Ghost Monkey

by Paul R. Davis

  "How can I repay you for this? How can I repay your God for this?"

  Dameneh touched Sugriva's chest, and warmth tingled and spread from the spot until it settled in his stomach. Dameneh said, "You have nothing to repay, but if you would, follow the One willingly. Love Him with all your heart. He is the God of all gods. He is the creator of the Ashtadash you bend your knee before. They were little more than servants."

  "I will," Sugriva muttered, stunned. "Teach me more."

  Dameneh and Sugriva, along with several others, wandered the streets of Bahimatt until they found a garden. The small black child sat and taught all day, until the sun went down.

  Midway through the lessons, the little boy who Sugriva hurt arrived. He sat by the monkey. "Sugriva, you're following that kid? He's not much older than me."

  Sugriva whispered back, "He is a wise man, but his people look like children. He has more wisdom than you, since you're here sitting by me."

  "Why wouldn't I?" The boy shrugged, then took out a piece of grass and chewed on it.

  "I hurt you. Badly. You aren't here for the prophet, you're here for me."

  The boy elbowed Sugriva. "Yeah? What of it?"

  "You forgive me?" He didn't fully understand the concept as Dameneh was preaching it, but he knew it was the right use.

  "What's that mean?"

  "I wronged you. I hurt you. That's bad. You aren't holding it in your heart?"

  "No. If forgiving you is not being mad, I'm not mad, Ghost Monkey."

  The monkey smirked.

  Dameneh stopped his lesson, and pointed to Sugriva and the boy. "Your warrior was once mad. He has his sanity because the One gave it back. Now, he asks forgiveness of this boy he nearly killed. The boy has given it. If we can release our madness like Sugriva and forgive wrongs like this boy, we will get closer to the One."

  When Dameneh went back to his teachings, the boy turned to Sugriva. "I want more of your story. What happened next?"

  "I'm going to talk to Dameneh and some of his people. Join us and I'll tell you what happens next."

  AFTER THE PREACHING, when the sun set and the crowds left, Dameneh and his closest followers brought Sugriva and the boy to their home.

  Tabr said, "I found a better place. It's actually a house, instead of an apartment."

  "Should we do that? Others might—"

  "Dameneh, the city is barely populated. We could each have three houses and there'd still be space." He winked at Dameneh.

  The girl who was always by Dameneh, Saha, chuckled. "Husband, relax. We will fill the house."

  When they arrived, Qas let out an audible wow, or as close as she could get. She signed.

  Tabr turned to Sugriva. "She says this is about as nice as her estate in Abr. It's where we found her."

  "Then she was wealthy," Sugriva muttered.

  There was an outer wall with two gates. The gates were open, though it looked like some mechanism could call them up from slats in the floor. A fountain was in the center of the courtyard when they first walked in. The fountain was shaped like three fish, each spitting out water, though the fountain was dry for the time. Trees, bushes, and flowers all lined the house. Fruit was on the ground, shed by the trees and shriveled because no one ate them. A few were gnawed by insects and rodents.

  Sugriva immediately went to the fruit trees and found a peach. He plucked one and ate it, then he handed another to the kid. "This is paradise. I can't imagine what inside will look like."

  Tabr went to the door and inside the house was a switch. He flipped it and outside lights gently illuminated the estate. Inside, bright lights made it easy to see.

  Dameneh fidgeted. "I don't know if I like this. We should live humbly."

  "We will stay here tonight. Tomorrow I'll find us a nice place, and this will become a center for us to do business. We can judge and teach here."

  "Dameneh," Saha said, wrapping her arms around him, "it's okay to enjoy life sometimes. This is a gift. There are many around the city. We are not being selfish."

  There was a large room on the first floor which had several chairs. Many of the chairs were mangled from time. A few were made slag from fire and some other calamity the city suffered. The chairs were put around a fire which could start itself without wood. It created warmth as the metal city cooled off in the night.

  Tabr said, "Sugriva, you were going to tell us the next story."

  The boy Sugriva hurt piped up. "Yes, he is. It's the only reason I'm here. Tell us more, Ghost."

