by CJ Whrite
As Roland stepped up to Li Ho, Li Ho pointed at the dummies and simply said, “Kill.”
There were two dummies, one roughly twenty paces from Roland, the other about forty.
Roland’s left hand curled behind him and pulled the crossbow clear. With his right, he pulled the claws back down the stock. The wings now strung, the two bowstrings was rock-hard with tension. He slipped a bolt into the track below the wooden wing, and another into the hidden bolt-channel.
Roland lifted the crossbow and pulled the trigger. The wooden wing punched forward and a bolt struck the furthest dummy high in the shoulder with a thump – it sounded as if the cloth was padded with something. He swung the crossbow over and pressed the wooden nub high on the grip with his thumb. The small metal wing sang as it released, and a bolt disappeared into the closest dummy’s throat, sinking into the wooden board behind it.
“Throat shot good,” said Li Ho. “When enemy close, aim for head or throat – both will kill quickly.
“When enemy far, aim for chest or stomach. Stomach wound not kill outright, but great pain and enemy not fight back. Chest only when have clear shot and aim for heart. If not hit heart, enemy can still fight back if strong. Or put poison on bolt, anyplace kill then.”
“No,” said Roland. He was prepared to kill, but using poison would sully everything that Pelron had taught him. “I won’t use poison.”
“Then practise more,” said Li Ho, unfazed. “Again.”
For the next hour, Roland repeatedly shot bolts into the dummies, and by the end, his left arm shook with exhaustion.
“Very good,” said Li Ho, as the last bolts slammed into the dummies. “Have good eye, and learn quick. Make this last one. Load once more and stand ready.”
As Roland stood ready, Li Ho took a small wooden plank from the fold of his shirt and threw it into the air. Roland followed the plank’s flight and at its apex, he pulled the trigger. The first bolt slammed into the plank and it split in two, the two pieces whirling apart. In a split-second, he decided on the larger piece and pushed the nub. The metal-wing sang, but the second bolt ricocheted from the spinning piece.
“Once more,” said Roland, dissatisfied.
“No, finished,” said Li Ho, and Roland did not bother to argue. “Tomorrow start with throwing knives. Shoot bolt, then throw knife – one motion. When bow and knives good, teach to use zhutou. When zhutou good, teach to use fist and feet.
“Why not teach me zhutou and unarmed now?’
“Because you move like sick cow. First learn to move quick and have good balance, then I teach close killing,” Li Ho said, and pointed to a wooden bucket with a rope handle. “Take bucket and make full at waterhole. Run all the way, not spill water. If bucket not enough water when back – I send again. If take too long – I send again. ... Start now.”
Flushed with embarrassment Roland grabbed the bucket and ran toward the deer trail leading to the waterhole.
Jeklor snorted as Roland passed him.
Roland swore under his breath.
Chapter 14
Weeks turned to months, months turned to seasons, and the uneventful life in the woods started to grate on Jeklor’s nerves. Roland spent everyday doing ... well, whatever he was doing. Jeklor had never seen a man more determined or working so hard, and frankly, it made him uncomfortable.
Andros and Dragon took to the quiet life naturally, and they were satisfied working for Li Ho and occasionally helping with Roland’s training. Andros had turned out to be a surprisingly patient hunter, and using one of Li Ho’s bows, he made sure that there was fresh meat every night. Dragon again, belying his clumsy and slow manner, had made an assortment of different sandals, and once Li Ho had showed him how to use flax, wool and cotton, he had weaved them all heavy cloaks for the winter, including more tunics, trousers and shirts than one man could possible use in his lifetime.
It was not that Jeklor did not appreciate what Roland and Li Ho had done for him, but he felt that he needed something else. Maybe it was because he grew up in the streets of Darma, used to the hustle and bustle of the city, or maybe it was because he could find nothing to contribute as Andros and Dragon did, because each day saw his spirit dampening further.
And then, on one particularly clear and cold morning, a flash of inspiration struck Jeklor. After a quick conversation with Dragon – through which Dragon had clapped his hands excitedly – Jeklor tied all the apparel and sandals Dragon had made into a bundle, lifted it onto his back, and set off for Drifters’ Hell.
