by Ino Lee
“I wish I could tell you otherwise.”
“What should we do now?”
“Tell your men to be on guard. It’s going to get worse.”
“More zhuk kwais?”
“I would prepare for it.” Wong looked out the window and eyed the other lookout towers. “Keep your distance in the treetops with arrows first. You should be fine in the towers. And long spears—arm yourselves with them. They’ll be more effective than swords.”
Something in the tone of Wong’s comment hinted at his departure.
“Are you leaving us?” Ming asked.
“Yes.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Southwest . . . to find out what draws us.”
Ming sat quietly in thought again, noting Wong’s use of the word us.
“Don’t worry,” Wong said, trying to alleviate some of the worry he cast on the ranger. “Zhuks don’t climb trees very well.”
“That is good to hear.”
“But they may knock one down occasionally.” A quick smirk followed.
Ming was not sure if he was kidding or being serious. He decided it was a little of both.
“It’s good we have more than one tree then.”
He lifted his cup, nodded, and took a sip.
After finishing their breakfast, Wong prepared to leave. He began to pack his belongings, including rations and an assortment of weapons. Ming stared at the weapons with great interest, unsure of what some of them were or how they worked. Various metal objects protruded from Wong’s traveling garb, and his carrying pack clinked when set down on the floor, hinting at more deadly weapons within. Curiously, he seemed extra careful when handling the most innocent looking weapon of them all—his plain black staff. The Dragon Arm, he called it, as he bounced it back and forth in his arms.
With that, the Weapons Master wished Ming and the rangers well and stepped out of the tree post.
“Will you be back this way?” Ming asked.
“I don’t know,” he said after furrowing his eyes. “I’ll try to send word back to you when I get to the bottom of this.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll cut down anything that comes our way,” Ming said, trying to impress him. “And be careful. You’re not as tough as you think.”
Wong flashed back a grin. He sprang from tree to tree and quickly disappeared from view.
1
IT WAS EARLY afternoon when Kai sat by the edge of the creek. He often wandered there after lunch to stare at the ripples in the water as they caught the sun’s rays. The liquid canvas was an endless pattern of changing shadows and reflected sunlight—a mixture of light and darkness. Kai dipped his hand in the water and swished it around gently, watching the waves he created interact with those of the creek.
He was a young boy of about eight and lived in the farming village of Dailan. His father owned a small plot of land on which to farm and grow rice, beans, and an assortment of vegetables. Young as he was, Kai had already begun to take on many of the farm’s chores. Today he would take a break from his farming responsibilities to do some fishing, something he had become quite adept at. Though the creek that ran through their village had few fish, he managed to make a catch each time he went out. Often villagers would spend an entire day by the side of the stream only to return home empty-handed. Kai, however, had no such problems.
With his fishing rod lying on the ground and off to the side, he appeared as if he was in a trance; his eyes were closed and his hand dangled lifelessly in the water. His breath was slow and steady, and he looked as though he were a monk in the deep of a daily meditation. The sun cast a warm glow on the earth and Kai could feel its rays on his back. All seemed calm in the world. All was steady.
Violently, the water splashed up from where his hand touched the water. A large glistening fish appeared in its grasp, held high overhead. Drops of water sprinkled the air and sparkled in the sunlight. Kai opened his eyes and smiled, partially surprised by the weight of the catch and the speed of his reflexes.
It was the twelfth time he had been able to catch a fish in such a manner, and each time he was wholly impressed. He continued to bring his fishing pole as a backup in case his skill failed, but each time it endured. He would always just walk back to the same spot on the stream and reach into the water with his eyes closed. He would feel the energy of the river as it passed through his hands, and then, as if by its own accord, his hand would jerk up and a juicy fish would appear.
He looked over the writhing fish and examined its silvery scales, grasping it firmly with both hands. Satisfied with its quality, he dropped it into his fishing basket and set it aside. The fish by itself was large enough that he could afford to take the rest of the afternoon off. He hadn’t told his parents about his skill yet, deciding it was better to let them think he sat by the creek all day. This way, he could relax rather than attend to his chores shoveling cow manure and fertilizing fields.
He spent the remainder of the afternoon daydreaming and flinging rocks into the water. He watched hawks hover patiently overhead before dive-bombing into the water, reappearing with fish in their talons. In fact, Kai’s idea to fish with his bare hands was first inspired by them. He would often wait hours for something to bite on his fishing line while the hawks easily swept up fish around him, so he lunged his hands into the water in an attempt to do the same. It was not long before he perfected his skill.
Watching birds had become one of his favorite pastimes. He envied how they soared high in the sky and his curiosity was piqued further by the variety of colors, shapes, and sizes they came in. He noted their unique songs and the different ways they foraged for food.
He rose up from his spot by the stream, an eye toward the forest where more birds could be found.
