Demon Hunters (Chi Warriors Book 2)

by Ino Lee

  “This doesn’t look like a prison,” he said.

  “They are below,” Renshu said. “We must find a new way.” He pointed. “There.”

  An enclosed structure with a door was centered near the back wall. Wong nodded, thinking it made sense for the prison staircase to be separated from the rest of the floors.

  They moved cautiously across the training course to get there, conscious of movement in the room. Heavy, lumbering footsteps could be felt nearby, but fortunately there were many obstacles in the way. They quietly reached the room and opened the door, descending the steps to an increasingly darker lower level. Renshu could hardly see except for the flicker of lantern light trickling through an unseen doorway.

  Metal clanged and shadow flashed. A ninja stepped into view and was startled—though its face was hidden behind a mask, it could not conceal the emotion from its blood red eyes and patch of pale white flesh—surprise, then dread at the return of a golden Houzon. It did not have long to fear as Wong’s arm had already snapped forward, sharp metal piercing its brain.

  “It begins,” Wong said.

  He leapt the length of the staircase to pounce on anything that might be lurking behind and discovered another ninja. His second knife became immediately airborne, but this ninja was ready for him, dodging and thrusting a naginata at his face. Wong shifted and grabbed the shaft of the spear near the blade. They struggled for control, but Wong hung on with a single hand and excitedly mocked with monkey laughter. The thrill of battle ignited something within him, something not entirely his own.

  Renshu moved in and cracked the demon across the face, shooting Wong a disapproving glare at his lack of seriousness.

  “Houzon would not do that.”

  He grabbed the fallen naginata.

  Dank air permeated a dimly lit enclosure, composed of stone walls with a large metal security door. The door was currently unbarred, so they passed through to a corridor. One direction led to an open hall, while the other ended in another metal door—this one barred. The magaus felt close by. They chose the closed end, unlocked the barrier, and went in.

  The magau prison smelled of animals. Wong found a lantern near the entry and lit it, moving in to explore. Cells were dug into stone walls on two sides, some large enough to fit multiple occupants, others made for one. Wong peered between the bars of a metal gate and startled its occupants.

  “Houzon,” they said in fear.

  Renshu opened the gate. “Houzon is with me.”

  The magaus were shocked with joy and relief, but Renshu hushed them to temper their excitement. He handed the naginata to the strongest prisoner and assigned watch on the front door.

  Renshu and Wong opened the rest of the gates, one by one, until they reached a final solitary unit smaller than the others. The door swung open to emptiness. Finally, a pair of large upside down eyes blinked at them. Toutoumo dropped from the ceiling and revealed a small magau.

  Renshu smiled. “This is Toutoumo.”

  Houzon examined him without comment. Toutoumo looked curiously at the dreaded unan mask attached to the face of a human and shrugged.

  “What’s the plan for escape, King?”

  “Walk outside, cross the bridge, then back to Tangled Root Forest . . . except you. You will help us burn the Temple of Masks.”

  Toutoumo shrugged again. “Sounds good, King. What about the zhuks?”

  “What zhuk?”

  “Here. Two zhuks.”

  “Ah—the large steps.”

  “I’ll take care of them,” Wong said. “You escape with the prisoners.”

  Toutoumo stared at him skeptically. “Who’s this guy?”

  “He thinks he’s Houzon.”

  Wong laughed. “Your true king.”

  He slid his hand into the Iron Fist and flared the shuriken shield blades.

  “Zhuk kwais, huh? Haven’t fought one of them in a while.”

  He handed Toutoumo a battle knife. “For you if you’re as good as Renshu says.” He unsheathed his red sword. “Now for the fun.”

  The rest of the magaus looked at him eagerly. Renshu shot him a look and they realized a flaw in their plan—they did not have a way to arm everyone. Wong took out the Dragon Arm and examined it, then tossed it over to Renshu.

  Renshu was about to pass it to another when Wong stopped him.

