engaged the Leyakians. The sound of rifle fire sounded distant, otherworldly. Damini fought alongside the men, her staff whirling. The yakshini had never left her side.
Another irregular rattle ended in a sigh.
I pushed myself up and turned. Pain exploded in my calf, and my limbs shook with exhaustion.
The demoness and Cubchick lay next to each other.
I stooped and pressed my hand to my knee as I hobbled towards them. To my left, the demoness lay on her back. Motionless and her throat ripped out, her face wore a rictus of surprise. When Cubchick saw me, he lifted a paw. The effort was too much for him, and he dropped it with a breathy rattle.
I rushed over to Cubchick as fast as my calf let me.
‘No, no, no. Cubchick.’
The words weren’t mine, but they echoed the sentiment. I glanced over my shoulder. Biyu ran towards us. She stopped for a moment to absorb the scene and to understand what had happened.
I knelt by the fallen anzu, his skin torn away and his wings crumpled.
Biyu dropped beside me, her hands held out. She wanted to comfort him, but from his condition, a single touch could be agonising. She held his paw. Biyu stared at me, her third eyelids sliding back and forth.
‘Can’t you do something for him?’ she said. ‘Cubchick can’t die here. He’s supposed to fly to Heaven. He doesn’t belong here.’
I wrapped an arm around her. The rain started to pelt her naked skin.
‘Your qi tablets,’ she said. ‘They might help him.’
She was like a patient given a dire prognosis: Biyu was in denial. I loved her too much to tell her so. I dug into the shoulder bag I’d somehow managed not to lose. To my surprise, the pouch filled with tablets hadn’t fallen out of the tears Cubchick had made. I handed it to her.
Biyu grabbed the pouch, scrambled over to Cubchick’s head and hunched over him to protect him from the rain. Cubchick’s tongue flicked out.
‘You were always the hungry one,’ she said. ‘Come on, open your mouth.’
Her hands shook as she emptied the pouch. Three tablets landed in her palm.
‘Come on, Cubchick. Take the tablets. Sanjay will give you some of his qi. You mustn’t stay here.’ She held the tablet’s to Cubchick’s mouth. He yowled. His breath blew a tablet out of her hand. Biyu gazed at me. ‘Do something, Sanjay, anything, please.’
I had no more to give. I didn’t want Cubchick to die either. He’d saved Arlanga, the archipelago. Cubchick deserved to live. I found a spot that had suffered the least ruin and laid my hands on it. I willed my qi into him. My tattoos glowed for a second and then fluttered out.
‘Sanjay, please,’ Biyu pleaded.
I was crying now, my tears hot with rage and regret. The rain failed to cool them. Cubchick belonged in Heaven—all of him. I didn’t want his body treated like a relic, a relic for the Ministry to dissect and preserve.
I’ve nothing left, Biyu. I don’t want him to die either.
She thrust out her hand holding the tablets.
‘You take them. That way you can still save him.’
I reached out with one hand and accepted the tablets. Then I paused. I had to be sure.
‘What’s wrong? Take them.’
I placed my ear against Cubchick’s chest and heard silence.
Biyu understood. She threw an arm over Cubchick’s neck, fell onto him and cried.
I bowed my head. The rain grew heavier, and I prayed for Cubchick’s soul.
13
I don’t know how long I’d prayed for before I realised it had stopped raining. I eased myself up. The surrounding light had greyed, but above me stars shone in a midnight blue sky. Somehow, the night sky maintained a perfect circle.
‘Biyu,’ I said, when I spotted the curtain of rain surrounding us. I limped over to her and touched her shoulder. ‘Biyu, the sky.’ When she didn’t budge, I added, ‘It’s still raining.’
That made her look. And then she pointed.
Two silhouettes approached the watery curtain. The rain parted before they stepped through it. Both of them had to be eighteen feet tall. One wore a red tunic and grey pantaloons. In his right hand he carried a red rod tipped with silver. Tawny fur covered his hands, feet and face. Although his features resembled a macaque’s, his grey eyes were human.