A hawk landed in a nearby tree and let out several shrill cries. Kai made his way over to investigate when a sudden chill came over him. Something in the trees moved—not high in the branches, but lower, near the base of the tree. Abruptly, the bird he spotted flew away. He froze and stared at the spot where he thought he saw activity. It was as if a shadow shifted in the shade of the trees. His heart raced and his temples throbbed. The forest grew eerily silent. Even the birds stopped chirping. Though nothing looked out of the ordinary, he got the distinct feeling he was being watched.
Perhaps it was just a rabbit or some other small animal he had frightened off with his approach. Regardless, he turned around and walked quickly back to his fishing gear. He glanced back over his shoulder several more times while doing so. It was about time to leave anyway and the bird he wanted to look at flew away. And though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he was spooked. So he picked up his gear and started back home.
Kai arrived back in his village half an hour later. The village was a relatively small one, consisting of a dozen or so different families and their respective farms. Each family differed in size. Kai’s was the smallest, and in addition to himself, included just his mother and his father. The largest family had twenty.
A main road led to a clearing that was the nerve center of the community. Here, the families gathered to interact and socialize. Simple public buildings surrounded the clearing and included a general store, a school, and a meeting hall. There was also a large bell that hung from a wooden post, used to call meetings and summon the children to school. A water well allowed the passerby to rest and stop for a drink. Although small, the town square afforded the village the luxury of community. Together, they tended to the upkeep of the buildings and took turns teaching at the school. They were a close-knit group and considered themselves fortunate.
Kai passed by the well and looked around. Today, the clearing was being decorated and prepped for the upcoming Moon Festival. Lanterns were being hung from wires connecting the rooftops of the buildings overhead. He looked at them curiously and wondered how they would appear at night. Unfortunatel
y, they would not be lit until the night of the new moon, which was a week away, and coincidentally, his birthday.
“Hello Kai,” shouted Yi, who was standing on the roof of one of the buildings.
He held a hanging wire used to secure the lanterns, and was busy fixing it to a post.
“Hi.” Kai waved back.
“What’s that? Another fish?”
Kai nodded and smiled.
“How big?”
He opened the basket.
“Wai! That’s a nice one!”
Other workers peered over the side of the roof to look. Kai grew embarrassed by the attention.
“Maybe I will come by and sneak a taste later?”
“Okay. Bye bye,” Kai replied and waved.
He left the clearing and swerved onto a road that would take him home.
“Fish for dinner!” Kai proclaimed as he arrived back home.
He put his gear aside and placed the basket on an outdoor table where meals were often prepared.
“Aiya! Again?” Kai’s mother, Mae, exclaimed. “You are getting better every time.”
She gave him a hug.
“I will clean this up and cook it tonight,” she said as she peered into the basket. “What a beautiful fish.”
Kai looked up and smiled, pleased with his work.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Go inside and take a nap.”
“Okay,” he responded, turning to the doorway of their cottage.
He entered a small but cozy home made of bamboo and straw. A room off to the side served as the master bedroom where his parents slept, but Kai, being the only child, had no room of his own. Instead, he slept on a raised platform in the rear of the house.
He walked past a common area that served as both a kitchen and a living room, and into an alcove. It was late in the afternoon now and the sun would set in a couple of hours. Once he woke up, he figured it would be just in time for dinner, so he climbed into bed and pulled a sheet over his head to block out the daylight.
Meanwhile, Mae left the fish basket on the table and decided to attend to some fieldwork before preparing dinner. Her husband, Ben, was working in the fields and she wanted to tell him about Kai’s latest catch.
She grabbed a garden hoe from the tool shed and walked over. Ben was dressed in white working clothes and wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. He was of medium build and was well-tanned from working in the sun.
Mae settled in next to him and started tilling the earth. She looked tiny and gentle in comparison.
“He’s done it again,” she said.
Ben lifted an eyebrow.
“The biggest one yet.” She held out her hands to show him the approximate size of the fish.
“Wo,” Ben beamed. “Our little one is beginning to get quite scary. Not just the fish. The other day a bug flew by. He watched it fly around and then reached out and picked it out of the air. Just like that. He looked at it in his hand and then let it go and off it went.”
Mae smiled. “Maybe he will grow up to be a Shaolin warrior.”
Ben laughed. “Or maybe just a very good fisherman.”
After tilling the fields for a little while longer, Mae decided it was time to start the preparations for dinner.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “I’ll start dinner.”
She stood up and brushed the dirt from her knees.
“Okay,” Ben said. “I’ll finish up shortly and join you.”
Excited by the prospect of a nice fish dinner, she left the fields and hurried back to their cottage, wondering how she should prepare the meal. She would either steam it with ginger or fry it with black bean sauce. Since Kai caught the fish, she would let him decide.
The basket appeared on the outdoor table and she eagerly went over to open its lid.
She let out a loud shriek and jumped back in horror. The fish that had been fine just before was now foul and rotted. Unless Kai was playing a terrible trick on her, something very unnatural was occurring.
