Fight Like A Girl

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Fight Like A Girl Page 11

by Juliet E. McKenna


  She was wheezing now, the sound like a cornered animal crying for its mother. Then the banging on her door began. If she didn’t go now, she’d be re-captured, tortured and likely killed.

  People had survived much worse. With a prayer to the ancestors, she slammed her mouth shut on an instinctive scream, pulled the blanket down and let herself drop.

  *

  The streets of Brighton were notoriously wild, filled with colours and dancing, with gulls as large as foxes, and people of every age and shape. But they were too loud for Kai.

  She was sick of running into fights, of joining crews who only wanted to exploit her powers. She just wanted to get home. And without a real home to return to, that gave her only one option. Still, she had the compass, taken from a Royalist’s body, and she knew about the flame. She just needed answers, and the blessing of the Gods.

  They would be able to track her here, through the cobbled streets and paved alleys. She trod carefully through the forest that draped around the edge of town, heading for the cliffs. Her hip burned as the hill steepened, and she struggled for breath. Despite the intermittent gusts of wind, it was much quieter here, and she took a few moments to meditate as she reached the open field at the summit. Dunnocks chirped, little brown specks flitting in and out of the tall grass. A magpie clacked in a nearby tree. The Royals might track her to the city’s edge, but here she had the advantage.

  After a brief rest to catch her breath, curled up in the shade at the base of a clump of bushes, Kai continued her journey. She was careful to duck and weave through the trees, and walked a little through a small stream. She was shivering now, but wet feet were a cheap price to pay to keep her safe. She smiled as she heard the bark of foxes echoing up from the distant streets. Hopefully they’d followed her out of the city.

  The monastery looked like any of the cottages nestled among these hills, with an idyllic view of the sea, gazing over the remains of the burned down West Pier, sticking out of the sea like discarded scaffolding. The Scottish Buddhists had set up home here, running their sessions in the centre of town, but living away from the city and their origins. From the outside, the two buildings could have belonged to anyone, with pale blue cement for walls, and little windows which were never closed. She knew the lama stayed somewhere out here, near the cliffs at the edge of town.

  It took all Kai’s strength to turn away, to head down the other side of the hill she had climbed, back into the bustle of the lanes. She could not risk the open country of the South Downs; she would return instead to her tutor in town. The Downs had seemed a sensible direction to head after her escape, but she needed to meet up with Duncan. She could only hope her childhood here would encourage him to help.

  Anyone tracking her would be thoroughly lost in the trees behind her, and would likely not search the city now she had made sure she was seen leaving.

  Pulling the blanket over her head, she walked past closed store fronts and along the cobbled walkways. She was heading for the seafront, for the quiet kind of darkness offered by the pebble beach; where the final stars were just visible above the pollution.

  The lights of the pier were the brightest thing for miles, the city quiet as her watch ticked past five thirty. As morning rose, tinted pink sunlight streaked through grey sky.

  The blanket around her swished in time to her footsteps as she passed a man who had slept another night on the pavement. She frowned at his frost-covered coat, the only difference from yesterday.

  Sat ready for the six o’clock commuters, he was already organised; huddled on the corner, coughing out the words of his trade into clouds of condensation. Yet as he tried to sell the Big Issue by the bus station, people walked straight past, often without a glance his way.

  Kai offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and stepped onto the pebbles. The crunch underfoot took some adjusting to, but it was a pretty sound if she didn’t try to block it out. A gull squawked over the waters, sunlight shimmered off the Channel. Nothing spoke to her like the sound of ocean waves. When she concentrated, she swore she could hear the hushed conversations of marine life.

  Her breathing slowed, and she let herself enjoy the view as she inhaled the scents of modern city life. Chips served to drunk students at three am littered the beach, and brought the gulls down to land. At this distance, she almost liked the smell.

  After a walk through the streets to re-orient herself with the city she’d once known well, she checked her watch. The centre wouldn’t officially be open yet, but someone should be there from seven.