‘Anjaneya,’ Biyu whispered.
The Divine Monkey canted his head and bowed.
Next to Anjaneya stood a man whose golden breastplate covered a robe of flowing white. A tight queue of dark hair swung behind him, and his beard covered the middle of his breastplate. In one hand, he held a halberd of gold, its axe blade shaped like a dragon. His other hand clutched the sceptre, its bulbous ends jutting from it.
‘Yahata,’ Biyu said.
The god of war strode past her and halted when he reached the demoness. He tossed the sceptre onto her corpse, swung his halberd and buried its spear-like shaft into her.
Biyu clung to me as the demoness’s body folded into itself and followed the tip of the spearhead into the earth. As Princess Ragni and the sceptre disappeared, the ruins of the pagoda shuddered and were swallowed up, too.
Yahata nodded at Anjaneya.
The Divine Monkey held out his rod and shook it once, turning it into a staff. He gave it a theatrical swing and brought it down on Cubchick. The staff’s silver tip hung an inch above the anzu and then tapped him lightly. Cubchick’s body ignited. White blinding
flames burst from it.
I had to blink several times before my vision cleared. Anjaneya gave his staff a twirl and shook it a second time. The staff returned to the size of a rod.
Biyu’s body stiffened against mine.
Look, Sanjay.
Yahata had laid down his halberd and knelt beside Cubchick. The anzu’s fur, his feathers and wings had been restored, but now they were pure white. The god of war lifted Cubchick’s head and blew into his nostrils.
Nothing happened.
Yahata raised an eyebrow. He took the end of his beard and tickled Cubchick’s nose.
The anzu sneezed.
The anzu yowled, rolled onto his feet and stretched his wings, casting all of us in shadow. Cubchick bowed his head and butted Yahata. The god of war smiled and remained kneeling. He looked over at us. Under his scrutiny, Biyu and I bowed. Yahata’s eyes narrowed. He jabbed a finger at Biyu and then wagged it at her to approach.
My grip on Biyu tightened.
Sanjay, she said, let go.
Yahata winked at me.
Biyu advanced. Though I could feel her embarrassment at being naked in front of a god, she hid it well.
Yahata snapped off a piece of his golden breastplate. As if it were a qi tablet, he rolled it between his palms. When Biyu reached him, he flung a medallion into the air. It spun and a chain uncoiled from it. Biyu caught it.
‘Thank you, Lord Yahata,’ she said, with a bow.
The god of war still knelt. He raised both eyebrows.
Biyu put on the medallion. At once, she was clothed in a sweeping turquoise robe with flared sleeves and the waist gathered beneath a sash.
Yahata rose, retrieved his halberd and joined Anjaneya. The two gods tapped a forefinger to their foreheads in farewell, turned and walked in step to the lake. The rain parted and closed behind them.
I didn’t move, until their silhouettes shrank and disappeared.
A rumble from deep inside Cubchick’s chest broke the spell. He stepped forward and nuzzled Biyu with his cheek. I had stood in the presence of two gods and witnessed one of them reward Biyu with a magic medallion. But I couldn’t rid myself of the emptiness pressing against my insides. I strode to Cubchick and rubbed his mane, my hand lost in his thick white hair. He leaned against me and almost knocked me over. His accompanying purr only made the emptiness heavier.
Cubchick stretched out one forelimb, bent the other and bowed to Biyu.
‘What’s he doing?’ she said.
She knew—she was hoping I’d say otherwise.
‘He imprinted on you,’ I said, my throat tightening. To him, you’re his mother. He wants your blessing before he leaves.
Biyu’s third eyelids flicked across her eyes. She bent down and kissed a spot just beneath the anzu’s ears.
Cubchick returned to his full height. He stared at the starry heaven above us and spread his wings. He roared once and took off.
I joined Biyu and pulled her closer to me. We held each other and watched Cubchick shrink and disappear.
The heavens faded, and it rained.
