Path of Possession

by Harmon Cooper

  “And you befriended a bird?”

  “And not just any bird,” Roger quipped. “The smartest bird you’ve ever met, kid.”

  Migmar smiled. “A funny bird, too.”

  “He understands me,” Roger said, instinctively trying to slip under my robe.

  “Behave,” I whispered to him.

  “Why have you come here?” the older monk asked.

  “Our ship was attacked by pirates, and later a sea dragon,” I explained. “We were separated from a friend of ours, a monk named Lhandon the Exalted One, and we were hoping that you would be able to send a seagull to the other cities to see if he has arrived there.”

  “Certainly,” the boy said, nodding to the taller and older monk next to them. “Please send a seagull with a message for… what was his name again?”

  “Lhandon the Exalted One,” I repeated.

  “Yes, please send a message for Lhandon the Exalted One to the main monasteries of the island.”

  “As you wish, Golden Jewel. I will also ask them to send word to the other temples.” The monk quickly stepped away. He reached the sliding front entrance to the monastery, where he was greeted by another monk.

  The older monk returned, and once he did, Migmar spoke again. “That is quite the weapon you have,” he said, his eyes narrowing on the hilt of my sword. The boy licked his lips. “May I see it?”

  “What does he mean by that exactly?” Roger whispered to me. “Does he want to touch the sword, or just see you spin it around?”

  “I don’t know,” I said out of the corner of my mouth.

  I began to unsheathe the weapon, and as I did the boy’s eyes lit up. “Marvelous! Marvelous!” he said as he clapped his hands.

  “Please, do not return it to its scabbard,” the older monk said, hunger in his eyes.

  “Um…”

  “These guys are going to try to steal that fire sword,” Roger whispered to me. “You can tell by the way they’re looking at it.”

  “Anyway,” I said, sheathing the blade and ignoring the older monk’s request. “That’s what it looks like.”

  “I asked you…”

  Migmar waived the older monk’s concern away. “I will handle this,” he told him firmly. “Does your weapon have a name?”

  “Its name is You-Can’t-Have-It,” Roger said under his breath.

  “Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom,” I said.

  “Marvelous! I would like to touch it, if you don’t mind.”

  “It will burn you,” I told the boy, not certain as to where this was going.

  “No, not the blade, the hilt. Do you mind if I touch it?” Migmar asked as he came forward, now standing directly in front of me.

  “I…”

  I looked to Saruul and saw that she had brought her arms up slightly, ready to engage if need be.

  “Sure,” I finally told him.

  The boy monk placed his hand on the hilt of my weapon and gasped. “It’s so powerful,” he said, his lip quivering. He started to fall backward and as he did the older monk caught him and dragged him a few paces away from us.

  “Are you all right, Golden Jewel? Speak to me!”

  “So powerful…” Migmar said as he licked his lips.

  “What in the actual fuck is going on here?” Roger whispered.

  “Quiet,” Saruul said, still trying to better understand the situation.

  “You must let me touch it again,” the young monk said, his shoulders trembling. “Not now; in the morning. It is too much for now.”

  “All right,” I said, figuring I might as well ask. “Since I am unfamiliar with the Path of Possession, which I’m assuming you practice here based not only on the look of the monastery but the jewelry that you wear, please explain to me, to us, what it is you are doing.”

  “Ah! Our apologies,” the older monk said as he helped the boy stand. He dusted off the boy’s robes, his jewelry clinking together as he did so. “He’s absorbing. Migmar the Golden Jewel is the leader of this monastery, the reincarnation of Chodron Chogyal the Diamond Absorber. The Golden Jewel is incredibly sensitive when it comes to these kinds of relics, able to physically feel and absorb their power. It is why he is our leader. We all hope to someday be as strong as him.”

  “And you will be,” the boy said, regaining his composure. “I’m sorry, it’s just that sword is so strong. Never have I…” He shook his head.