*
Jeklor first visited the wide platform where they had met Li Ho, taking care to avoid the dark stain soaked into the wood. He had made good time and it was still early morning – the benches outside were mostly empty. Upon entering the tavern, a one-eyed bear of a man eagerly called him over, his gap-toothed grin inviting Jeklor to try one of his ales. Jeklor would’ve liked one, but he politely declined; he had no coin ... yet.
Jeklor unshouldered the bundle of clothes, and put on his best smile. A few moments later, he had convinced the tavern owner that should he allow Jeklor to sell his wares on the platform, it would serve to draw in more customers for his tavern. Jeklor also presented the owner with a free cloak and a pair of sandals, and after a long spell of arguing and making up facts, he convinced the large man to swap his boots for the sandals, and to take regular strolls outside so that his customers could admire his new footwear.
“You sure this will cure my limpy knee,” the man said as he pulled off his boots and slipped his feet into the straw sandals, splaying his toes. “Quite airy ...” he muttered, and took a few experimental steps.
“Not in one day,” said Jeklor quickly. “But regular wear will improve blood circulation, and the added freshness will please your wife. Before you know it, your knee will improve ... with time.”
“Blood’s what thing now?” he asked suspiciously.
“Uh ... your feet will grow stronger, “Jeklor said smoothly.
“You don’t say ...”
But, as Jeklor left the tavern, the owner looked rather pleased with his new cloak tied to his shoulders and he had a small spring in his step. Jeklor didn’t completely spin tall tales, however. He had also been surprised by the softness, and even more than that, the durability of the straw sandals ... although he weren’t too sure about its restorative properties.
With a broad smile, Jeklor set up stall close to the walkway leading up to the platform. He neatly laid out his (and Dragon’s) wares before him, waving and calling out to the villagers to come and try out ‘Dragon East Apparel’.
The morning saw few customers, most of them frowning at the straw sandals, but by the afternoon the benches were filled with patrons, and the one-eyed owner strolled between his customers, flaunting sandals and cloak, loudly exclaiming that his knee felt better.
Wishful thinking or not, interest in Jeklor’s wares suddenly increased, and coin started changing hands. Jeklor had planned to move to a different platform later, but business was so good that he stayed put. Dragon’s weaving was of good quality; nearly as good as the outfit that Li Ho had given Jeklor, and with the coming winter looming around the corner the cloaks sold especially well. The sandals, however, was having a slow start, but Jeklor didn’t mind. He had expected it, and he counted on word-of-mouth from the new owners to promote it.
Come late afternoon, Jeklor had sold most of the wares, and the coin-pouch hanging by his side had an inspiring weight to it. Customers had dried up, and he decided to call it a day. Overall, the endeavour had gone much better than he had initially bargained for, and he was pleased.
As Jeklor started gathering the remaining items, two men approached him and he greeted them with a welcoming smile. “Unfortunately, I am out of cloaks for the moment, but will sure be bringing new ones with the next time I’m here,” said Jeklor apologetically. “I do however have these quality tunics, which I might add is one of its sort, and guaranteed to dampen the winter cold, and these healing sand
als from the east. You have never known more comfortable footwear!”
The two men, however, did not look interested in buying ... at all. They eyed Jeklor with cold stares and one of them said, “Haven’t seen your face before – you new?”
“I am,” said Jeklor, quickly tying the remaining items together and lifting it onto his back. “Just visiting for the day.”
“That ’splains it,” said one of the men, and spat a lumpy wad of phlegm by Jeklor’s foot. “You don’t put up shop without pay’en pritecson’ coin. ’Tis right, eh Darse?”
“Dangerous times, this,” said Darse, and snickered, “init so, Rael?”
Rael nodded and said innocently, “Better pay up ’fore somethin’ happens ... dangerous place it is – Drifters’ Hell.”
“Oh,” said Jeklor, looking around him quickly, but the two men blocked the only walkway. “And who might your benevolent employer be?”
“Say what?” Another projectile shot from between Rael’s lips, landing next to Jeklor’s other foot.
“Who do you work for?” asked Jeklor, ignoring the flying phlegm.