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Exiled Ghost Monkey

  Age of Men 808

  Commander Fateh heard rumors of a demon monkey running amok through the serpent pits. Interrogated Fangs called him the Feral Ghost, the Ghost Monkey, the Demon of Demons. Originally, Humbari sent Fateh and his men to check in on Madhav's group, but it turned up strange myths. The commander continued with the efforts to harass the Fangs. He destroyed numerous pits. With no sign of Ravasha, the rumors of demons rising up again to strike against the Jaya Kingdom faded. Aside from the one demonic monkey. General Humbari was able to bring back two kingdoms to the war efforts due to the tireless advance. Even Prince Anka renewed his blessing for the assaults, claiming his decree to recall Humbari was written down erroneously.

  Fateh slid down a tree branch to see another fallen pit. Fang bodies, both snake and man, were desecrated well after they were killed. It was like a ritual took place. It could only be Sugriva, his mind cracked beyond repair. The killing machine served its purpose, and as the vanguard neared where the feral monkey called home, it was time to put him down. A hawk ahead squawked and raced back. "There's a monkey covered in ash. He's chasing after survivors."

  "Is it him?"

  “It’s a blood thirsty monkey covered in ash slaughtering Fangs. See that often?” The hawk rolled his eyes.

  "Kill him. It will be a mercy." Fateh readied his spear. It was the purpose of the spear, and the tip was ordained by the spirits, each one heaping a blessing on it so the monkey would be struck by all four elements when it pierced his flesh.

  The hawk shook his head. "We should subdue him and bring him back." Fateh didn't understand the hawk and several of the other men. They looked up to Sugriva and his lost soul. They nearly worshiped him in place of the Ashtadash. They called him a spirit of war. But Fateh knew the monkey for the threat he was: a dangerous weapon which needed to be shattered upon the knee and discarded, for Jaya would not be able to properly wield him.

  The hawk continued, "Poison him in his sleep. Pits cannot slow him down. How will we be a match? We’ll just piss him off and point him toward Jaya."

  "Fine." It was likely true. If they failed, Jaya would face a single foe far worse than all the Fangs. "When the monkey slates his blood lust, I will petition him for peace and ask him to come with us." Then he could wash his hands of it, avoiding the disgrace in front of his men. It could be Humbari's problem.

  Commander Fateh waited until night, when the monkey paused in his slaughter. He said, "Sugriva, I am Commander Fateh. General Humbari sent me to see who struck fear into the hearts of the Fangs, and here we find you, quite alive. Come with us."

  However, the hawk was shiftier than the commander, and Fateh was bait. Sugriva howled and lunged after the commander. Before the monkey could strike, he was struck on the head with a branch. Commander Fateh shouted, "He tried to kill me! I’m going to kill him here and now!"

  The hawk quipped, "No. We’ll take him to General Humbari."

  SUGRIVA BLINKED AND looked around the court. He never stood in the Jayan palace, but there he was. Rosewood stairs circled up to a marble platform. The marble, as if one piece, lifted up into a backrest. Ivory, masterfully carved, sat on the top of the backrest. The carvings told of battles fought by Jaya, the ivory arcs ever reaching for the ceiling with every passing century. Two elephant statues were set on either side of the elevated platform, each gilded. One had eyes of emeralds and the other of sapphires, depicting water and ear
th.

  Prince Anka sat on cushions placed in front of the backrest. He wore a crown of gold which flared in the front, as if golden feathers were placed in the band. His vest was crimson with gold tassels hanging from the bottom, and his pants were the color of turmeric. It was a man of plenty, and a king of peace. Sugriva wondered how long he had fought in the jungle and if the Venomoid Wars ended.

  General Humbari, in his bear janaav form, stood next to the prince, since it was a military matter. The other advisers all stood at the foot of the throne. Sugriva took in the rest of the hall, the massive stone walls with gold and ivory plating. People watched and whispered. Metal bit into Sugriva's wrists.

  "Why am I here?" he muttered.

  Realization stuck him: he was immensely corrupt. Execution was the only path for him, the trial a formality to appease the spirits. To keep everyone on their rightful path.

  Sugriva scoffed.

