Heart of Defiance

by Ryan Kirk

  Delun had never seen so much destruction. Only once before had he seen anything close, and that was in Jihan all those years ago. Back then, the victims weren’t monks. They’d been citizens, caught in the wrong places at the wrong time.

  Delun took a faltering step toward the monks, then stopped, his sense of separation from his brothers stronger than ever. They were helping one another to their feet, carrying the wounded back toward the gate. For all of Guanyu’s flaws, he led the men well. The shields remained, one springing up as soon as the previous one fell. The wounded were cared for first, and Delun knew the dead would be moved next. He could help, but there was nothing he could do that couldn’t be done by another.

  The work he needed to do was deeper in Kulat. The ambush had to be the Golden Leaf. No other explanation made sense. When he found them, they would answer for their crimes.

  Delun turned his back to the monastery, every thought turned to the hunt.

  19

  Bai walked in a nightmare. Clouds obscured the night sky, covering what little light the stars and moon offered with dense shadow. As she picked her way down the main trail toward Galan, all she could make out was different shades of darkness. Rocks stabbed at her feet and roots reached out to trip her.

  She was lost in a world of thought, the real world a dull reflection of the terrors she imagined in vivid detail. She heard the soft voices behind her but couldn’t make out what they said. Even sound was muffled by the thoughts that crushed her spirit as she descended the mountain.

  Yang’s story had shattered her. She refused to believe. The monk had seen something, but not what he had described. This was yet another trick, some new hideous way of exerting power over others.

  Bai couldn’t live with not knowing any longer. She needed answers. She needed certainty, something firm she could hold onto as the world collapsed around her.

  Lei and Yang accompanied her. Yang reported that the townspeople had stopped watching the pass, and life had returned to something resembling normal in Galan. Daiyu lent Bai a cloak with a deep hood so she could cover her face. Lei’s wife had also given her a dagger to hide in the cloak. She had said it was unwise to travel without some protection. Bai had accepted it without question, not sure what she would do with it. Together, Bai and the two monks made their way down the trail.

  Galan soon came into view, darker shadows against a barely lighter background. Bai shivered when she saw it. From a distance, her town looked dead. A small handful of torches flickered against the oppressive darkness, but she didn’t see anyone on the streets, nor did she see many lights in the houses.

  Lei caught up to her. “How are you?”

  She ignored his question. “Can you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “That sense of wrongness. It’s… darker here.” She struggled to find the right words.

  She thought Lei would dismiss her ideas, but he didn’t.

  “The energy that the monks use, the energy that you use, is connected to life,” he said. “There have been claims that when a tragedy occurs that takes many lives, monks feel it. Most don’t, but there is speculation that the more sensitive among us are capable of feeling the echoes of the loss of life.”

  “Can you?”

  Lei shook his head and Bei thought she saw just a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I think I’m grateful I cannot.” She got the sense he wasn’t referring to Galan, but to something deeper in his past.

  They lapsed into silence then, but for the first time, Bai had stopped thinking about Galan. She thought of Lei instead, curious what series of events had brought this man to hide in the mountains away from the monasteries and the empire.

  Then they entered the town and her thoughts turned once again to the past. They hadn’t gone more than a few paces past the first houses when she needed to stop. Her new allies stopped and watched, concern evident on their faces.

  They couldn’t understand. Galan had been her home. She knew these streets intimately. She knew every single person that lived here. But it wasn’t home anymore. There was no welcome here, no sense of belonging. She’d been sliced out of the only community she’d ever known.

  Bai put one foot in front of the other, forcing herself forward. A path had been cleared to the market, but little else. The town hadn’t yet started to rebuild. She wondered when they would.

  Her legs weakened as they entered the square itself. Lei and Yang moved with purpose, traveling around the square and examining clues Bai couldn’t even guess at. She couldn’t bring herself to move. This place held hundreds of memories for her, but still, it didn’t have the one memory she wanted more than any other.

  Eventually, Lei came to her. “Anything?”

  She shook her head.

  Lei considered something for a moment, then asked, “You said you woke up here, with no memory?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “Could you show me exactly where you woke up?”

  Bai thought the question strange, but it was enough to get her moving. She walked toward the space where she remembered waking up. Those first few moments after waking were still so clear in her mind. Why couldn’t she remember the rest?

  She neared the area and checked to make sure she was right. Confident, she pointed. “I woke up here.” Her voice came out hoarse.

  Lei sighed. His shoulders slumped, and when he looked at her, she almost couldn’t take his pity.

  “What?” she asked.

  In response, he pointed at the ground beneath her feet. She looked at it, not understanding what he was trying to show her.

  “Look at the grass. See how there is a patch undisturbed here, and how once you get a few feet away, the ground has been cleared?”

  Bai looked slowly around, a creeping dread settling in her stomach. She saw what he meant. The place she had pointed out looked unremarkable. But it was surrounded by ground that had been stripped of grass and more. Now that he mentioned it, she remembered waking up, the grass poking at her like sharp needles.