  Brighton Buddhist Centre lay in the heart of the city; a tall brick terraced building that had been a block of offices a few years before. The door was hidden down one of the cobbled side streets of the Lanes, used only as a short cut to reach shops at the other end of town. That brought a calming sense of safety for someone seeking shelter.

  She knocked gently and entered without waiting for a response. Although they would not be expecting her, she knew nearly everyone, and if the building was unlocked someone must be in. She passed the cloakroom, swapping her ripped blanket for a plain coat, and took the steps up to the main community room, following the smell of incense, wincing as her left side creaked. She’d landed badly from her escape, but between her left knee and right hip, she was managing.

  Orange and red hangings adorned the ochre walls, decorated with depictions of the Buddha, tigers and a serpent. But she heard nothing. No chanting, no music . . . An uneasy feeling crept up her spine. An ambulance siren screeched outside.

  “Hello?”

  She stepped into the upper room, the floorboards groaning too loudly. The room was bright, with white walls, and the far wall was covered in a mural of some icon she did not recognise. A few mats rested on the floor. Kai wondered why the incense still burned, and why the door had been unlocked, if the place were truly empty.

  She checked the other two rooms; a small study on her right and a little bedroom on the left. Both were deserted. She could only hope the Royals hadn’t tracked her here. Gulls squawked outside, shrieking to greet the day and blotting out all other sounds.

  When she walked back down to the reception at the front of the building, she saw a figure approaching from the end of the hall.

  “Duncan?”

  The figure didn’t change stride, but as he neared, her shoulders relaxed. Duncan wasn’t a true Buddhist, but he was the receptionist and servant of the lama. He was the main contact between her lodgings by the cliffs and the city’s hub. Kai had heard rumours, though the lady’s arrival had been a quiet one – the only female member of her order believed to have been reborn as enlightened.

  “Kai. Good to see you again.”

  She bowed her head as Duncan approached, stepping to one side so he could enter the building. “Your timing isn’t the best.”

  She followed him back inside. “I’m sorry,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  Duncan sighed, halting. Nearly a foot taller than her, with broad shoulders, he took up most of the space in the corridor. “You come seeking shelter from your troubles. We cannot put the community at risk.”

  Kai clutched her stomach, trying to hold in the sinking butterfly feelings. She couldn’t have come all this way for nothing. She had to gain access to the centre to have any chance at finding it. “I don’t know what to offer.”

  “You will have been followed. If you have not been found already, you soon will be. You are in danger, but you coming here puts us in danger too. I believe the lama will ask much of you.”

  “But I am a Circlet member.”

  Duncan scratched under his ginger beard. “You have been chosen, but you must still earn your place. We will not turn you away, but she will expect you to devote yourself to serving the community, just as you did when you were last here.”

  Kai swallowed. She’d always found comfort in her get-out clause. Circlet girls were chosen as children to follow the path, and they were thought to be blessed by Tara, a female represent
ation of Buddhist enlightenment. She shouldn’t need to complete any pilgrimage or temple tasks, or need to explain her circumstances. The last time she’d been caught, in London, she’d hidden in one of the devotees dormitory rooms with no questions asked.

  “Why the change in the rules?” she asked. As a child, she’d merely kept her room tidy and attended the ceremonies. They would ask more of her now.

  “I do not know. We have a new leader since the last assassination – a lama by the name of Sinead Rinpoche. Since the situation is so particular, I can take you to her.”

  “Thank you, I think that would be best.”

  He picked up a backpack, emptying out some rocks, a few bottles of water and some dirt-covered rope, which he substituted with a thicker and cleaner one. He exchanged his raincoat for another; this one a dark green shade, and settled the bag upon his back once more. It was important to keep the lama’s location hidden, and Kai glanced down at her jeans, black anorak and skeleton satchel. She wasn’t exactly camouflaged, but she preferred to keep her belongings with her.

  “Come.”

