by Ino Lee
The Mark: Chi Warriors (Book One)
Copyright © 2014 by Ino Lee.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-9915895-0-0
e-ISBN: 978-0-9915895-1-7
PROLOGUE
WONG AWOKE WITH a start. A pang of fear coursed through his body as though a rabid animal had attacked him in his sleep. He could not remember the nightmare, but it was haunting, and it kept him from sleeping. Sitting up in his rigid bed of bamboo and straw, he rubbed his face, groggy and confused.
He made his way over to the window of his treetop watchtower and peered out for signs of trouble. He slept thirty feet above the forest ground, in a tree house made of thatch and branches. It was cradled in the boughs of a large and winding oak, hidden from the earth below by the tree’s thick and leafy branches, yet easily distinguishable once amidst the treetops. There were other watchtowers scattered in that section of the forest too, all within proximity and similarly camouflaged.
The watchtower guarded a road that passed by the outskirts of the town of Tzhiang Doon, extending south from a broad range of mountains and valleys that dotted the territory. The air was musty and chill with a night’s cooling and the road was empty and quiet. Wong looked for signs of anything unusual. He followed the trail with his eye up toward the mountains, barely lit by the new light of dawn and misty with the morning fog, and noticed nothing out of place. Nothing could be heard either, save the shrill cry of a hawk in the distance.
Still, Wong felt uneasy. He looked toward the opposite watchtower and saw Ming, the head lookout ranger, on guard. Ming waved, and Wong nodded in return. He then looked southwest toward the dark of the forest and stared there at length.
A great uneasiness stirred within. It was as if something called out to him.
Breathing in the morning dew, he tried to settle his nerves and clear his mind. Still he could not shake the feeling. He shivered in the morning air and drew a cloak, shrugging off his restlessness. He walked back to his bamboo bunk, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
The ring of heavy metal jarred the forest.
Once again Wong was shaken from his sleep, but this time with reason. A guard in another tree was banging wildly at a gong—its sound spreading warning through the forest and down into the village below. The sun had barely crept higher in the sky since Wong last saw it, and he figured it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since he was last awake. There was commotion and movement on the forest floor. Three strange figures bolted away from the tree where the gong was being sounded, with a pair of rangers in pursuit.
Wong looked for the closest weapon at hand and grabbed a sheathed sword and a bola hanging from the wall. He leapt out of the window and onto a thick branch, not wanting to lose sight of the action.
He scurried along its length and jumped onto the bough of a neighboring tree, continually tracking the action and moving across the treetops as easily and gracefully as a squirrel on the run.
Moving in covertly for a closer look at what was transpiring below, he spotted the three hooded figures. One of the figures was much larger than the other two—curiously large for a human. The shape and movements of the others seemed odd and unnatural too.
Up in front popped two more forest rangers, alerted by the warning gong and closing in.
“Halt!” they yelled, drawing their weapons.
The strangers did not waver and continued on.
When the parties were within reach, one of the rangers lunged at the foremost trespasser with his sword. The large hooded intruder raised an arm from beneath his robe and blocked with a small buckler. He plowed into the ranger and slammed him with a shielded backhand, the force of which threw the ranger into a tree trunk some distance away.
The intruder then slashed at the remaining guard with a wicked looking blade that was long and sharp, with wavy edges that culminated into a spade-shaped axe head. The guard managed to raise his sword to barely knock aside the swing, but the stranger kept on, slashing and thrusting, finally overpowering him.
A shade of unease came across Wong’s face. He recognized the blade of the enemy. It was a spaded sword-axe, a weapon typically used by zhuk kwais—large mountain demons covered in hair with horns like that of a ram. They stood almost eight feet tall with wide bodies and thick muscles. Mostly keeping to the mountains of the wild lands, they were powerful creatures rarely seen—but here stood one in the outskirts of Tzhiang Doon. Its sheer presence was concerning and led Wong to believe that something more insidious was afoot.
Reaching for the bola by his side, he took aim, wishing instead that he had chosen a more powerful weapon from the tree tower; a bow and quiver full of arrows would do nicely now. He whirled the bola above his head and unleashed it at the larger creature. It hummed as it sailed through the air, and with a snap, wrapped itself around the zhuk kwai’s legs. The beast jolted forward, crashed headfirst into the forest floor, and slid for several feet, kicking up leaves and mounds of dirt with its momentum.
Instantly, Wong dropped from the treetops and materialized on the ground behind the fallen creature. He crouched with his back to the zhuk upon landing and then stood to face the other two.
“Don’t be shy,” he said as he unsheathed a sword strung across his back. “Let’s see what’s beneath those hoods.”
The two replied with a hiss and a snarl.
Wong made a face.
The first figure pushed back its hood to reveal a cruel and twisted snake-like head. Dagwai, Wong thought, or devil lizard, as the farmers and villagers called it.