  “This was the epicenter of the blast,” Lei said, his voice soft and damning.

  And she had woken up right in the center of it.

  Her imagination quickly came up with other scenarios. She had been placed there after. She had crawled there before passing out.

  But she knew, deep in her bones, there was only one explanation.

  She collapsed to her knees, a soundless scream tearing through her throat.

  One thought stood above all others.

  She had killed her mother.

  Bai lost track of time and her surroundings. They remained in the square for a while longer, but Bai had the answer she was looking for. Eventually, Lei pulled her to her feet and led her away.

  She followed, like a dog after its master. Her mind was empty. Whenever a thought attempted to plant itself, the memory of her mother’s arm, sticking out of the rubble, washed the thought away.

  After they were well out of town, Lei guided Bai to an outcropping of rocks they could sit on. Yang walked a little further up the trail and took his rest apart from them.

  Lei didn’t offer words of consolation. Words were too shallow. Bai believed he understood. He simply sat next to her, his presence all the comfort he offered.

  Bai felt the dagger in her pocket and pulled it out, removing it from the thin sheath that protected it. The blade looked sharp and somehow bright, even though there was no light for it to reflect.

  She brought the dagger close to her eyes, studying it. She’d carried small knives before, but never as a weapon.

  This dagger left no room for doubt as to its purpose. Its edge was razor sharp, and it was too large for any household task. This was steel meant for killing.

  Bai imagined drawing the blade across her throat. She didn’t know much about violence, and wasn’t exactly sure how to kill herself. But the throat should do. She would just have to make sure she cut deep enough.

  Perhaps Lei would do it for her. He certainly kn
ew how to kill. Though he’d never said as much, she was as certain of that as she was that she had killed her own mother.

  She couldn’t allow her life, or her death, to weigh down any more people, though. She was guilty, which meant this was her responsibility.

  For a long time she stared at the blade, feeling her life balanced on its edge.

  To her side, Lei sat, unmoving. She knew if she made the decision, he wouldn’t try to stop her. She’d never felt more grateful for another person in her life.

  When Lei spoke, it was softly, so as not to startle her. “When I was a very young man, I killed a girl.”

  The line snapped Bai out of her reverie. She looked over at him.

  “I had been discovered by the monasteries. While there, I discovered I was unique. I can use weapons to focus my strength. It’s a dangerous skill, and the technique is forbidden. I wasn’t much for rules, though, and eventually I used it in a sparring match. A young girl from a nearby village was watching, and she died.”

  Lei paused. “I should have been executed, but my brother was also training to become a monk. He saved my life.”

  Lei stopped, and for a minute, Bai thought he was done. But then she saw the way his eyes watered.

  “My brother saved me in more ways than one. But that’s a different story. It took me years to recover. I started drinking. Eventually, my brother managed to convince me to change, saving my life again.

  “I’m not sure of many things in this life, Bai, but I do know this: no matter what, we should always keep pushing forward.”

  He took a deep breath, now finished.

  Bai could sense the depth of emotion behind those words, terse sentences masking a bottomless well of emotion. She considered his words.

  “Why go on?” Bai asked. “I destroyed my home. I killed people, including my mother.”

  “You did, and I can’t give you your purpose. That’s a question only you can answer. But you can’t change anything once you’re dead.”

  Bai stared at the dagger. She felt herself slip out of time. She saw the wisdom in Lei’s words, even if she didn’t believe them. Ending it all would be easiest. Lei might disagree, but he would let her make her own choice.

  She studied Lei, wondering if the answer lay in him. His peace radiated off him, calming her even as she considered the most dramatic action she’d ever taken. And that peace had come from a turbulent past. Could she someday be like him?

  Lei was a man capable of great violence and tremendous strength. She couldn’t even imagine what man stood calmly against the monks. Suddenly, something about Lei seemed incongruous, like a weed among a beautifully cultivated garden. “Why are you hiding?” she asked.

  “I’m not,” he replied. “The monasteries know who I am and where I live. I live in the mountains beyond the reach of the empire because I want to be free, and there is no freedom for me within the empire. Those who have come to live with me are usually the same. Hien is wanted for no less than a dozen crimes that carry the penalty of death.”

  Bai wondered at that. Hien had never been anything but kind to her.

  She understood so little. Giving up would be easier, but it would disappoint both Lei and Hien. As she thought of them, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t disappoint them.

  She was sheathing the dagger before she even realized she had made the decision. She stood up, her gaze fixed on Lei as he remained sitting on the rock. He met her gaze evenly.

  “I won’t take my life, on one condition.”

  Lei gave her an inscrutable little grin. “And that is?”

  “You train me.”

  Lei almost responded, but Bai held up her hand.

  “I want you to train me so I can make sure that I never use that power again.”

  20

  Delun looked down at his cup, staring at the beer within.

  He hated beer.

  In the monasteries, the only beverages consumed were water and tea. If one’s entire philosophy revolved around becoming as strong as possible, alcohol had little place in daily life. When he was younger, Delun had been curious, but whenever he took a sip, he was reminded of how disgusting beer was. It was bitter, foamy, and left a sour taste in his mouth.