  Kai followed Duncan towards the ocean without comment, her stomach somersaulting as she tried to recall what she had heard about the trials the Scottish Buddhists put people through. There was an undisclosed test of faith, often described as facing the fear of one’s own mortality. She shivered as she remembered all the times she’d thought she might die. At least she was no stranger to the contemplation of her end.

  The heavy cloud cover kept the day from brightening too much, and few people were out at this hour. And the fewer people, the less noise. They walked past the Pavilion, heading through the gardens to reach the hill which would lead up towards the monastery.

  She tried to shrink herself, uncertain how safe it was to be travelling in the open. But Duncan had known her as a child – if he felt it was safe to move, she trusted him. Still, her instincts were difficult to ignore.

  In the distance, to the north, she could make out the protrusions from the Duke’s Picture House; the stripe-covered legs extended into the sky; giving the impression that someone had fallen through the roof. Apart from making Brighton the quirky place it was, the Picture House was a good landmark for keeping her oriented,

  The grass was damp, and Kai found her pace slowing, lagging behind Duncan, taking care not to slip as they climbed the hill. Eventually, they were only a few metres from the edge of the cliffs. One mis-step and she could tumble right into the sea.

  It was quieter here, and the smell was markedly better, although the water and wind brought their own voices to the air around her.

  “You are well, though?” Duncan’s voice was distant. Having heightened hearing didn’t help her pick his voice out over the wind.

  She resisted the urge to shout her response. “I am. Are you?”

  “Indeed.”

  He had never been a big talker, but she’d not known him before he enrolled, which she understood often altered people’s language. Someone seeking enlightenment would be aware of the impact of their words upon those around them.

  He led her closer to the edge, where the air was tainted with the salt ocean spray. She had forgotten how easy it was to walk from city to national park. She tensed as they reached the overhang, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of followers.

  Gulls chattered away and she spied a guillemot bobbing about on the waves as they crashed against the rock-face. Don’t focus on the sounds. She’d be overwhelmed if she tried to single out any sound, so she kept her attention fixed on her other senses. Her nose wrinkled at the strength of smells, seaweed and droppings colliding with fresh scent of the sea.

  “Here we go.” Duncan knelt beside the edge of a worn crevice, and attached his rope to a hook drilled into the rock. He tossed the rope over the edge, and stood back expectantly.

  Kai froze.

  “Would you like to go first, or second?”

  Kai clamped her mouth shut before her answer could escape her. Neither. “I . . . I don’t understand.”

  Duncan showed no loss of patience or frustration. But she felt the weight of his stare.

  “I didn’t realise. I . . .” Oh stop stuttering Kai. “I’m sorry. I’d like to go second, please.”

  He nodded, and with a surprising amount of grace for such a large man, he lowered himself over the precipice in a single motion, vanishing from view. Kai had never rock-climbed in her life, and the idea of grappling down a cliff-face didn’t sound like fun to her.

  A first storey window in an attempt to avoid death was a much different situation to willingly clambering onto a rope over a cliff.

  She knelt beside the rope, telling herself not to look down. She let herself breathe heavily for a few moments, to release the panic in her chest. Then a shout from below snapped her out of it. She had to go now, before she lost her nerve completely. This had to be part of the test.

  Slowly, she crawled around to face the field, eyes locking on the crest of the hill. Then she stepped backwards, careful to tense her arms and grip the rope carefully. She whispered to herself, though she could barely hear her own voice over the roaring wind. “It’s just like back home, stepping back onto the ladder from the attic. Come on, Kai.”

  But when her feet scrabbled and failed to find a foothold, the panic surged once more. She was going to fall and die. Or worse, she’d survive, but be a vegetable. Her hip twinged, as if warning her against the possibility. If this was just the journey to speak with the lama, what would the test be?

  But as she panicked, her body began to respond to her aching arms and she slowly descended the rope. She’d taken on many missions and always come out okay. Her movements were stiff and her wrists throbbed, but she was getting nearer.

