by Ryan Kirk
He’d expected the shield. As a child, he would have responded exactly the same. He planted his left foot in front of the shield and spun around it.
The first sign of the shield only protected a small area. The trainee brought his shield around, following Delun’s movements, keeping it between the two of them.
Delun stopped his spin with his back to the trainee. He didn’t attack, but moved his own right hand quickly through the first two focusing signs of an attack. He wanted to hurt the boy, not kill him. His life was too valuable.
The trainee, confused by the lack of a strike and Delun’s sudden stillness, dropped his shield. Delun assumed the boy had simply lost focus, his mental energy already consumed by the effort required to use two techniques at once. This mistake wasn’t terrible. The boy had already started signing a second shield with his open hand.
But a single mistake in a single moment was enough to lose a fight. Delun had been patiently waiting for it, had felt it coming.
The trainee realized the consequences as Delun twisted around. Too late, the monk felt Delun’s own power. The young monk attempted to finish his shield, but Delun didn’t leave him enough time. Delun turned enough so that he could point his right hand at the monk and released his attack, directly into the trainee’s torso.
The blast threw the monk backward, crashing against the shields of the monks behind him. The young monk’s eyes went soft for a moment, and Delun worried he’d hit the boy too hard.
Then the monk recovered and everyone in the circle relaxed. A few of the monks chuckled softly, and Delun heard one monk say to another, “I thought he’d last longer.”
Delun walked over to his sparring partner and offered his hand. The younger monk took it, and Delun pulled him gently back to his feet. Delun gave the monk a questioning glance.
The trainee had a sheepish grin on his face. “I’ll have bruises, but I’ll be fine.”
Delun gave the monk a short bow, which was returned with slightly more respect. Then he turned to walk to his quarters.
He was stopped before he could make it three paces beyond the circle. Another monk, acting as a messenger, had been waiting for just this moment. “The abbot wants to see you.”
Delun nodded his acknowledgement and changed direction toward the larger building in the center of the monastery. He was approaching his thirtieth birthday, and the monastery high in the mountains above the town of Two Bridges had been his home for almost twenty of them.
The monastery had a long and distinguished story, but its most recent history had catapulted it to its unique status in the monastic system. Twenty years ago it had been burned to the ground, its previous abbot killed, the whole incident a prelude to the Battle of Jihan. Taio, their current abbot, had returned from Jihan and rebuilt it.
Damage from the fire was still evident. Blackened stones formed the foundations of some of the buildings, and the wood showed far less age than most monasteries. The logs had been hauled up one by one from the forests far below. The resulting architecture struck a discordant note, one that Taio frequently acknowledged. The burned stones reminded them of their past, but the new walls kept them focused on building a better future.
The monastery at Two Bridges was unique among monasteries. It only accepted trained monks, and its purpose was simple: to protect the monastic system at all costs.
The monks at Two Bridges didn’t patrol the roads or wander the lands, as so many of their peers were supposed to do. They weren’t focused on maintaining the peace of the empire, at least not directly. In the twenty years since Jihan, the threats against the monasteries had only grown. Delun and his peers fought against those forces. No work was more meaningful.
Delun found Taio in his study. The man sat, stiff as a board, studying the most recent batch of messages he had received. When Delun bowed and entered, Taio motioned for him to take a place across the table.
Delun kneeled and Taio poured him a cup of tea. Delun’s eyes flicked over the messages, but he refused to read them. Their contents were for Taio, who would tell him what he needed to know.
“How long did the fight last?” the abbot asked.
“Not long.”
“Your thoughts?”
“He needs experience.” How many times had Delun said those very words in this room? Almost a dozen monks had gone through their unofficial rites with Delun, and almost every time Delun’s answer was the same. The monks didn’t lack for strength or dedication, but until they spent more time out in the world, traveling and adapting to situations, training alone would never suffice.
Taio nodded, accepting the advice as he always did. For a moment, Delun wondered if Taio would ask more questions about the trainee. Instead, the abbot slid a note across his desk to Delun, spinning it so Delun could read it. Delun took in the information with a glance. His eyes wandered back to the abbot. “How certain are you of the information?”
“As much as I can be. The source has proven trustworthy in the past, and the information matches my own thinking. The west is a hotbed of seditious activity, which makes it ideal for rebellious ideologies to take root.”
Delun didn’t need to ask what his task would be. It was always some variation of the same theme, and he was given a wide latitude to handle situations as he saw fit. He was the best at what he did.
“You’ll leave in the morning. I’m coordinating fresh horses for you along the entire route.”
Delun’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He currently sat on the opposite end of the empire. The fresh horses would make the trip several times faster, especially if there was a carriage. But the expense was considerable, to say the least.
The abbot answered the unspoken question. “The Golden Leaf is perhaps the greatest threat I can foresee to monastic stability. If this tip is accurate, you might be able to cut the head off the snake. It’s worth the cost.” Taio gave a slight smile. “But I can’t afford to bring you home the same way.”