  “It is getting late,” the older monk said, taking over the conversation. “We have already eaten, but there is still food available, if you would like to have something.”

  “Now we’re talking,” Roger said, patting his belly.

  “That would be nice of you, thanks,” I told him.

  “I will have some of the monks prepare a room for you. The three of you don’t mind sharing a room, do you? We can provide separate quarters as well, if the lioness would prefer that.”

  “No, a single room is fine,” Saruul said.

  The older monk nodded. “Good, we will meet again for breakfast; I will be able to answer any questions you have at that time. The seagulls will be flying out over the next hour. I expect it to take one or two days to get word from the other monasteries. I have but one request.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Please allow the Golden Jewel to touch the sword again in the morning,” he said, bowing graciously.

  The young boy nodded excitedly. “And in the evening as well.”

  “Sure,” I told him, trying to mask any hesitation in my voice.

  I didn’t like the way they were looking at my weapon.

  Chapter Five: Crypt Keepers

  “No funny stuff while I’m awake,” Roger said.

  The bird was sprawled out on a floor covered with dried fronds from a palm tree. We had eaten, and the seafood soup turned out to be quite delicious. Having already been poisoned by seafood once, I was extra careful this time around, allowing Saruul to sniff it and for Roger to voluntarily taste it, the tropical bird claiming he was more than ready to take one for the team.

  But it turned out to be okay in the end, none of us sick or passing out only to awaken in a dungeon.

  “I thought you were sleeping outside,” Saruul said in a teasing way. “There are other birds out there, you know.”

  “And monkeys. Hell, I saw a couple monkeys on the roof of the monastery. They’re everywhere. Those things carry diseases, just so you know. Also, there are always birds outside. If you haven’t figured it out already, we’re sort of an invasive species, but don’t tell anyone I told you that. There’s a lot of heated debate about that topic in the bird community.”

  “I’m sure there is,” the lioness said as she arranged a futon on the floor. She lowered down onto it and rolled to one side, making space for me.

  “Besides, I feel like you two could use a chaperone. We don’t want a little half-tiger half-manchild-from-Massachusetts running around in Lhasa.”

  “Tiger?” Saruul said, her shoulders tensing.

  “Shit, I meant lioness. Don’t eat me. Nick, tell her not to eat me.”

  “Go to sleep, Roger,” I told the bird as I laid down next to Saruul. “And try not to eat him, honey.”

  Even though it wasn’t exactly comfortable, I placed my Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom under the futon, between Saruul and me. Anyone trying to steal it would have a hell of a time doing so.

  “So much walking today,” Saruul said, her voice growing softer. “And the temperature. I may start shedding.”

  “Ha!”

  “Last warning, Roger,” she hissed over to him.

  I waited for a response from Roger, and when one didn’t come, I looked over to see him fake sleeping, one eye open and watching me. He winked; I couldn’t help but grin at him.

  “Goodnight, Nick,” Saruul said, coming in for a kiss.

  Our lips met and I felt a spark between us.

  Since becoming stowaways, we really hadn’t had the opportunity to be intimate. I knew we’d have a
chance at some point, or at least I hoped we would, but I could definitely feel the tension between us in that moment.

  I turned away from her.

  Maybe it was a good thing Roger was in the room to chaperone us.

  I smiled at this thought, wishing I could share it with my bird friend.

  As I started to drift off to sleep, I began replaying what I’d seen in the forest.

  Had Hugo really ordered dissidents tied to trees to be eaten, their heads caged? I would need to ask the child monk about it, or at least his attendant. It wasn’t long before I was out cold, not waking until morning came.

  It felt like I hadn’t even slept, that I’d simply closed my eyes and opened them, a soft glow to the room now that the sun was rising. Roger was already up, hopping around.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him, trying to suppress a yawn.

  “What’s it look like?”

  “Exercising?”