“That’d be Lord Agron.”
“A noble in Drifters’ Hell?”
“Nah, not noble,” said Darse, “but Lord of the area.”
Jeklor appeared to be in awe at the fact, and he kept his voice solemn. “And does Lord Agron absolutely demand that I contribute to his funds?”
“You what now?”
“Must I pay?”
“No,” said Darse, shaking his head slowly. “Lord Agron says ‘’Tis your choice.’ But if something happens ...”
“... don’t blame Lord Agron,” said Rael. “Y’er own fault not pay’en fo’ pritecson’.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, gentleman,” said Jeklor and quickly slipped between the two men and down the walkway. “Have a pleasant day ... ye’ cows’ arses,” he muttered under his breath.
Pouch clinking with coin soon drove away thoughts of two certain idiots and Jeklor broke into song as he walked, playing with ideas to expand ‘Dragon East Apparel’.
*
A cool breeze rustled the orange leaves, and bars of golden light striped the narrow trail as late autumn sun shined through the treetops. Jeklor’s throat was dry from his song, and he regretted not buying ale. But thoughts of showing Dragon the coin they had made pushed his thirst away, and his long legs ate up the distance, sandals (soon to be widely sought after, he chuckled) clapping on the hard soil ...
And then a branch spun through the air, whistling by his head. Jeklor cursed under his breath. He had hoped that they would leave him alone until he next sold Dragon’s wares, but no such luck.
“Arse and Rael, I presume,” Jeklor said and turned around.
“That’s DARSE,” bellowed Darse and then quickly said, “But we don’t know anyone by that name, init Rael?”
Both men had scarves wrapped around their heads, hiding their faces. Jeklor was glad to see that neither carried blades, but each had a branch in their hands. Jeklor dropped the remaining clothes and sandals next to the trail and picked up a loose branch, twirling it in his hand.
“I’m tired and thirsty, so if you want a beating, better not hesitate – Arse.”
Darse charged Jeklor, the piece of wood held high over his head. He shouted at the top of his lungs and swung the branch downward. Jeklor nimbly leapt to the side and kicked out, catching Darse on the side of the knee. He tumbled to the ground, his face ploughing into the trail.
Jeklor chuckled. He wasn’t a thief (although a failed one, he reminded himself) for nothing. Picking pockets since childhood had honed his reflexes.
“Bastard!” yelled Rael and threw his branch. Jeklor ducked and Rael grinned in triumph, sprinting toward the bent-over man. Jeklor dived to the side, rolled on his shoulder and swung his branch. It whacked Rael on the back as he sprinted by Jeklor and he overbalanced, hitting the trail with a groan and a thud.
“Enough yet, fellows?” said Jeklor in a friendly tone, and did a little dance.
Darse and Rael picked themselves up, their scarves lying forgotten in the dirt, murder on their faces. Darse wiped blood from his face, his nose swollen. He and Rael fanned out, their arms outstretched, hands clenching and unclenching eagerly.
“From both sides this time,” said Jeklor and grinned. “I’m impressed.”
“You just laugh it up,” growled Darse. “Laugh it up, funny man.”
“Oh, I intend too,” smiled Jeklor and took a light step backward as they charged him from the flanks. At the last moment, they suddenly turned and reached for Jeklor.
“Almost!” laughed Jeklor as he jumped backward, but his foot hooked onto a tree root and Jeklor stumbled. He desperately tried regaining his balance, and just as he came upright, a branch slammed into his head.
Lights exploded in front of him and Jeklor fell to his knees.
“Got him!” one of them yelled, but he had no idea who it was. Jeklor tried covering his head as blows rained down on him. A branch caught him below the ear and it suddenly went dark.
“Not so funny now, eh?” spat Darse and kicked Jeklor in the side for good measure, but Jeklor did not move.
Darse grabbed the coin pouch from Jeklor’s side, weighing it in his hand. His eyes grew wide.
“Good haul?” said Rael.
Darse grinned broadly. He and Rael split halve the coins between them, leaving the remaining coins for Lord Agron. “Agron wouldn’t know anyway,” said Darse as he pocketed his share. “Between us, init Rael?”
