Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 01 - Wait
Chapter 02 - Attack
Chapter 03 - Egg
Chapter 04 - Darkness
Chapter 05 - Lost
Chapter 06 - Birth
Chapter 07 - Life
Chapter 08 - Wind
Chapter 09 - Friends
Chapter 10 - Treetops
Chapter 11 - Food
Chapter 12 - Sacrifice
Chapter 13 - Hope
Chapter 14 - Rescue
Chapter 15 - Infiltration
Chapter 16 - Chaos
Chapter 17 - Escape
Chapter 18 - Aftermath
About the Author
Windcatcher
Book I of the Stone War Chronicles
A.J. Norfield
Copyright © 2015 A.J. Norfield
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover art © 2015 A.J. Norfield
Edited by Helen Burroughs
ISBN: 978-90-824945-2-5 (kindle)
ISBN: 978-90-824945-0-1 (epub)
ISBN: 978-90-824945-1-8 (sc)
For my two greatest—and most wonderful—distractions in the world and she who takes care of them.
Prologue
The morning felt brisk. Lai’Ping felt the cold in his joints; but, then again, he always had trouble feeling warm nowadays. His joints were old, held together by old muscles. His head, cleanly shaved, felt the soft morning wind. His only facial hair was a long beard—pure, white, and flaxen. Long ago, he had accepted his life now moved at a much slower pace than most of the younger men in the monastery.
Looking out into the garden from his seat of meditation, he slowly drew in his breath. The garden had a certain magical feel to it this in the day. The sun’s first light just crept over the garden wall. Small drops of last night’s rain sparkled in the light, as they lingered on the bamboo leaves at the far side of the courtyard.
Behind the wall, the white tops of the impressive mountain range bathed in the sun’s warm rays that slid further and further down the mountain slopes. But the snow would not melt this early in spring. The forest’s inhabitants on the mountain-side would soon wake up, birds already sang their songs to greet the morning, while all kinds of scurrying animals began their busy days.
The monastery had low, white walls on this side. On top of the walls, a small, black roof mirrored the other roofing of the monastery. Instead of running straight, they all curled upward at the end. Most were decorated with small swirls and globes, which even Lai’Ping—at times—found too much. In his long life, he had learned to keep things simple, without too much distraction. It left the focus on the things in life that were more important…like family. He felt his mind wander, thinking about how his only granddaughter was doing. The faintest of smiles was seen, before he gently pushed the thought out and emptied his head again, like the masters before him had so often instructed…of course, now he was the master.
Never too old to learn.
Being located on the top of a high mountain slope, the back side of the monastery had no need for high walls as the ground behind those walls disappeared in a straight drop down about half the length of the mountain itself. Because of this, the monastery had been designed in such a way that the back courtyards and gardens were almost one with the panoramic view of the high mountain ranges.
The largest part of the central building consisted of the great hall, in which the monks would gather to meditate. Around it, there were dozens of little corridors leading to smaller rooms. Some were used for more secluded meditation sessions, others were the private living quarters of monks. However, most lived in the main resident buildings on the far south side of the monastery’s main courtyard. Wooden statues and images of grand dragons decorated the walls and pillars of the meditation area. Often just the head or the talon of these magnificent creatures was displayed; yet, at other times, the entire dragon curled around a pillar, carved in full detail with scales, legs and wings.
It seemed exaggerated to Lai’Ping, but it was their connection to the past. It was said these mythical creatures once shared their wisdom with the monks. He often meditated on the question of what had happened to make them disappear over two centuries ago. Enlightenment had unfortunately never been provided, as the question still remained unanswered after all these years.
Behind the great hall were buildings where only the inner circle of grand monks were allowed to venture. Called the Inner Sanctum, it housed the Empire’s most sacred item—the relic which the monastery had the honor of protecting for the past centuries.
A thick, wooden, double door blocked the entrance to this holy place. Each door was so large and heavy it required four people to open it when one needed to pass through it. The gateway displayed a magnificent carving of two dragons that mirrored each other. Their front talons and noses touched where the doors met. Despite the majestic feel of the carvings, Lai’Ping always thought the dragons seemed to be joined together in an awkward human-like courtship dance. Behind those doors was the long road of scales—a hallway with a floor completely covered in the scales of dragons of old, one for each dragon said to have helped make the monastery possible. The road of scales had guards stationed in its hallways at all times.
The main courtyard at the entrance of the monastery could easily hold a thousand monks at once. It often did, as the monks all trained in the arts of the dragon’s claw style of fighting. In comparison to the low walls surrounding Lai’Ping’s private meditation garden, this main courtyard was surrounded by massive walls, each many times taller than a man. These giant walls held the main gate to the monastery, whose height rivaled the size of the walls. Special mechanisms with ropes and multiple gears made it possible to open such massive doors, as no man would have the power to open them by hand.