  “No—that stays with you.”

  “I like my—”

  “It’s better. It’s dear to me.”

  Renshu played with the weight in his hands, then passed on his stave and a knife instead.

  “You have more knives?” Toutoumo said.

  “No more.”

  “I have shuriken, but they’re better with me,” Wong said. “We can scavenge weapons off the dead ninjas in the staircase.”

  “Guards around the corner. More weapons.”

  “How many?”

  “Four, five.”

  Renshu shook his head disapprovingly. Wong pondered it. Even with two dead, it was better to stay covert. Any cry of warning was too dangerous. With only one exit and multiple security doors, it would be too easy for the ninjas to lock them in.

  “We’ll let the guards be, but someone grab the bar to the door.”

  “Poor weapon. Too heavy,” Renshu said.

  “Not a weapon.”

  They creaked open the front door and peaked down the hallway. Nothing stirred. Silently, Wong and Renshu crept into the staircase with eleven liberated conspirators. They scavenged a sword, both of Wong’s throwing knives, and two sai from the dead ninjas, leaving nine of the captives meekly armed. Renshu wished they had grabbed another naginata or bo staff from the upper floor—weapons more natural to magaus—knowing they would have to fight their way out.

  Wong closed the metal door and secured it with the bar from the prison door, locking in the guards. He moved through the crowded room to the top of the staircase.

  He whispered. “Take out the guards stationed at the main doors. I will keep the zhuks busy.”

  “Not alone,” Renshu said. “Zhuk kwais versus the monkey kings.” He excitedly signaled to Toutoumo and the magaus carrying the naginata and Zhigau stave. “You open the gates.”

  Wong nodded and spoke to the others. “There are wood-planked walkways in the obstacle course. Cut down two if you can. Use them as siege bridges for the main doors at the top of the security platform.”

  He turned to Renshu. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Let’s hope Jaguan and Shiki are too.”

  They rushed into the obstacle course, making straight for the main doors. The troop of magaus was hard to miss and a cry from a ninja went up. From either direction rumbled footsteps.

  “Stick to the plan,” Wong yelled.

  He jumped onto a log and took the high ground, leaping across vertical columns and platforms. A ninja blew a horn, but Wong fired a throwing spike across the field, puncturing the instrument and rendering it useless. The sound fizzled, but the short burst was probably still enough to draw attention from the upper floors.

  A seven-foot tall zhuk slashed at his feet with a giant swordaxe; Wong thought the beast was lean for a zhuk, though being more nimble could work in its favor, considering the challenging terrain. He flipped to a lower platform and drew the creature away, winding through the maze of obstacles. The field of battle was exciting, and a part of him relished the opportunity to test it out. He caught a rope and swung around, dodging an angry hack and using the rope’s leverage to walk sideways on a wall. The zhuk chased and rammed the wallboards with its horn. Wong moved higher, propelled off one pole and then another, flipping back toward the zhuk from above. He pummeled the beast with his Iron Fist, then jump-kicked to knock the creature on its back.

  He turned toward the main action and saw the magaus preparing to raid the main
doors. They had already cut down a wooden walkway to use as a bridge to the security platform and were working on a second, giving them three points of attack in addition to the solitary staircase already in place. Toutoumo was somehow clinging to the wall behind the defense, inching toward a surprise attack, while Baifu secretly hung in front.

  In the far staircase, a ninja appeared. Behind him, the zhuk scrambled to its feet as more ninjas poured in from the opposite staircase. He saw the danger, scrambled up a pole, and barked out a warning.

  “Ninjas! Ninjas in the staircase!”

  Shuriken chased him from his perch and caused him to flip to another pole. He held up his sword horizontally and howled with excitement.

  “Liberation of the monkeys!”

  Renshu patiently perched on a pole. The zhuk slapped at him with its swordaxe, but he dodged and took seat on an adjacent log. Another slash yielded a similar outcome. This beast was larger than the other, with curlier horns and a lighter shade of fur—slower but stronger.