It lifted up a sword and rushed while the second lizard produced a spiked mace. The sword-wielding dagwai closed the distance quickly and bore down on Wong with an overhead slash, but he knocked it aside and lifted the butt of his blade to meet the lizard’s face, leveling it to the ground. The second creature followed by charging and swinging wildly, but Wong anticipated and dodged every stroke.
Despite being distracted by the dagwais, he felt the sudden presence of the more dangerous zhuk behind him and glanced back just in time to catch the glimmer of its sword-axe in his eye. He jolted to the side and watched the mountain demon’s blade slice past his face, into the mace-bearing dagwai in front of him, splitting its head in two.
Wong grabbed onto the zhuk’s outstretched arm as leverage, kicked it once in the head, and followed with a punch to its thick neck that rocked the creature back on its heels.
The pursuing forest rangers finally caught up to the party to see the first dagwai rising to its feet, recovering from its earlier blow from Wong’s hilt. The foremost ranger clashed with the dagwai, but was knocked off his feet when the lizard swept him with its tail. Fortunately, Ming, the second ranger, backed his attack with a spear thrust, stabbing and killing it.
Angered by the turn of events and the loss of its companions, the zhuk backed off and howled thunderously, exposing long and sharp incisors that gave it the look of a rabid dog. Its powerful lungs shook the earth, a primal scream carrying throughout the valley. It stood tall on its heels and stretched its arms up in the air, shedding its cloak and adding length to its already massive frame.
A chill ra
n up the spine of the forest rangers and their faces grew pale. Wong could tell they had never seen a zhuk before.
The beast lowered its arms and snorted, allowing silence to return to the forest except for the sound of its heavy breath. Without moving, it did something that terrified the rangers—it shifted the pupil of its eye in their direction.
The rangers panicked and Ming clumsily fumbled for his spear. He finally managed to hurl it at the zhuk, but the beast plucked it out of the air and snapped it in two with a single hand. It snarled and charged.
“Get back!” Wong cried. He positioned himself between them, cutting off the attack and giving his companions time to escape.
The zhuk kwai paused and watched as the rangers pulled away. Then it refocused its attention on Wong. He was the greater threat.
It stampeded, swinging its sword-axe with both hands—playful slaps at the air meant to test his defenses rather than kill him outright. Wong leapt back with each swing, choosing to evade the blows rather than block or deflect them.
The rangers attempted to move in closer, but Wong signaled them back for their own safety. He could not afford any distractions while engaged with this enemy.
The beast escalated its assault, thrusting its horns like a rampaging mountain goat, chasing him and crashing into tree trunks. Leaves rustled and the boughs of the great oaks shuddered with each collision. The mountain beast did not let up and drove him into the thick of the forest. Though Wong managed to evade the attacks, he was in continual retreat, seemingly unable to mount a resistance.
But Wong was a more cunning warrior than appeared. While he failed to even lift his sword in defense, he strategically led the zhuk into thicker forest where the trees would make it difficult to move around. There, he could use his agility and quickness as an advantage over the larger and clumsier foe.
When he was finally satisfied with his whereabouts, he paused in front of a tree and lowered both arms, daring it to attack. Taking the bait, the beast clenched its teeth excitedly and swung, only to find that its target had disappeared. The momentum of its blade carried it deep into the trunk of a tree. As the sword-axe remained lodged, Wong reappeared to slash and wound it.
The zhuk reeled and tore its weapon from the tree, sending splinters flying. Angrily, it hacked at Wong and pursued in a frenzied onslaught, severing branches and cutting down small limbs, but never hitting its intended target. The forest was being torn to shreds but all it could do was hack at the wood, branches, and leaves that filled the air while Wong danced through it.
Suddenly—a spiked mace . . . now teeth and claws. One devil lizard, and then another. They appeared from nowhere and attacked. Wong backed off, pursued further by violent swipes of sword-axe. He wound intricately through the trees again and wondered if more undiscovered creatures lay in wait.
A dagwai caught up to him. Wong reached for a tree branch and sliced through it, arming himself with a leafy appendage. The dagwai struck repeatedly, but he parried with sword and branch. He smacked the side of its head with his limb and buried its face in leaves, then thrust his sword through the foliage. The dagwai fell dead to the ground.
The zhuk struck and sheared off half his branch. Wong tossed the remaining brush in its face, then pivoted to block a strike from the remaining dagwai and sliced low, cutting its leg. With an upward flick, he finished it off and sprang away.
The destruction of the forest resumed. Tiring and aware of its futility, the zhuk started thrusting its weapon instead of slashing, to avoid hitting the trees. The strategy helped, but pinpointing Wong with an attack was difficult. It waited patiently for an opening and followed him eagerly, spotting him here and there only to see him disappear through the shadows again.
All at once, it saw him clearly.
It locked its sights onto his form and charged. When the zhuk was within reach, it thrust its weapon forward, but up leapt Wong, back over the head of the sword-axe and onto the side of a tree. Using the trunk as a springboard, Wong bounced and twisted, back-kicking the zhuk with tremendous force.