  "Good afternoon, Sugriva." Prince Anka started the execution. Often times they were private, but the kingdom liked to make a show of what corruption begot. Sugriva would lose his head in the city center.

  "We are here today to discuss you."

  Sugriva opened his mouth to speak. Only a black smoke came out, the briefest puff. It dissipated, but not before eliciting a gasp from the crowd. He forgot how to talk, and this infuriated him.

  "You were feral when we found you. The Ashtadash saw fit to bless you, soaking you in blood and snake skins. We surrounded Ravasha and burned down his final pit. He got away, but we put an end to the demon's army. We find the spirits were kind in taking away your memory from those years, as we cannot imagine the horrors you suffered to ensure our victory."

  They didn't know. He searched the crowd and saw a mixture of fear and respect. It felt uncomfortable. Sugriva found his voice, and it came out raspy. "What?"

  General Humbari cut in. "You gave us victory, though when we found you, you were out of your mind. Our healers spent months bringing your mind back to this state. Even your fur gave off smoke, and we thought we would have to kill you. Your level of corruption says we should kill you, but your service to the kingdom says we should honor you."

  "If I live?" he asked. There was hope in his breast. A coin toss chance at life was better than assured death.

  "Retirement to the countryside. You gave so much to us, and though it's the path of an old man, you deserve it."

  Sugriva scowled. "I'm not old enough. The Ashtadash do not care what we do in a short time, but in the time given. I cannot stop walking my dharma."

  The crowd fidgeted. Humbari avoided eye contact. A knot formed in Sugriva's gut. He would not have a good reincarnation if left where he was, but it seemed it was hermitage or death. He could always figure something out from his secluded hut, some way to redeem himself without getting involved in Jayan affairs.

  The brahmin stood off to the side, and Sugriva looked to them. "Priests, you know what the path is and isn't. Am I ready for hermitage? If you give me your blessing, which comes from the spirits, I will walk it." Sugriva prayed hard the brahmin would allow this, or he just consigned himself to death.

  One of the priests, in his blue robes, stepped forward. "The spirits have given you much and taken much. You shouldered the burdens admirably. Take your rest from the kingdom, as they have other plans for you. Plans for you to wrestle with corruption. If you can fend off the demon's evil, you could be a great teacher for others."

  Sugriva bowed. "With the blessing of the brahmin, I take on my new dharma."

  "I'M TWENTY-FIVE," HE muttered, sweeping his cottage's front porch. "I should be hunting bandits and cutting down rebels."

  The cottage sat on a cliff which overlooked the Jayan Empire, with the capital off in the distance, a massive palace piercing the canopy. Sugriva spent hours in the morning and evening meditating on the cliff, staring at his point of contention. It was not simply a forced hermitage, but exile. Smoke exuded from his nails, and he could feel his vision tint red.

  It's not right what they're doing to you, the voice said. You should return, and be the shadow you were against the Fang. Become the demon they think you are.

  "No," he sighed, turning from the palace. The smoke of his nails diminished slightly. "I won’t be the monster."

  Why not? You could eat, screw, pillage. Whatever you want. Why deny yourself from those denying you? Your rightful path is the warrior, and Prince Anka told you not to follow it. He is dooming your reincarnation. Slit his throat. Chop up Humbari and serve him to his men. Steal their power and the power of Jaya.

  He sighed, exhausted from the banter. Kill this person. Eat that person. If only the voice was more creative.

  "Excuse me, are you the warrior Sugriva?" A hawk janaav took Sugriva out of his head. The hawk wore a loin cloth and ceremonial leather bangle.

  They've come to finish you.

  "Good," Sugriva whispered.

  "Actually, I'm hermit Sugriva. I don't walk the path of the warrior anymore." He stared at the stew, stirring it. "I'm preparing supper. Join me."

  He will just kill you while you eat. The voice wore at Sugriva's nerves.

  The hawk took a sniff and winced. "I think I'll pass." The janaav was regal and proud, chest feathers puffed out. A general? He looked familiar to Sugriva, and warriors were the only people he spent much time with.

  "Then why bother me? A messenger already brought my stipend, though I'd take double pay."