  It growled at its wily target with sharp teeth, then severed the midsection of the poles with a single stroke. Renshu dropped to the floor, astonished at the beast’s power. The zhuk slashed again and he braced the Dragon Arm with both feet and hands to block, which ricocheted him across the field. He rolled and spun back to his feet, the metal staff still vibrating, relieved that he was not holding Zhigau wood.

  He scampered underneath cover to escape the zhuk, as it barreled in. It kicked over a platform and raked the ground, but Renshu was nowhere to be seen, lost in the tangle of barriers.

  Renshu surprised it with a flurry of strikes, smacking it across the head, on the leg, and on the wrist, causing the beast to lose its swordaxe. It countered by pounding the ground with its fist as Renshu jumped away, still dangerous with bare hands. The monkey king took up a new position and twirled the Dragon Arm, then heard Houzon howling a warning at approaching ninjas.

  Houzon targeted the zhuk with a satchel of mamu powder, raided the day before from the magaus’ supplies, and hit the beast squarely in the snout. It inhaled a chunk of dust and wheezed, shaking its head as it fell to its knees.

  A swarm of ninja stars closed in. He ducked low and curled into a tight ball, then flared the blades on his arm shield to extend its cover. Tiny pings of metal rang on his gauntlet, like raindrops on the rafters during a quick summer storm. Out flared his crystal blade with a gleeful monkey cry, slicing demons within reach.

  The dark ninjas circled around, spreading out at multiple heights and levels. The obstacle course was theirs; they were the true masters of the terrain.

  Houzon was overjoyed. This was his opportunity to let loose and test the limits of his skill. Up the highest pole he climbed, surveying the danger and plotting his attack. He leapt to a platform and confronted a ninja, striking swords, then shifted his weight to knock it asunder.

  More ninja stars came. He dropped off the platform and caught it by a metal glove as shrapnel sprayed across the board, then swung to a lower walkway. He hacked, blocked, and stabbed a ninja through the heart, flipping to the ground to deliver more destruction.

  Behind, more ninjas targeted him from a roped platform, so he whipped his gauntlet hand back and flared his blades, releasing the shuriken shield. It cut through the air and the support ropes, collapsing the bridge and causing the dark ninjas to tumble.

  The obstacle course felt like child’s play, designed solely for his entertainment. While he was always skillful in the trees, the mask injected his body with an extra burst of agility. It was infectious and grew as he sprang through the field and ninjas died around him, making him wonder if that was how lo-shur felt when possessing magau.

  The thought sobered him and he came to his senses. There was a battle at hand. He grabbed a spear from a fallen foe, retrieved his shield, and redirected to the security platform, where a fierce struggle for control was taking place. Two siege bridges were already up with magaus on the platform, but dark ninja reinforcements were pressuring the poorly armed magaus on the ground.

  He threw a spear to a magau and bounded up a bridge. Getting through the gates was the priority. A new spear thrust at him, but he flipped over it and into the fray, slashing and sending metal astray with his shield. The quarters were tight and the battle brief with victory coming as Wong and Toutoumo faced each other. Another horn blast signaled urgency.

  Wong stood on the security wall and called in the magaus. Most were near the platform, but a handful had taken to the obstacle course, engaged with ninjas. To the left, he saw the monkey king, ablaze with chi and fully extended midair, ready to deliver a death blow with a morphed Dragon Arm. It was in that moment that Wong realized Renshu was more than he seemed.

  Renshu whipped the Dragon Arm in one direction, then another, deflecting ninja swords with ease. He whirled the weapon behind his back, caught an enemy’s chin on his motion through to the front, and reversed to hammer the top of another’s skull.