Delun nodded. The way he saw it, his role in life was straightforward. He owed Taio his life and more, and he’d gladly follow the abbot’s orders, no matter the risk. If Taio wanted something done, Delun would see it through. There was never any point in questioning the abbot.
“Is there anything else I should know?”
Taio thought for a moment. “I’ve been hearing rumors of this Golden Leaf for years now. It’s been hard to separate fact from story, but the sheer prevalence of rumors worries me. I know you will be, but remain vigilant. If half of what I’ve heard of them is true, they may be far more organized and dangerous than any group you’ve encountered before.”
The abbot handed over a sealed note. “This orders any monastery to provide whatever aid you require. It will be obeyed.”
Delun took the note, folding it neatly into his robes. He was about to stand when he saw a flicker of doubt cross over the abbot’s face. He’d known Taio too long to let that pass without remark. “What?”
Taio hesitated for a moment before answering. “It might be nothing. But there are other rumors from the west, coming from high up in the mountains where no law reaches. I suspect someone lives up there, someone even you don’t want to tangle with. I don’t know if his presence and the Golden Leaf are related, but I would be very afraid if they were.”
Delun’s curiosity was piqued. Who would be so strong as to concern Taio? The abbot knew well Delun’s skill and strength. “Who?”
Taio shook his head, unwilling to say more. “A ghost of the past.”
3
The voices circled around Bai, close enough now that she could make out their words.
“Did you find someone?”
“No survivors here.”
“Search that building. Move closer to the square.”
The voices all sounded low and gravelly. Buried in her small cave, Bai couldn’t decide if they were distraught or calm. The men, whoever they were, kept their voices even. She pushed herself deeper into the shadows, a sharp point digging into he
r back. She welcomed the pain, so long as it kept her out of sight of the men searching the area. Her fingers squeezed tightly at the bracelet like a scared child clutching onto their parent.
At first, Bai hoped the men would move on quickly. Once gone, she could decide her next steps. She had no money, but her skill as a seamstress was known in town. There would be work for her. Would someone shelter her, at least until she could purchase a house? She had no answers to any of her questions. Her mother had always been the one to worry about such things.
There were kind people in Galan, though. Some gave her mom more money than the work required. The baker sometimes let them take a loaf without paying. Bai forced herself to hope.
Her town would help her.
The voices drew closer, and the memory of her mother’s calming guidance came back to her, the same advice Bai had heard her whole life. “Never let them see you, my dear. Attract no attention and you’ll come to no harm.”
The repeated thoughts of her mother brought tears to Bai’s eyes. As thirsty as she felt, she was surprised she could cry. Her last memory of her mother would always be that arm, sticking out of the rubble, cold and lifeless. She choked back a sob, breathing in a cloud of dust.
Her reaction was immediate and uncontrollable. She coughed, then immediately covered her mouth, gripping so tightly nothing could escape. She cursed to herself, hoping against hope she hadn’t been heard.
“Over here! I thought I heard someone!”
Footsteps approached. Bai considered showing herself, but her mother’s advice made too much sense. She had no guarantee these were villagers here to help. The men could be here to finish the destruction they had started. She could feign death, or at least unconsciousness. Perhaps that would be enough for them to leave her alone.
She closed her eyes and stilled her breathing, her tired lungs burning with the need for more air. Dust tickled the back of her throat. If only she could cough one more time, she could clear the tickle, but she didn’t dare. The men were already too close.
A single man stopped in front of her hiding place. From the sounds he made, Bai guessed that he had spotted her. She held her breath and willed herself to perfect stillness.
Though her eyelids were closed, she could detect the light of the lamp as it was held close to her. She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and finally had to exhale and inhale. She made the actions as slow as possible, but her efforts were doomed to failure.
The loud voice in front of her almost made her jump. “I found someone!”
Bai figured she had no choice but to continue her ruse. If they were villagers here to help, they would help regardless of her condition. If the men meant harm, perhaps her feigned unconsciousness would keep her safe.
She wanted to open her eyes to see if she recognized anyone. Recognition meant safety. But she didn’t dare.
Voices called back and forth, the men spreading news of a survivor. Before long, Bai guessed that there were at least five men in front of her hole. They discussed among themselves whether it made sense to pull her out, or if it might cause more harm.
Eventually the harsh voices were joined by one a softer one. Bai kept her eyes closed and her breathing as slow and steady as possible. She heard the sounds of feet shuffling and then a new presence knelt down in front of her. She couldn’t put the words to her feelings, but somehow she knew this man wasn’t like the rest. His presence was lighter.
Gentle fingers prodded around her ribs and felt along her neck. Bai almost tensed up at the touch, just barely managing to keep her reaction under control. It had been years since any man had touched her. Her mother said that men were just another opportunity to court trouble they couldn’t afford.
Bai assumed the man was a doctor. After a few moments of silently examining her, he told the men it would be fine to move her. Several strong, firm hands wrapped themselves around her arms and legs and pulled her gently out of the hole.
