Relics

by K. T. Tomb

  “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” The two began circling each other like to tigers about to strike.

  “You seem to have forgotten something, Wang Mu,” he said, producing a sword.

  “I’ve forgotten nothing,” she replied; her sword at the ready.

  “You die in this legend.” He laughed.

  “You first,” she responded, lunging at him.

  The flurry which took place in front of Max happened so quickly that he was unable to actually see the blows which fell between them, but it looked as though the man was much more powerful than Min and the swiftness of his sword would soon spell her end. He was helpless to rush to her aid. He would be cut down instantly. As soon as the thought to join the battle entered his head the unthinkable happened.

  Min drew back away from the fray with blood from a deep wound on her arm flowing. As she drew back, Yung stepped forward and shoved her onto her back with his boot. He moved the sword above her throat and froze, extending a finger to swipe a smear of the blood on her arm.

  “The immortal blood of Wang Mu.” he chuckled, putting the finger in his mouth and smacking on the taste of the blood. The moment the blood touched his tongue, he turned bright blue, light formed around him and he began to transform. Max watched, frozen in the moment, as Yung transformed into a larger and stronger man, and then he suddenly found his wits. The AK-47 was only a few feet away. He scooped it up, aimed it at the hulking figure and emptied the clip. The force of the bullets caused the dark lord to stagger backward, but he did not go down.

  As he staggered backward, the remaining monks in the courtyard lunged at him, hoping to take him down with sheer force. In that instant, Max slipped in and scooped Min from the ground. It had all seemed hokey before, but as it was beginning to play out in front of his eyes, he suddenly realized that there was only one chance for Min, the peaches. He had to get her to the peaches.

  Min was as light as a feather as Max dashed along the corridor carrying her toward the garden and the life-giving peaches. She had gone limp in his arms and he suddenly realized that the wound on her arm was not the only one that she had suffered.

  When he reached the garden, he wasted no time. He plucked a peach from the tree, pierced it with the small dagger that Min kept in her waistband and began to squeeze the juice onto her wounds. He watched in amazement as the wounds began to instantly heal and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Max?” she said, looking up at him.

  “Oh my God, Min, I thought I had lost you.”

  “But you brought me here,” she smiled. “You believe.”

  “Yes, I believe, but we have to go. He’s become more powerful; we can never face him now. I can’t lose you.”

  “Max, you know we can’t run. We have to face our destiny.” She reached up and stroked his cheek.

  Her eyes pierced through to his soul. He could hear thunderous footsteps in the corridor. The dark lord was coming. He heard the thundering of his own heart as he searched the garden for a weapon or a place to hide.

  “Max, look at me.”

  Her voice drew his eyes back to her beautiful face. In spite of all that had taken place, in spite of the danger that would soon be storming in upon them, in spite of everything, he was still in awe of her beauty and of the tingle that went through him whenever she touched him.

  “My beautiful Max,” Min smiled. “No matter what happens, I love you and I will always love you.”

  “I love you too,” he replied and pressed his lips into hers for the first time.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Where is that little bitch?” The thundering voice of the black lord filled the garden as he stormed in with a large, scythe-like weapon in his hand. Max rose and stood in front of Min. He was no match for the powerful dark lord, but it did not matter to him. He would stand his ground for as long as it took for Min to get away.

  Forgetting all sense, he charged at the dark lord just like he had when he was playing linebacker at Burlington High School. As quickly as he began the charge, he was swatted aside as though he was nothing more than a troublesome fly. He tumbled into the wall and looked back toward Min expecting to see the dark lord finish her.

  In place of Min was a larger, more powerful woman bearing a scythe similar to that of the dark lord. Just as the legend had said, when they confessed their love for each other, she had been transformed into Wang Mu. The battle between the two rejoined as it had before in the courtyard, but with a greater intensity and with much more powerful blows ringing out as the scythes struck each other and sparks flew all around them.

  There was an intensely bright, glowing light coming from Wang Mu’s eyes and a radiance that surrounded her similar to the sinister, blue glow which enveloped the dark lord. As Max watched the battle, he could hardly believe the mixture of power and ferocity with which they fought. He was completely helpless to join in.

  The battle paused long enough for him to see the dark lord leap into the air and draw his scythe across the glass ceiling that covered the garden, sending large shards flying at Wang Mu. Several of the shards found their way into her flesh and she screamed out in pain while the dark lord laughed.

  “First blood again!”

  He had little time to celebrate the small victory as Wang Mu rushed him with increased rage. The intensity of the battle began anew and both combatants flew about the garden, leaping, diving, thrusting, rolling and spinning. Two jaguars in a fierce fight would have seemed like wrestling kittens in comparison to the battle that was raging around Max. It seemed as though the two were evenly matched at first and then Max detected signs of Wang Mu weakening. The wounds from the glass were drawing away her strength. He looked around again, wondering if there was some way that he could go to her aid, some weapon with which he might strike a blow of his own.