  The course beckoned and he moved to a high column, taking stock of his surroundings. The zhuk found its swordaxe below and would return, though his skill with his own weapon was coming into its own. The Dragon Arm moved beautifully. He had considered metal staffs before and preferred Zhigau wood due to its lightness and freedom in the treetops, but this weapon was both heavy and light at the same time. There was power in it and he began to understand why it was so precious to Wong. If only it was hooked for leverage like his Zhigau stave.

  Ninjas poured in from the staircase and threatened to collapse their assault on the main doors. Renshu jumped into the thickest part of traffic to stall them. The flurry of activity was almost too much to keep up with and forced him into the field of columns. He hopped up a log, sparred with a dark ninja and swept its feet with his tail, then jumped to another column and flipped to avoid the zhuk’s swordaxe. While fighting in the air was preferable, too many ninjas were passing through to the fight for the main doors.

  He slammed a ninja below and furiously attacked everything in his path. He thrust, parried, hacked, and leapt onto the side of the wall for leverage on an overhead slash. The action was fast and overwhelming. The swordaxe chopped down on him, but he used his wiry strength to leap and twist, slamming the blade with a well-placed hit to deflect the blow into a ninja.

  His backside stung from a cutting star, just above the leg, distracting him long enough for the zhuk to kick out with its hoofed leg and throttle him. Searing pain spread from his abdomen as multiple demons converged. One brief moment of weakness and he was done for—such was the nature of storming the prison. If he went down, the zhuk would be free to attack the platform, their escape would fail, and his people would be dragged back down to the prison, where they would be tortured and beaten for their insubordination, their meat tenderized for the demons’ ravenous appetite. They would no longer be used for training. There would be no chance for escape. They would be of no further use, except to be punished and eaten.

  His anger flared and chi fire enveloped him with a dark and purple haze of flame. He screamed at the top of his lungs, a wild and brute force, equivalent to a rampaging troop of magaus. He sidestepped a ninja, jumped on another’s head to propel atop a column, and leapt at the zhuk. The runes on the Dragon Arm glowed a ruby red and the end of one side morphed into a mace-like head.

  He looked at hammer-end of the Dragon Arm in awe, unsure of what just happened as the great zhuk collapsed in a heap. The room felt silent when Wong’s call pulled him from his trance. The front doors opened and he saw the sun . . . beautiful warm light.

  25

  “BRING UP THE siege bridges!” Wong yelled.

  He dropped below to fend off dark ninjas and direct the magaus.

  “Pull them up!” he commanded. “Take them with you. Get outside.”

  The magaus looked confused, but Renshu urged them on. “Do as he says.”

  More horns blew.


  “What’s the bridge for? Not long enough for moat.”

  “Not for moat.”

  When the bridges were hauled up, they backed up the staircase and fended off ninjas. A crowd formed at the entry, but was restricted by the narrow path. At the top of the platform, a siege bridge lay flat with another already outside the door.

  Wong picked up the front of the nearest bridge and dragged it overhead. He ran forward, a few magaus joining him underneath.

  He motioned at the other bridge. “Get under! The ninjas won’t follow into the sunlight.”

  “We don’t need shade like ninjas,” Toutoumo said.

  “Do it. It’s not for the sun.”

  They did as told and marched into the sunlight.

  “What’s it for then?”

  “The arrows.”

  A thud hit the platform. Several more arrows wedged into the ground around them. While the ninjas would not follow them into the sun, they could fire at them from the terraces. Fortunately, the same blinding sunlight that prevented the ninjas from pursuing also made their aim poor—things that would change in the more shaded paths ahead.

  The brigade ran awkwardly toward the middle of the fattest road on the left and away from the buildings as much as possible. They were now nine in total, having lost four to the battle.

  Toutoumo, who was too short to hold their makeshift shields overhead, noticed their clumsy gait and started chanting.

  “Left, right, left, right, one, two, one, two . . .”

  Their steps began to synchronize and he quickened the pace. A new wave of arrows came from the next building.

  “Together!” Toutoumo shouted. “Move together.”