Lai’Ping grabbed his leg to unfold himself, and slid to the side of his meditation cushion. It had been a long time since he actively participated in the morning exercises. Cautiously, he stood up, making sure his legs would not give way under him. He vaguely heard the shouts and sounds of the monks training in the main courtyard. He shuffled slowly toward his private quarters, smiling softly at the joy that at least his hearing was not failing him yet.
Approaching the steps to his own accommodations in the monastery, he noticed one of the senior monks respectfully waiting for him. The senior monk sat quietly on his knees next to the thin sliding wall-panel that led into Lai’Ping’s high monk quarters.
Ah, To’Pal, he’ll make a fine grand monk of the inner circle one day.
Lai’Ping carefully moved up the steps toward the wooden walkway where the senior monk was seated. As the high monk reached the walkway, the senior monk bowed deeply to show his respect, and then slowly rose to his feet.
“To’Pal, how are you this morning?”
“I’m fine, Master Wén. There will be much to do today,” said the senior monk, as he produced a small scroll out of his sleeve. “Preparations for the royal visit are n
ow fully underway.”
The royal visit normally came paired with thousands of common people traveling to the monastery to attend the ceremonial festivities. People brought rice and dried fruit from the year’s harvests as small offerings, prayed for a plentiful harvest season the next year and shared their abundance with dead relatives and friends to honor them. The monastery had to be in perfect shape before the Emperor arrived and walked through those large, main gates.
Every year the Emperor, accompanied by his wife, two sons and daughter, attended the sacred ceremony led by Lai’Ping. Thankfully, the top position of high monk was supported by the inner circle of grand monks, sixty-four in total. During the private ceremony, the Emperor prayed in the Inner Sanctum. He asked the sacred item stored there for its blessing and for its continued protection of the Tiankong Empire, like it had done for almost two hundred years now.
The Emperor’s visit was a little less than a month away now, just before the expected first snow. Lai’Ping looked at the small scroll in his hands, no doubt filled with the challenges of today which needed to be solved. But, as his fingers fiddled to open it, a loud crash and a rumble shook throughout the monastery.
Both men looked up in the direction of the main courtyard. Smoke was coming from behind the roof of his private chambers. Judging from the distance, it seemed to be near the main gate.
Shouts filled the air, and Lai’Ping heard people running on the wooden boardwalks around the buildings toward the main courtyard. He looked at the senior monk, silently hoping it was not a very bad accident, when he clearly heard heavy hoof-beats, nervous neighing horses and shouting war cries coming from the other side of the building. This was no accident…they were under attack!
“The Sanctum!”
Moving as fast as his old legs could carry him, Lai’Ping moved through multiple hallways, headed for the main hall. He had to get to the Inner Sanctum as quickly as possible. Smoke filled the small corridors. The walls were built of a thin, papery material which meant any fire would spread very swiftly. Lai’Ping kept his sleeve to his mouth and took a left turn with the senior monk hot on his heels. Behind him a heavy crash drew his attention. He saw one of the younger monks fly through a wall-panel. A massive black horse followed directly in his wake, driven by a black armored figure holding a thick spear. It happened in the blink of an eye; the horse crashed at full speed through the walls, like they were nothing but air.
As they continued on their way, they neared the end of the corridor which led to the main hall. Both men emerged close to the sanctuary doors. Lai’Ping heard more shouts coming from the main courtyard. Monks ran past with buckets of water, while others carried bladed staffs—the foundation of many of the dragon’s claw fighting techniques.
Lai’Ping and To’Pal, both heavily panting, exited the corridor bringing the main hall into full view. The smoke was less dense here, mainly because of the high ceiling. What the clear air revealed was a massacre and devastation. Dozens of monks lay dead, spread across the main hall. Some were pinned against the wall pierced by spears, while others just lay face down—or with heads twisted—on the floor in puddles of blood. The illustrations on the walls had smeared blood all over them, and a number of dragon statues were overturned, their pieces scattered across the ground.
Lai’Ping slowly walked around one of the main support pillars to get to the sanctum doors. As he did, a tall soldier in black armor came into view. The soldier stood in front of the sanctum doors, looking at them in deep thought.
These soldiers were clearly not from the Empire, their faces were too long and their eyes were too round. Their skin was so pale, it looked like they had never seen sun in this lifetime. So Lai’Ping spoke in the only foreign language that he knew, that of the mid-kingdom laying to the east.
“What is the meaning of this?”
The soldier slowly turned toward him and To’Pal and regarded them in silence. Lai’Ping met the soldier’s eyes as they calmly looked at him. The outsider started moving toward them.
“What are you doing here? Outsiders are not allowed to enter the Empire and these sacred grounds. You must leave at once!” said Lai’Ping sternly…but the man in front of them acted as if he heard nothing.
The soldier’s eyes remained locked on the high monk as he approached them at a slow pace. The man’s armor looked to be mostly leather with some metal parts which had both been colored black. A cross of four diamond-shaped icons were displayed on his left chest piece. The cape that hung from his shoulders slowly waved in the air as he walked toward them.