  “Hell no,” Roger said, stretching his wings. “And don’t you dare accuse me of doing something like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Nick, have you ever seen a bird once they land on the ground?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s too early,” Saruul said, yawning. She turned away from me, her tail grazing against my leg.

  “Birds hop around when they’re on the ground. I don’t know why. It’s not like I can’t walk,” Roger said, strutting, “it’s just ingrained in my nature. At least that’s what it feels like.”

  “So you’re hopping around because birds hop around?”

  “You’re catching on!”

  Once we were up, and my sword was sheathed to my belt, the three of us made our way to the dining area of the monastery, a room with golden accents in all the corners and famous pictures of saints hanging from the walls. I saw one with green skin, briefly reminding me of the story of Milarepa that Lhandon had told me, the monk who had survived on nettles for an extended period of time.

  We found Migmar the Golden Jewel seated at the table with his attendant, more food in front of the two than I’d ever seen in a monastery. There were a variety of colorful fruits, from what looked like mini-bananas to prickly plums and flour-based snacks, biscuits to flatbread to rolls covered in sugary nuts. There was a half ham in the center of the table, the dish surrounded by sliced lemons, oranges, mussels, tiny sausages, and large shrimp.

  “Welcome!” the boy monk’s attendant said. “And please, enjoy yourselves.”

  He stood up and bowed, motioning us toward our seats. Saruul nodded then sat; I did the same, figuring it would be best to follow her lead.

  “You will let me touch it after breakfast, won’t you?” Migmar asked.

  Roger snorted. “I’m sorry,” he said, pretending to choke on something.

  “Um, yes,” I told the young leader, still apprehensive about how forthright he was. He had allowed us to stay in his monastery overnight and no one had tried to poison us yet…

  “Marvelous!” he said, clapping his hands together.

  “The Golden Jewel enjoys the energy he receives from these sorts of objects,” his attendant reminded me. He was the same older man from the previous night, thin with a shaved head and the trademark monk ponytail, his with a couple jewels woven into it. “In his previous life, the Golden Jewel here was the strongest practitioner of the Path of Possession in the entire Middle Plane. He would have never admitted this at the time, but it has been said since, and I personally had the pleasure of serving the previous incarnation.”

  “Good to know,” I said as Saruul went straight for the half ham. The lioness started cutting off slices for my plate, then hers, not waiting to eat. She also scooped some shrimp and mussels onto a plate for Roger, which he gladly enjoyed.

  Taking her lead, I did the same, filling my plate with a little bit of everything and eating politely as Migmar and his attendant watched us with smiles on their faces. Once he was finished eating, Roger flew to his normal perch on my shoulder. I could tell he wanted to whisper something to me, but we were too close for the boy monk not to pick up what he was saying.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” I said as I finished a bite of ham, “what do you know about Emperor Hugo?”

  The smile on the attendant’s face practically fell off into his lap, where it subsequently seeped to the floor and was dusted under the rug. “Why… why do you ask? Are you here from his administration?”

  “What? No,” I said, waving his concern away. “I’ve already told you how we arrived here. Further, and I meant to mention this last night, we’ve been asked by a friend to visit her family’s crypt, so if you’d point us in the direction of the city’s graves after we eat, that would be very helpful.”

  “But I want to touch the sword,” Migmar said, his nose curling.

  “You will,” I told him. “But back to my original question: what do you know about Emperor Hugo?”

  “He is a wonderful leader,” the attendant said, clearing his throat. “Brave and bold; clearly capable of running the Island Kingdom. He is also very powerful! Some say he is completely indestructible.”

  “Indestructible?”

  He nodded. “He is an outsider who simply showed up on our shores. He fought his way through the Moon Tournament and bested Emperor Minkoko, who hadn’t lost the tournament in twenty years! And what we have heard, and what we believe as we do not question our sources, is that Emperor Hugo has only grown stronger since taking his role.”

  “What about the people tied to trees?” I asked, blunt enough that I heard Saruul make a noise with her throat.