Her mind then shifted to her son, as mothers’ minds often do when they are frightened. Remembering that Kai went inside to take a nap, she rushed to make sure he was okay. She passed by the front window of their house and peered in.
A sudden chill came over her. Because it was late in the day, the interior of the house was only dimly lit, but in the back of the room, she thought she saw something move—a shadow that shifted in the darkness. She stared at the shadow and saw it had form—a head, and now arms that reached out. It was tall and immensely frightening.
And it was looking straight at her.
She tried to scream but could only gasp for air. The seconds that passed felt more like hours. Mae’s heart pounded, her breath grew heavy, and her gasps turned to shrieks.
Kai dreamed a most unnatural dream. He dreamt he was an eagle, soaring high above the earth. From the skies, he could see his tiny village and his mother and father in the fields. He could see the Great Wall stretching across the earth with all its magnificent towers and parapets guarding against the wild lands. Then he saw a bright light he thought was the sun and flew toward it. It drew him near, and when he got close, he found that it was not the sun after all, but a great white temple.
His dream changed and he was no longer a bird. A dark figured loomed over him and reached out with large claw-like fingers. He held out his hands and tried to fight it off, but it grabbed his arm near the shoulder and held him tight. He thought he could hear it whispering words, but couldn’t understand it. His shoulder burned and he began to scream.
Mae worked up the courage to shout.
Hearing his mother, Kai shifted in his bed and sat up. He saw the shadow form above his head and thought for a second he might still be dreaming.
Mae opened the door and ran into the house, shouting at the evil spirit to leave, gesturing it away with her hands. The figure hunched over like it was about to spring on her, but then jetted out of the house through the walls.
Kai burst into tears and Mae ran over to embrace him. She rocked him back and forth in her arms and told him that everything was going to be all right.
The room now seemed eerily quiet.
Ben crashed through the front doors with his gardening rake held out like a weapon. He looked around the room and lowered his arms when he saw no danger.
“What happened?”
After enough time had passed to settle her nerves, Mae quietly explained to Ben everything she had seen: the rotted fish, the sudden chill, and the specter that floated above Kai.
Stories of evil spirits coming to take away newborns had often been told before, but she always considered them superstitious old wives’ tales. Kai was also a young boy, not an infant. Yet she could not explain what had happened or shake the feeling that an evil spirit had indeed come to take her child away. She heard of evil creatures, demons, and devils inhabiting the Koon Kagi—but never here. And not one like this.
Ben, too, thought it unusual. Without knowing what else to do or say, he sat quietly and embraced them, hoping his presence alone would provide enough comfort.
The evening wore on with Ben hoping things would return to normal, but the fading sunlight only put their nerves further on edge. He put out several more oil lanterns than usual to provide extra light for the evening. Mae recognized his intentions and appreciated the effort, but did not feel much better. She tried to put on a strong face for dinner.
A small and simple meal was prepared since no one had much of an appetite. They sat quietly at a table and passed around soup bowls of rice, filling them with vegetable, mushroom, and a piece of egg.
There was a loud rapping at the door. Startled, their heads darted up and Ben jumped from his seat.
“Hello?” a voice inquired.
Mae sighed with re
lief. Ben looked around to make sure everyone was all right and then smiled. Though the knock couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time, it was enough to break the tension in the room. A visitor was a welcome distraction.
“Come in,” Ben said.
Yi appeared with a pot in his hands.
“Trade you stewed pork for leftover fish?”
He looked around and could tell by the looks on their faces that something was wrong; the feeling he got was one of walking into the middle of an argument.
“I’m sorry, I thought you would be done with dinner by now. I didn’t mean to disturb.”
“We got a late start,” Mae said hesitantly. “Sorry, but there’s no fish.”
“Oh . . . well you can still have some of our leftover pork if you want.”
“Have a seat,” Ben said. “We just have some soup bowls if you’re still hungry.”
“Soup bowls?” Yi’s eyebrows rose. “That could go well with pork.”
He took a seat at the table.
His presence helped them feel normal again. They kept the conversation light and did not talk about what had happened. Fortunately, Yi was somewhat of a chatterbox and kept the conversation going by talking about how he almost fell off the roof while hanging a lantern.
When the meal was finally over, Ben stepped outside and told him the story of the apparition, sparing Mae and Kai the pain of hearing it recounted again. Yi was shocked and equally confused. He had never heard of such a thing, but suggested they burn incense to keep the spirits away. Since they did not have any, he fetched some from his house next door. He too would burn incense, fearful for his own children.
That night Kai slept in his parents’ room. An oil lamp was left on and incense burned all night. Mae and Ben had difficulty sleeping, fearful that the spirit would return. Kai began to sense something strange about the cottage too, though he did not talk about it. It had lost its cozy, homelike feel and now appeared cold and frightening. Perhaps tomorrow, he thought, everything would be back to normal.