“Please step back, Master Wén,” said To’Pal, politely.
Lai’Ping noticed the senior monk move sideways in order to step in front of, and to shield him from, this unknown threat. He held up his hand to stop the senior monk from moving.
“No, the monastery is my responsibility…”
Lai’Ping had no intention of letting anyone else speak for him. The monks were under his protection, even the more experienced senior monks. He tried to get a feel for the soldier moving toward them; although many lay dead in the main hall, Lai’Ping did not feel any murderous intent coming from this particular individual.
The soldier, now only a few feet away, still had not uttered a word. Lai’Ping tried one more time.
“Why have you come here?”
The unknown soldier stopped a step short of them.
“My good sir! Why…we’ve come for your most sacred treasure,” said the grinning man.
It was not the completely unnerving friendliness of the soldier’s tone that surprised Lai’Ping and the senior monk behind him, but the fact that the words were spoken to them in their own local language.
Lai’Ping looked into the cold, blue eyes of the soldier, slightly confused by hearing words spoken in his mother tongue with a thick foreign accent—a language no foreigner should have been able to learn, as teaching Tiankonese to outsiders was forbidden. An unexpected, sharp pain in his belly made him look down; he saw the heft of a knife sticking out of his side. He had not even seen the soldier move.
When did he take a knife in his hand?
He looked at his fingers, colored red with his blood. The senior monk jumped forward and lunged at the soldier’s throat with a high-speed thrust.
Lai’Ping knew the movement well, it was one of the more dangerous dragon’s claw techniques, designed to hit and grab an enemy’s throat and tear out the larynx with one, quick motion. But the outsider reacted with lightning speed. He deflected the monk’s attack to the side. Immediately, the soldier’s arm came back in full swing. An armored backhand crashed into To’Pal’s temple. The impact had such force that the monk slammed sideways against the pillar. Lai’Ping knew the monk would not get up anymore…the position of his head clearly showed his broken neck.
Turning around, the soldier pulled out the knife and walked back to the sanctum doors. Lai’Ping felt the strength drain from his legs. Slumping to the ground, he held one hand on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He felt his warm blood seeping through his robe. His other hand tried desperately to support his body and to prevent it from collapsing onto the floor.
The sacred relic…it must be secured! The doors will delay them. It should be enough time for them to get away. They have to get away…the safety of the Empire relies on it!
Lai’Ping felt colder than he had ever felt before. No longer having the strength to support his body, he slowly lay down on the floor against his own will. His gaze stared at the sanctum doors. He implored them to stay closed.
Suddenly, the soldier gave a shrill whistle toward the main courtyard.
As he grew colder, Lai’Ping felt his body get heavier. He noticed his heart rate slowed down in his throat. His vision blurred, but he refused to let the Inner Sanctum doors out of his sight. He heard his heartbeat grow louder. The sound was so heavy, he swore he felt the floor vibrate with each thump. Every beat grew louder and made the ground shake harder.
As the last light
faded from his vision, Lai’Ping’s eyes spread wide from what they saw. Two shadows, twice the size of a man, stomped past him toward the sanctum doors. Their heavy steps shook the floor in unison with his own heartbeats. His vision faded. The image of the outsider, pointing toward the heavy sanctum doors, and those colossal shadows, following the command, disappeared into darkness.
What kind of inhuman abominations are those things…?
Lai’Ping’s bones felt so very heavy and his muscles felt so very tired. The image of a girl’s face floated into his mind. The warmth of love flowed through his cold body.
I wonder how she’s doing…I hope she’ll be okay.
His hearing was the last of his senses to finally give out. Those same ears had made him smile that very morning. Those same ears had delighted him with the morning sounds of the monastery—the monks training so far away, the soft wind rustling around the garden, the calls of birds waking up to the sunlight. Each wonderful sound had reached his ears during his meditation. But these new sounds were the unwelcome, loud cracks of thick wood splitting apart. They forcefully invaded his hearing as he felt his life slip away. And as his heart gave its final beat and the world disappeared into nothingness, Master Wén realized—to his horror—the sanctum doors had not merely been opened…they had simply been shattered by a single punch.
Chapter 1
Wait
Raylan felt his legs cramping up. He wondered how long they had been waiting in this cold. He saw his own breath in front of him as he forced his jaw to stay still. He peered around the rock that hid him in its shadow. Nearby, the dark leather armor of his squad mates shimmered wet from the rain. Whenever the moonlight broke through the clouds, everyone kept their swords close. Otherwise, the moonlight surely reflected on the smooth steel, if any of them swayed outside of the shadows. They had to be careful not to lose the element of surprise; their success depended on it. Raylan’s own sword was loosely in his hand, until the time arrived to act.
Windcatcher: Book I of the Stone War Chronicles Page 1