  “That’s how to do it,” Roger whispered. “Give ‘em hell!”

  “That is what happens when you disobey the crown,” Migmar’s attendant said firmly. The boy monk glanced between Roger and me, a bored look on his face.

  “We saw quite a few bodies on the way over here.”

  He nodded. “And I’m afraid you will see more. You may even become one if you continue this line of questioning.”

  “Come again?” I asked, lowering my hand to the hilt of my Flaming Thunderbolt. Migmar licked his lips, ready for me to brandish my weapon.

  “Is that a threat?” Saruul asked.

  “No, of course not! It is merely the truth,” the older monk assured us. “Any dissent is being met with instant punishment. This is not at our hands, heavens no! This is at the hands of the government. I’m merely telling you to be careful what you say and who you say it to. You are protected here at the monastery, for now, as the Golden Jewel’s guest, but as soon as you step outside our walls, there is absolutely nothing we can do. So consider it a warning.”

  “Duly noted,” I said, placing my hand back on the table.

  “Now, to change topics, yes, we aren’t far from Anand’s crypts, and I can certainly point you in the right direction,” the attendant told me, a thin smile returning to his face. “That is, after you allow the Golden One to see the Flaming Thunderbolt again…”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “Also, we should start hearing from the other monasteries sometime tonight or tomorrow morning. Hopefully, we will have word on Lhandon the Exalted One by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I don’t like it,” Roger chirped after we were a block or two away from the monastery. We were coming up to a garden on our left decorated with dozens of blooming lilies, their petals blue with strips of yellow running through them.

  Saruul took a deep breath in. “It’s fine, he only touched the sword.”

  “Yeah, but the holy kid wants it. I can see that shit in his eyes.” Roger lifted off my shoulder and flew to the top of one of the palms in the garden. A blackbird with grapefruit-colored tail feathers squawked as it zipped away, clearly offended by Roger’s actions.

  “Leave the birds alone,” Saruul said as we came to a narrow lane, the sides of the streets lined with sand-colored homes decorated with trellises covered in vines and lilies similar to the ones I’d seen in the public garden.
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  “Oh, come on,” Roger said as he rejoined us. “That bird had it coming.”

  “Why?”

  “He was spying on us.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sort of a peeping bird. You guys didn’t see what he was doing up there in his little hideout.” Roger swooped in front of me, made a jacking off gesture, and returned to his flight.

  “Impressive,” I told him as Saruul shook her head.

  “The perv bird or the fact that I can fly with one wing while making that gesture?”

  “Neither,” Saruul said, crossing her eyes at Roger.

  We started down a hill, the sparkling ocean visible on the horizon.

  The day was starting to warm up, a humidity setting in that made me wish I had a different set of robes. Luckily, it wasn’t a very long walk until we reached the cemetery with all the crypts, at least according to Migmar’s attendant who still hadn’t given us his name.

  It was a solemn affair, as most cemeteries are, with gravestones at the front and statues and crypts at the back. The ground was covered in so many flowers that it was difficult to find a path to walk on, but we eventually found the steps, Saruul leading the way to the back of the cemetery.

  “Aren’t you glad we didn’t come last night?” Roger asked.

  “I’ve seen scarier cemeteries,” I told him as we circled around a statue of a woman bowing her head, two children at her feet. “You should see what they have in New England.”

  “You mean Massachusetts?”

  “Yeah, and the rest of New England.”

  “You lost me there,” Roger said as he dropped to my shoulder.

  “It should be up here,” Saruul said as we came to a row of crypts, some more elaborate than the others. I couldn’t read the names on any of them, but I recognized a few of the characters carved into the stone. A few had fresh wreaths of flowers laid over them. One had a candle on a corner of its stone base, wax pooling over the side, dried out flower petals stuck in the wax.

  “I don’t remember Nyima saying which crypt it was,” Roger said. “If she did, I wasn’t listening.”