14
Like other worshippers, I’d left my shoes just beneath the temple’s flying eaves and my umbrella out in the evening rain. My shoulder, knee and calf all complained as I bent to tie my shoelaces. Mr Lee was right: I should have rested instead of opening the practice a day after our return from Arlanga. But he didn’t have a backlog of appointments, patients who’d been waiting a week to see me.
Lamplight brightened the painted gods lining the wall of the temple across the street, and it caused the raindrops to sparkle.
Even though I could do with a few days off, I felt lighter, less burdened than I had been in a long time. As I opened my umbrella, I decided I’d buy more flowers from a temple stallholder and take them home for Biyu.
‘Thanjay.’
Toojan stood at the top of the temple’s steps. I hadn’t seen him inside, and so I’d assumed the older monks had sent him off to the dormitory and bed. I climbed back up and closed my umbrella.
I don’t know why, but seeing him standing there in his saffron robes reminded me of the abbot I’d met on Arlanga. He’d worn a sarong of deep orange and red. I blanked the memory of his and the other two monks’ mangled bodies.
‘I’m glad you’re back,’ Toojan said. He grinned to reveal his missing front teeth.
If he wasn’t a monk and the incarnation of an ancient sorcerer and sage, I’d have hugged the little guy.
‘You were right,’ I said. ‘The anzu’s egg, the demoness and the sceptre, they were all connected. These past seven days have been about sealing the hellmouth on Arlanga.’
Toojan shrugged a shoulder.
‘Recalling past lives maketh it easier to spot the connections.’ He glanced down at the shoes of the worshippers inside and wrinkled his nose. He gathered up his robes and scurried to the opposite side of the entrance.
I followed. Toojan hadn’t called out just to say hello.
‘Why weren’t you at Biyu’s funeral?’ I said.
He peeked behind him. I got the impression he wasn’t supposed to be out here.
‘Why ask thuch a question,’ he said, ‘when you already know the answer?’
Forget hugging the little bugger. He’d known Biyu was alive.
‘How is your wife?’ he said, an evil glint in his eye.
Now he was toying with me.
‘She’s at home. It’s her evening to make dinner.’
Toojan looked at me as if I’d given him the wrong answer. His eyes narrowed. I shook my head and sighed.
‘My jealousy,’ I said, my voice low so no one else heard, ‘my being jealous of her work and being jealous of her supervisor, it was all in my mind.’ I squirmed at my confession. I’d behaved like a child.
‘Is Biyu enjoying her gift?’
I smiled, grateful to Toojan. I’d learned my lesson, so he’d changed the subject. There was no need to ask how he knew about the medallion. The monk wasn’t called The Eye for nothing.
‘Neither of us can quite believe Anjaneya and Yahata appeared before us. Biyu’s busy learning how to dress and undress herself with the medallion.’
Toojan raised an eyebrow.
‘The gods are sparing with their gifts, Sanjay,’ he said, his voice deeper now, commanding. ‘They give them for more important reasons than hiding one’s modesty.’
It sounded to me as if the gods wanted more. Hadn’t we done enough for them?
‘Instead of giving her a gift, why didn’t Yahata make her human again?’
Again, the one-shouldered shrug.
‘Maybe the gods will change her back when she’s more use to them as a human.’ His face softened, a fatherly smile on his lips, which was disconcerting on an eight-year-old. ‘There’s more work for both of you to do,’ he continued. ‘Be patient.’
Be patient. What choice did I have? I had begun to believe that Biyu’s accident, her changing into a dragon, had nothing to do with my prayer for her to spend more time at home.
‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ Toojan said.
Cubchick had saved Biyu from drowning. I still hadn’t thanked the gods enough.
‘Yes,’ I said. I opened my umbrella. ‘You will.’
I’d reached the temple’s bottom step when Toojan called out again.
‘When you come tomorrow,’ he said, ‘don’t forget the laddoos.’
THE END
UNTIL THE NEXT RELIC HUNTERS ADVENTURE
Another note from the author
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Copyright © 2020
J F Mehentee
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
Published by P in C Publishing
ePub ISBN: 978-1-912402-26-7