“Sure is, Darse,” said Rael, standing over the clothes and sandals Jeklor had dropped next to the trail, seemingly deep in thought. Then he opened his breeches and leaned back, swaying from side to side, making sure he covered maximum ground.
Darse roared with laughter.
Chapter 15
Roland sat cross-legged on the wooden deck, his back polearm straight, the zhutou rested on his thighs. His eyes were closed, his hands relaxing on his knees.
He could have been sleeping, but Roland was acutely aware of everything around him. He breathed deeply, what Li Ho had taught him during the day slowly turning over in his mind. He was using a technique that Li Ho had suggested as a way to help combat his weakness of over thinking. In battle, the body had to react before the mind – it had to be instinctive – but Roland had the tendency to plan out each move in advance, and this technique was used to bury Li Ho’s teachings into his subconscious.
Roland held his breath and opened his eyes to small slits as he sensed a presence entering the clearing in front of the cabin. Then his eyes shot open wide and he jumped to his feet. Jeklor stumbled toward him, blood streaming down his face.
Roland rushed over and grabbed him by the arm, helping him to the cabin. “What happened?” he asked, his eyes scanning Jeklor quickly, seeking wounds. There was a tear in Jeklor’s cheek, and he was clutching his side, but he saw nothing else.
Jeklor’s jaw clenched and his lips pulled so thin that they nearly disappeared. At first, Roland thought it was pain, but then he realised that Jeklor was angry. Not just angry, he was livid. It was the first time that Roland had seen the jaunty man truly angry, and he realised that something serious must have happened.
“They pissed on it,” spat Jeklor, his shoulders shaking. “They pissed on Dragon’s work!”
Roland did not understand but said nothing and helped Jeklor into the cabin. He first wanted to stitch the tear in Jeklor’s cheek. He also thought that Jeklor’s ribs were cracked or broken from the way he was holding his side.
He led Jeklor to the eating area, where Li Ho, Andros and Dragon sat cross-legged around a low table; Li Ho did not believe in chairs around his table.
Andros and Dragon jumped to their feet, and Roland saw a moment of concern flickering across Li Ho’s face. Andros immediately started firing off questions, and Dragon dashed over, patting Jeklor’s arm.
“Wait,” said Roland and held up his hand. “I first need to stit
ch his cheek.”
Li Ho left the room unseen, and returned moments later with a curved needle and thread. Roland nodded his appreciation and then said, “Dragon, I need a length of cloth to tie Jeklor’s ribs.” Dragon knocked the table the length of the room as he ran for the item.
His cheek stitched, Jeklor told the men what had happened while Roland tied his ribs (Roland did not think them broken). Jeklor hung his head in shame as he retold the part of him waking up and finding the remaining wares. “ ... I will go back to the village tomorrow and find out where I can find this Agron and get the coin back,” said Jeklor. “I’m sorry, Dragon.”
Dragon waved both his hands, shaking his head frantically. The message was clear; Jeklor had no need apologising for anything.
“No need go tomorrow,” Li Ho said for the first time. “I know where find him.”
“Where?” growled Jeklor.
“Take path to village. Where path fork, go opposite side. Path goes through woods and then down in valley. Agron build camp in valley – good view over camp from top of path – but not for you, Jeklor. Must rest first,” said Li Ho, waving his finger, and then he looked at Roland. “What you do?”
“I will go tonight,” said Roland, sounding calm, but the thin white scar above his left eye bank showed purple, belying his voice.
“Sorry, Li Ho, but I, too,” said Jeklor, groaning as he stood upright. “I can’t leave this to Roland. I’ll be shamed for the rest of my life.”
Dragon thumbed his chest with his fist, and then pointed at Roland.
“You go, too?” said Li Ho.
Dragon nodded vehemently.
“And I,” said Andros, raising himself.
A small smile turned Li Ho’s lips. “Follow,” he said, and led them to the back of his cabin. He slid his sword between the wooden planks and pushed the wall back, revealing the hidden room dug into the rocky hill. It was the first time showing Andros, Dragon and Jeklor the room, and their awed expressions said everything there was to say about the weapons.