Bai was almost convinced, but decided to play out the ruse. Her heart beat lightly in her chest. No doubt, these were villagers.
She would be safe.
She was laid softly on flat ground and she heard the doctor’s voice calling for space. She sensed the man kneel down next to her, that same gentle presence again. Soon, the unmistakable pungent scent of smelling salts came wafting through her nostrils. No matter how strong her control might have been, there was nothing she could have done in the face of such an odor.
Bai coughed and opened her eyes, tears trickling down her face from the force of the aroma. She blinked rapidly, not needing to fake her disorientation.
She got her first glance at the men. Almost immediately she recognized some of them from around town. She had made the robes several of them now wore. The looks on their faces ranged from confusion to fear, hatred, and sorrow.
Of course, the disaster had affected them all. She wasn’t the only one who had lost a loved one. Their town wasn’t that large, and everyone would have known at least one of the lost. She saw the storm of her own emotions reflected on the faces of those who stared at her.
Another man entered the circle, younger than many. “I don’t think there are any other survivors.”
Looks passed between the men, about her. Bai felt her heart pounding faster. What did it mean that she was the only one who had survived? More people stared at her severely.
She understood, intuiting the feelings none of them dared speak aloud. She’d always understood people, sometimes better than they seemed to understand themselves. They hated her for surviving. Hated her for being the one who still drew breath when those they cared for no longer did. She hoped they would treat her kindly enough, but nothing she could do would diminish that hate.
Only time would allow it to fade.
Bai looked for one friendly face, someone she could connect with, someone who might shelter her. She had never known many of the townspeople as more than acquaintances or clients. Her days were spent indoors, hidden from the world, buried deep in the work her mother gave her. She wasn’t invited to meals, had no childhood friends to lean on. It had always been her and her mother.
Now it was just her. She started to cry again.
A hand gently squeezed her shoulder, and Bai realized that the doctor had been speaking to her. “I’m sorry, girl, but what is the last thing you remember?”
Bai thought of her mother, sending her out for errands that morning. “Mother. She wanted me to pick up fabric at the market.”
More looks passed between the men in the circle around her. Even the doctor looked disappointed. She didn’t have the answers they sought. “Are you sure you don’t remember more?”
Bai squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember, the same door as before blocking her memories. “I think there were some boys playing ball in the square.”
Off to the side, a man listening suddenly broke down in tears, his neighbors extending comforting arms around him.
The doctor nodded, as though Bai had said something important. She didn’t think she had, though. “Can you stand? I’ll take you someplace where you can rest. Your memories will return in time.”
Bai, with the help of several men, got to her feet. She leaned against one of her rescuers, grateful for the sturdy support. She felt as though she would collapse again if left on her own. Even her eyelids felt heavy. Though she didn’t dare confess her worry to the doctor, she feared she wasn’t well.
The doctor led the way as they left the market. The going was slow, the men struggling to support Bai’s unsteady weight as they moved across the rubble. Eventually, shattered houses and collapsed roofs gave way to unbroken road, and their pace increased.
Though the streets looked familiar, Bai couldn’t say where they were going. Her mind felt so tired, and all she could think about was finding a place to lay her head, to rest as long as needed. Before long they were in front of a big, squat building. Some part of her recognized it, knowing she had seen it before, but she couldn’t place it.
She was brought into the building and into a small room, complete with a bed and bedpan.
The room was warm, and as the doctor sat her down on the bed, one of the men that had escorted them left and came back with food and drink. Bai gulped at the water greedily, the water soothing her scratchy throat, but found that she couldn’t eat much food. The doctor watched everything she did with a curious eye.
Soon they were joined by another man. Bai recognized him, though it took her a few moments to place his face. It was the elder of their town.
The title was a bit of a misnomer, a holdover from when small towns and villages were governed by the oldest living citizen. The man in front of her was not the oldest in town, but had been chosen from among the willing elders to lead the town in important matters. He was well regarded.
The doctor glanced over at the elder, and Bai noticed for the first time the elder’s eyes were red-rimmed. “She claims she doesn’t remember anything.”
The elder glared at her, as though the force of his will would uncover the mystery of what had destroyed the town market. Bai felt guilt lodge itself deep in her stomach, twisting it in knots.
“I’m sorry, sir. I wish that I remembered more, but I don’t. I’ll keep trying.”
The elder gave her a gruff nod, and Bai saw the same hate in his manner that she’d seen from so many of the other men. From the elder, the hate seemed particularly sharp. She guessed he had lost someone particularly important.
The doctor, content with the care he had administered, stood up. “We’ll leave the food and water here for you. Let us know if there is anything else you need.”
Bai bowed toward the men. They were kind to care for her after the disaster. Kind to give her shelter. Her hope had not been misplaced.
Without another word, they stood and stepped out of the room together, closing the door behind them. Bai heard the sound of wood scraping on wood, the sound not quite registering in her confused state. She looked at the door, perplexed by the iron bars embedded in the thick wood.