The zhuk stumbled back and tripped, falling onto the recently severed trunk of a young oak—its weight impaling and killing it. Wong breathed heavily and kept his eye on the massive carcass, making sure it did not move.
The silence that followed was broken by the sound of the rangers making their way through the woodland. Ming was the first to arrive on the scene. He slowed his pace and lowered his weapon when he saw them.
“Never seen one of those before,” he said, gazing at the fallen beast in bewilderment.
Wong sheathed his sword. “It’s a zhuk kwai demon. Very powerful.”
Ming nodded, the image of the howling beast still fresh in his mind.
“I am glad that you are here, Weapons Master.”
At that, more rangers arrived to observe. They crowded around the beast and chattered, marveling at its size and strength, worried that more would come. Ming soon broke them up and ordered that the carcasses be disposed of, and their belongings gathered and examined.
“We must prepare and be on guard,” he said to them. “There may be more of these things coming through. Already five dagwais have been slain this week.”
High above the ground in a lookout tower, Ming and Wong settled in at a makeshift table. Hot tea and breakfast pastries awaited them. Ming also brought smoked sardines in case Wong developed more of an appetite after the fight, but he declined and waved them off. This morning, just plain tea would do for him.
Wong sat quietly and looked out the window. He appeared aloof and distracted, listening to the sound of a chirping bird. Ming poured a cup of hot tea and placed it before him.
“Thank you,” Wong said. He picked up the cup and sipped it.
Ming spoke. “Tell me something—could you sense them coming?”
Wong raised an eyebrow.
“You looked troubled this morning when you first awoke. I thought perhaps it had something to do with the creatures.”
“No . . . it wasn’t because of them.” He took another sip of his tea, but did not offer any more details.
“Please continue,” Ming said. “You appear here soon after the first dagwais were spotted, and now this. This morning you stare off into the forest . . . your face full of thought and worry. I cannot presume to know the meaning of these things and have refrained from asking, but you have kept mostly to yourself and offered little explanation.”
“That’s because I have little explanation.”
Ming looked away and pressed his lips, unsatisfied by Wong’s response. He wanted to ask more, but found himself somewhat intimidated. They had barely spoken since Wong’s arrival and he knew him only by reputation; though he looked more like a young noble than a seasoned warrior, the stories about him marked him as one of the most dangerous fighters ever to come out of Shaolin. There was a cold look in his gaze that made Ming hesitant to ask too many questions, but he needed answers. He would have to do it tactfully.
“Please,” Ming began again. “If you could . . . battle with a zhuk is a rare thing for us. Any information you could share would help us greatly.”
Wong shot him a look that made Ming nervous, but his expression softened.
“Sorry . . . I’m still trying to figure this out myself.” He sighed and then scratched his chin. “Let’s start from the beginning. You’ve heard about the destruction of Tanjin, along the eastern forest, right?”
“Yes, it was one of the main posts guarding the forests against the Koon Gee.”
“After it fell there was an influx of the enemy.”
“Yes, that is why we are commissioned to guard these forests now.”
“I was tracking this influx. I wondered why these creatures traveled so far inland and followed them here. I wasn’t sure if it was significant, but now a mountain zhuk appears, so I guess there must be more to the story.”
“Your scouts killed them before I got here.”
“Do you know why they would have come here?” “No.”
Ming reached for a breakfast roll and pondered Wong’s statements. He took a bite and washed it down with some tea before offering his thoughts again.
“Koon Gee do not usually travel during the day, which means they were in great haste. Also, they traveled with a zhuk, which means they traveled with purpose. Wherever they were going must have been of great importance.” He shook his head. “This does not bode well for us.”
“No,” Wong replied.
“There is nothing important in these parts. Do you think they could have run out of resources in the Koon Gee mainland—the Koon Kagi?”
“I doubt they would expand here.”
Wong debated something in his head and then spoke.
“I need to tell you something. You might not understand.”
Ming sat up attentively.
“Ever since I got here I’ve developed a sense I can’t fully explain to you. I am drawn to something in the southwest . . . it’s where the Koon Gee are headed. They’re on the hunt and more will come. They’re being drawn, just like me.”
“Drawn? What do you mean, drawn?”
“Called from afar. They are following a lo-shur mark I think—”
“A lo-shur mark? How do you know?”
“It’s just a feeling.”
“And it calls to the demons, and you?”
“Yes.”
Ming’s expression was one of disbelief. He looked at Wong with crossed eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Wong said with a smirk. “I’m no demon.”
“No, of course not.”
The head lookout ranger sat pensively. He did not know what to make of the news. He shook his head and refocused on matters at hand.
“Are we to expect more trouble?”
“Yes.”
His face grew flush. “I do not like what I have seen this day. I can only imagine what may come at night.”