  As he searched the garden, he suddenly saw a scythe come sliding across the floor at him. It was Wang Mu’s. It had slipped out of her blood-soaked hand. She was retreating away from the dark lord; moving backward as they circled the peach tree. She was weak, stumbling and weaponless. The dark lord loomed toward her slowly, savoring the certain victory that he was about to gain.

  Like hell he will. Max scooped up the scythe and tossed it toward the fallen Wang Mu and then charged him again. If I can just buy her a second to make her thrust.

  Everything moved in slow motion and Max dug in to make his charge, screaming as he attacked. He saw the smile of the dark lord as he turned toward him, confident that the fool had no chance against him and then he saw his smile fade and a look of horror fill it just before Max struck him low and hard, driving him into the stone wall beyond.

  Max was actually shocked that he hadn’t been tossed aside and he leapt up from the limp body of the dark lord who began to shrivel away into the lifeless form of the former General Yung. Wang Mu’s scythe buried into his chest also withered away and disappeared before his eyes.

  Though it all still seemed unreal, Max spun around and started toward the place where Wang Mu had fallen. In her place was the tiny, beautiful form of Min; her empty eyes staring up at him. He rushed to her side and saw the severity of her wounds. How could she have possibly survived such a battle with such severe wounds? He tried to arouse her and realized that her eyes were lifeless and unresponsive.

  “The legend be damned,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he remembered the peaches. “We’ll make our own destiny.” He rushed to the tree and plucked a large, ripe fruit and returned to her side. Cutting it open he squeezed it onto her wounds and into her mouth and waited. Nothing happened. He returned to the tree and selected another, larger fruit, tears streaming down his face as he dashed back to her side, cut it open and doused her entire body with the juice.

  “No, dammit! No! No! No! You can’t leave me. I love you!” Max collapsed against the chest of the lifeless form. He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when he heard the soft steps moving through the garden. One of the monks had come to his side.r />
  “It is as it was told,” he said. “Do not despair. Wang Mu will live again. She will be born within another.”

  Max had no reply. He realized that the monk was right. The legend had been fulfilled exactly as it had been told. Did destiny truly have its way with the lives of people?

  For many hours, he lay with his head resting upon her lifeless form until the tears would no longer form and he could sob no more. When the monks finally came and took away her body, he slowly stood, walked down the long corridor, across the courtyard and started back through the tunnel.

  ***

  “At the temple there is a poem called ‘Loss’ carved into the stone.

  It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out.

  You cannot read loss, only feel it.”

  Epilogue

  It had been five years since Max had passed over the border between Tibet and India with a heavy heart. It had been nearly as heavy when he had passed over it in the opposite direction from India into Tibet three days before.

  Initially, he had refused the National Geographic assignment that forced him to return to Tibet. There were just too many painful memories for him there. In spite of his refusal, the chief editor continued to hound him. He wanted his best photographer on the job as China returned Tibet to their independent status.

  He smiled when he realized that Tibet would once again be free. Though it had taken some time, the defeat of the dark lord had indeed set the people free. Max still struggled with whether the defeat had a direct effect on the attitude of the Communist Party in China, since it was very unlikely that anyone other than himself and a few sequestered monks even knew that it had taken place.

  Though he rejoiced in Tibet’s new freedom, what eventually convinced him to take the assignment was the promise that he had made to Min’s grandmother that he would visit her again. Remembering the warmth of the woman and her home finally overwhelmed him and he stipulated some conditions to the editor about his travel. He had to be able to visit a certain village while he was there.

  As he neared the village, the memories hit him with full force. He wiped away the tears and swallowed the lump which was threatening to burst out of his throat as he stepped in front of the door of the tiny cottage that had been his home for a week. He raised his hand to knock when a small voice called out to him.

  “The woman’s no longer there.”

  Max turned slowly and looked down into the beautiful face and bright eyes of a five-year-old girl. “Where has she gone?”

  “Probably into a higher form. She was always so kind and good.”

  Max understood what she meant. Min’s grandmother had died. “How long ago did she… move on?”

  “Two years ago.”

  He suddenly felt guilty. He hadn’t carried out his promise. He hadn’t gone to visit her. It was enough to break the lump free in his throat. Tears and sobs that he had held inside for five years suddenly burst forth and he slumped onto the stoop.

  “Mister,” the little girl said, moving in close to him. “You need not cry. She’s in a better place.” She reached out and grasped hold of his hand.

  The instant her hand touched his own, he felt the old familiar tingle surge through him. Startled by the lost memory, he looked up into the little girl’s eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed them before? He knew those eyes. He had lived with them in his heart for years.

  “What’s your name?” he struggled to spit out the words between his sobs.

  Before she could answer, a stern woman appeared around the corner of the old cottage and called sharply to the little girl. “Min! Come! Now!”

  The little girl cocked her head to the side and smiled and then dashed off to her mother. Destiny did indeed have its way with the lives of people.