  He didn’t understand why anyone enjoyed it.

  He suspected if he voiced his complaints to the man sitting across from him, though, he would only receive a blank stare.

  The man was a trader. Given the quality of clothes he wore and the healthy belly he possessed, Delun assumed that trade had been bustling lately. Despite the tension across the empire, the land was relatively peaceful. Traders like this one, who had enough money to hire escorts of mercenaries, would rarely be attacked by bandits on the road.

  To hear him tell it, though, the world was a very different place.

  The man was deep into his cups. He’d joined Delun at his table without an invite, probably because Delun was the only other patron of the inn. Delun considered leaving, but the man had launched right into the problems of the day. Delun’s interest had been piqued. As a consequence, he sat here, sipping on his beer while the man rambled on. For several minutes now all he had spoken of was how dangerous the roads had become.

  “It all comes back to the monasteries, doesn’t it?” he asked, the question clearly rhetorical.

  Without even a pause, he continued. “It was a brilliant idea when it was conceived. The monasteries would help keep order. No one with half a mind would challenge their authority. Towns could raise militias or city watches if they chose, and lords raised their armies, but the monks were always the backbone.

  “But no one asked what would happen if the monks shirked their duties. Nobody likes to admit it, but right now, we need the monasteries. Even with all their problems, their very threat keeps trouble at bay. But I’m not sure for how much longer.”

  The drunk trader was an interesting man, Delun decided. His tone made it clear he despised the monasteries, yet he saw their value all the same. Such balanced thought seemed rare these days.

  He didn’t seem like a man with the connections Delun was looking for, but better to leave no stone unturned. “You don’t think we need to get rid of the monasteries?”

  For a moment, Delun worried the man wasn’t as drunk as he appeared. His eyes grew sharp, but the focus quickly disappeared. The man waved the idea dismissively away.

  “No. Perhaps someday, but people born with the gift need someplace to train, and the empire isn’t ready to assume the monasteries’ responsibilities. I do think that something needs to change, though. It feels to me the empire is a tree branch. The branch is bending, and I worry that it will soon break. The monasteries are like children on the branch, jumping up and down while the rest of us are trying to stay balanced.”

  Delun smiled at the image. From the trader’s own grin, Delun guessed he’d drawn the same comparison at other inns before. He had the look of a man proud of himself.

  “Kulat is a perfect example,” the man continued. “Out here, near the edges of the empire, the monasteries are even more important. Lord Xun is what, a fortnight away at best? The monastery here should be a beacon of justice. Instead, the monks have turned to more and more violent means. It can’t last.”

  “Do you think the people will turn on them?”

  The trader shrugged. “All I know is that once my wagons are loaded, I’m going to leave Kulat as quickly as possible, and I don’t plan on coming back anytime soon. If you’re wise, I’d suggest you do the same.”

  Delun ignored his frustration. He’d been trying to find someone connected with the Golden Leaf for days now, but his inquiries had yielded nothing. By now, he should have turned up something. The Golden Leaf couldn’t be this hard to find, especially after the attack they had organized against the monastery.

  Delun had certainly learned enough. Most of the attackers had been townspeople. A few spoke of friends being hired as archers, and he had even managed to track down one of the young men w
ho had fired a bow at Delun’s brothers. The young man didn’t know enough, though. He’d met a hooded figure in a dark tavern and had asked no questions. Delun burned with the desire to exact vengeance for his brothers, but his cover was too important.

  He knew the Golden Leaf approached people. They didn’t allow themselves to be found. He was becoming increasingly certain the actual Golden Leaf wasn’t more than a handful of people at most. That small handful had set the powder—no one knew about that.

  Before Delun could ask more questions of the trader, the door to the common room burst open. An older boy came in, his eyes wide with terror.

  “You need to get out of here, now! The monks are marching!”

  Delun and the trader cursed in unison. Delun had wondered how Guanyu would react to the ambush. The abbot would never let the attack go unpunished.

  But Delun didn’t think marching into the city was the right idea. It portended a storm from which there would be no shelter.

  By the time Delun got to his feet, the trader had already gulped down his beer and run out of the room. Delun couldn’t help but notice the trader hadn’t paid his bill.

  He left enough money for them both on the table and stepped outside. The loud chaos of the streets was disorienting after the quiet of the inn’s common room. People shouted to one another and ran in every direction. After a few seconds of being out in the street, Delun realized he still had no idea what was happening. He wasn’t even entirely sure which direction the monks were coming from.

  Delun took a deep breath. The panic of the people was infectious. The urge to run infused his muscles, but he fought the impulse. Running would do no good, not until he knew exactly what was happening. A small crate sat near the entrance to the inn. Delun stood on it, looking down both directions of the street.

  The inn he had chosen sat on the main street that ran through the town. It wasn’t quite in the city center, but close. He saw, off in the distance, in the direction of the monastery, a cluster of white-robed individuals. Now that he was focused, he felt their power, too.