  She remembered Duncan packing the rope, coil after coil – just how long was it? How far down would she need to descend?

  By the time she gathered the nerve to look down, she was only a few metres from a rocky lip. She let herself drop the last couple of feet, sighing deeply.

  “Duncan?” The man was gone.

  There was a small crevice cut into the rock, but she could see no light or movement within. She would need to crawl, if this was the only opening.

  “Kai?” His voice came from below her.

  You have got to be kidding.

  She glanced over the edge, and saw him, another forty feet below her. This time, she moved before the fear could manifest. She grasped the rope again, and swung herself over the edge, slithering down as fast as her hands could shift.

  He put an arm out to steady her as she landed, the rest of the rope pooling at her feet. “Here we are. Remember to be respectful.”

  They were on a small rocky beach. Kai resisted the urge to bend over, hands on knees, and pant away the terror. She had to act like a Circlet member. She was a dignified and blessed being, after all.

  She glanced back towards the city, hidden from where she stood by the curve of the cliffs. She could still see the remains of the pier, jutting out into the sea, and that brought her comfort. Although the ocean birds drowned out the city’s noises, she wasn’t too far away.

  When they stepped inside the cave, her skin prickled at the temperature change, and she was able to see light glowing at the end of a long tunnel. A few hangings decorated the walls, and candles rested in metal holders, spaced at regular intervals. At the far end of the tunnel, a shadow against the light, a figure sat in the lotus position. She wore orange robes, and she was young and pale, her blonde hair tied in a bun. Scottish travellers had taken the Buddhist teachings and made their own sect on the edge of Brighton’s bohemian lifestyle. This woman was a modern, Brighton-style Rinpoche, complete with eyebrow piercing and an aqua streak through one side of her hair.

  Kai swallowed, and approached, lagging slightly behind Duncan. It was so strange to come from the bustle of buzzing community into a quiet, dark cave. She’d been brought up in Brighton, and had learned many teachings from them, but in theory, Circlet girls wer
e separate from all the different factions. She could only hope they would lend her aid. The lama met her eyes and smiled benignly. One of the knots in Kai’s stomach dissolved.

  “You seek shelter?” Her voice was pleasant, without cruelty. Perhaps she could see reason.

  “Yes.” Kai bowed her head, cursing herself for not remembering the proper address. Her training had been thorough, but a decade of fending for herself had eroded many of the customs she’d been taught as a child. “I request the hospitality of the monastery, and of the Brighton Buddhist Centre. I am a devotee of the Circlet, and I am in danger.”

  Sinead Rinpoche continued to smile. “Living is dangerous, for us all.”

  Kai scrambled through Duncan’s words, seeking something to offer the lama. “I wish to share my teachings.”

  “And to learn, no?”

  Kai hesitated, looking around. On one side, the tunnel opened out into a small side room with a table; separated from the main tunnel by a carved archway. “Yes. To learn of your teachings, your dharma.”

  The smile didn’t change. “You will remain with us for a while, even once the threat has passed. We will clothe and shelter you, help you to prepare meals. And in return you shall teach us combat.”

  Kai felt her cheeks burn. “Combat, Your Holiness?”

  “We do not fight yet.”

  “Fighting is not a noble cause. I had hoped to avoid it here.”

  The lama’s eyes closed. “The Royalists force our hand, and we fear the wars in Asia and Russia will soon find us.”

  Kai bit her lip. What could she say to that?

  Footsteps sounded behind them, and Kai followed Duncan as he stepped to one side. The lama’s expression did not change.

  Something familiar about the boy set off Kai’s internal alarms.

  She looked at Duncan, and then at the lama; neither had moved. The two servants behind the lama’s chair stood with neutral expressions. This was the sanctuary of an important order member. If her memory served her, visitors were very rare. Yet the boy seemed to know the way, and Duncan did not question him. He walked up to the lama, bowed, and extended one hand, holding the other in his cloak.

 

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