  ***

  July 7th, 2015

  Dear Virginia,

  I do hope that you are in good health and that all is well with your marvelous team in London. It is with extreme gratitude that I send you this work of mine; my treasured manuscript and hopefully the first of many such fantastical stories that I may be able to share with you as I continue along my travels of the world.

  All my professional life I have held firmly to the photographer’s credo that, ‘A picture is worth a thousand words’ but the experiences I had on my voyage through China three years ago left me doubting that way of thinking for a long time.

  Indeed, looking at life on the one dimensional surface of a photograph or magazine page can never be compared with the ubiquitous magnificence of gaining these experiences for one’s self. It was imperative for me to share these life-altering adventures of mine with others and I am eternally grateful to you for providing me with the outlet to do so.

  In your hands is the very first of many Max Harper manuscripts. It is a work that is very dear to my heart, as you will come to understand. I told my entire story within its pages. However, I would like to share a particularly touching folk story that a little friend of mine in Tibet told me while I was recently on assignment there. She gave me the only written copy that she had of it, claiming that she had long ago memorized the story. She felt that I had much more to gain from memorizing it myself than she did from holding on to it.

  It is my hope that perhaps you may find a suitable place within the manuscript where this story may be published.

  My very best wishes,

  Max

  ***

  The Butterfly Lovers

  Zhu Yingtai was a beautiful and intelligent young woman; the ninth child and only daughter of the wealthy Zhu family of Shangyu, Zhejiang. Although traditions of that era discouraged females from going to school, Zhu managed to convince her father to allow her to attend classes in disguise as a young man. During her journey to Hangzhou, she met Liang Shanbo, a scholar from Kuaiji. They chatted and felt a strong affinity for each other at their first meeting. Hence, they gathered some soil as incense and took an oath of fraternity in the pavilion of a thatched bridge.

  They studied together for the next three years in school and Zhu gradually fell in love with Liang. Although Liang equaled Zhu in their studies, he was such a bookworm that he failed to notice the feminine characteristics exhibited by his classmate.

  One day, Zhu received a letter from her father, asking her to return home as soon as possible. Zhu had no choice but to pack her belongings immediately and bid Liang farewell. However, in her heart, she had already confessed her love for Liang and was determined to be with him for all eternity. Before her departure, she revealed her true identity to the headmaster's wife and requested her to deliver a jade pendant to Liang as a betrothal gift.

  Liang accompanied his "sworn brother" for 18 miles to see her off. During the journey, Zhu hinted to Liang that she was actually a woman. For example, she compared them to a pair of mandarin ducks; a symbol of lovers in Chinese culture, but Liang did not catch on to her hints and did not even have the slightest suspicion that his companion was a woman in disguise. Zhu finally came up with an idea and told Liang that she would act as a matchmaker for him and his "sister." Before they parted, Zhu reminded Liang to visit her residence later so he could propose to marry her "sister." Liang and Zhu reluctantly parted ways at the Changting pavilion.

  Months later, when Liang visited Zhu, he discovered that she was actually a woman. They were devoted to and passionate about each other and they made a vow to love each other "till death do us part." The joy of their reunion was short-lived as Zhu's parents had already arranged for her to marry a man from a rich family called Ma Wencai. Liang was heartbroken when he heard the news and his health gradually deteriorated until he became critically ill. He died in office later as a county magistrate.

  On the day of Ma and Zhu's marriage, mysterious whirlwinds prevented the wedding procession from escorting the bride beyond Liang's grave, which lay along the journey. Zhu left the procession to pay her respects to the dead and when she identified Liang’s grave, she fell to her knees in bitter despair and begged for the
grave to open up. Suddenly, the grave opened with a clap of thunder. Without further hesitation, Zhu threw herself into the grave to join Liang. Their spirits turned into a pair of beautiful butterflies and emerged from the grave. They flew away together as a pair of butterflies and were never to be separated again.

  The End

  Return to the Table of Contents

  CURSE OF THE COINS

  A novel by

  K.T. TOMB

  Curse of the Coins

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb

  All rights reserved.

  Curse of the Coins

  Introduction

  Panbride Church,

  Carnoustie, Scotland

  The shade beneath the trees in the churchyard was eerie.

  Little flecks of light and an abundance of shadows made being among the ancient tombstones unsettling for Ophelia Morton.

  The countess made quick work of laying the five wreaths she carried on the respective graves and made her way into the church building without hesitation when she had finished paying her respects. Visiting the final resting places of her clansmen was a tradition her great grandfather had passed on to his offspring and Ophelia kept up the practice despite her dislike of cemeteries.

  “Minister McKinley,” she said, greeting the elderly clergyman with a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

  “Indeed, Countess. I wouldn’t be lying when I tell you we in the parish wished you would visit more often.”

  She smiled at the sentiment. He had always been a congenial man.

  “You of all people know how much of my time is taken up keeping things moving smoothly at Quests Unlimited. Our work there is often a matter of keeping our members safe when their lives are in the balance.”