  "I think you're wasting your time in this village. Don't you?"

  A ploy. Don't let down your guard.

  Sugriva grabbed his head and shut his eyes hard. Tears threatened to streak down his cheeks. "Shut up," he whispered. Then he looked up at the hawk, who was startled but didn't step back. "What are you saying?"

  The hawk hesitated, but after a pause, he continued. "You're a warrior. I want to give you back your identity. I don't want the chaos to consume you. Otherwise, one day we will come up here to find everyone dead, and we will put you down."

  See? They are here to kill you. They threaten you and the village!

  He bit his tongue, then his lip, until both bled. When he calmed his mind, he asked, "When do I leave?"

  WATERFALLS SLAMMED into Sugriva's shoulders and drowned out the world. Even the voice in his head was no match for the violent deluge. When the sun rose or set, Sugriva sat in the canopies, watching as the rays burned away his uncertainties and fears. A cave welcomed him, and in that darkness, the dampness seeping into his bones, he found the corruption was not everywhere, and isolation could be his friend.

  Foul and sweet poultices were administered by physicians. A few physicians looked at what Sugriva took previously, but it was impossible to recreate the chaos flower. Yogis taught yoga, and Sugriva contorted his way to peace. Flexibility in the body aided flexibility in the mind. The entire time, the voice screamed at him. It said he was unworthy of the opportunity. It commanded him to kill everyone. Then it faded to a whisper, a small tug at the back of his mind. Calm entered his soul, and he could see his path clearly once more. Though, as he continued his habits, he realized that it took nearly a full day of meditation to keep the voice in check.

  Divyan approached Sugriva one morning, as the monkey watched the sun rise. "It's time for you to fight. Just one bout."

  The thought of violence gripped Sugriva's heart, and the voice screamed with the opening. It's time, monkey. They just want you to kill. Why are you their puppet? Reign in those strings. Be your own master. Kill them or flee, it doesn't matter. What matters is giving into yourself.

  "I don't know if I can," Sugriva whispered. It physically hurt when the voice spoke. He feared attacking Divyan on the spot. The general would have no choice but to kill him for the outburst.

  "It is your dharma. Come."

  Sugriva followed the hawk dutifully, down the trees, through the streets, to the training compound. It was on the outskirts of Jaya, keeping Sugriva far from people.

  A large man stepped out, his skin orange
with black bands. A tiger. Divyan presented the man. "This is your opponent. Stay in control. Breathe."

  Sugriva sat back, and the tiger charged. He shifted into a janaav, the half tiger and half man clawing through the air. Sugriva shifted into a monkey and used his tail to spring between the tiger's legs.

  Sugriva laughed as he shifted into a man. "You are an oaf. How will you challenge me?"

  "Says the crazy monkey who can't shift into a proper janaav." With that, the tiger took a stone from the ground and threw it, striking Sugriva between the eyes.

  The world went red. Sugriva bared his fangs he lunged. Divyan and a dozen others stepped in, striking Sugriva multiple times before he succumbed.

  Similar incidents continued for months, until Sugriva could have a half dozen bouts without losing his composure. Every day Divyan was beside Sugriva, whether he was in the hospital or on the training grounds. Every day the hawk general lifted Sugriva up in esteem, even when the monkey wanted to quit. Instead, he desired the approval of Divyan, a father he never had. A father he couldn't have.

  Temperatures dropped, and the days were chilly. Sugriva wore a jacket, instead of his normal vest. "General, I'm here to spar."

  "Not today," Divyan said. "Follow me." They went through the courtyard into some back rooms, until they reached the general's personal room. It was lavish, as was befitting Divyan's path. Fine woods were used to depict battles Divyan led or fought personally in. The center had a training circle lined in silver. Hawk statues littered the parameter.

  There was a boy in the circle. He was a teenager, with a long and defined nose. His hair took on the brown of a hawk.

  "Today," Divyan said, going to a weapon rack. "You will teach my boy, Amu, in the use of the bow staff." He picked up two staffs and handed one to the boy and one to Sugriva. "The staff is your specialty, based on the battle reports before you lost your mind.”