Path of Possession

by Harmon Cooper

  Lhandon returned an hour or so later, Saruul and I waking up from a nap once he entered the room.

  The monk paced back and forth as he tensed his fists, an enormous frown on his face. He turned to me and I saw that the side of his face was red.

  “What happened?”

  “Come on, guys, I was trying to sleep,” Roger said, who was sprawled out on the bed next to us, his wings wide.

  “Those…” Lhandon swallowed hard. “Not only did they trick me, but they also attacked me!”

  “They?” Saruul asked as she sat up.

  “The monks at the monastery here. They were kind to me at first, but then they turned ruthless rather quickly. I explained to them that I merely wanted to see the book, and they even showed it to me, if you can imagine that! Then one of them came around while I was just about to look at it and punched me in the side of the face.”

  “A monk punched you?” Roger asked, turning his head toward Lhandon. He rolled over and hopped up, the bird popping out his chest feathers. “Because if that’s the case, you show me where those dirty bastards are. Nick, give me my fucking knife. I will handle this.”

  “Before we go around stabbing monks, let me better understand what happened here. So they actually brought the book out to show you, right?”

  “They gave me tea and everything,” Lhandon said, answering my question. “I hope it wasn’t poisoned!”

  He patted his belly for a moment, trying to judge if he was going to be sick or not.

  “You’d probably know by now if it was poisoned,” Saruul told him. “Get back to the part where the monk struck you.”

  “Yes, I was just about to look at the book when this monk with a scar on his face came out of nowhere, and punched me in the side of the face.”

  “A scar-faced monk?” Roger clucked.

  “I fell to the ground and then they started kicking at me. The only reason I got away was because…” He lifted his hand, an icy cold spark of energy spiraling around. “They didn’t like that.”

  “Do you think they’re looking for you?” I asked, nodding to the door.

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “Bully monks, eh?” Roger asked. “Oh please, please be a reality. Nick, my knife. Saruul, you know what to do.”

  “What?” she asked him, raising an eyebrow at the small bird.

  “Morph into a lion and let me ride you into battle. Let’s do this,” he said, walking back and forth on the bed now, his chest still puffed out.

  “You got Roger excited,” I translated to Lhandon.

  “No, we can’t do anything. We just have to let them be like that.”

  “And leave your book behind? No. Nick, tell Lhandon to point me in the direction of the monastery,” Roger said. “I will take care of this.”

  “You will?” I asked him, the bird clearly upset with how Lhandon had been treated.

  “What’s he saying?”

  “He wants you to point him in the direction of the monastery. He said he’s going to go ‘take care of things.’”

  “Ask him what the book looks like,” Roger instructed me. “Time is of the essence here, people!”

  “Take care of things? That’s not how…” Lhandon considered this for a moment. “I suppose the book may still be out. And all the windows were open…”

  “See?” Roger asked, cackling at Saruul. “This guy gets me. I’ll come into an open window, and pluck the book off whatever it’s resting on. Then poof, I’m gone. They will never know. I mean, they will probably suspect it has something to do with the monk that they assaulted earlier, but who’s gonna believe a tropical bird flew in and took a book? I know I wouldn’t believe that shit.”

  “Wait, are you suggesting stealing the book?” I asked Lhandon. “Because that’s totally not like you.”

  “I’m not suggesting stealing it,” he said, his cheeks turning red. “I would like to borrow it and copy some of the passages. Once I’m done doing that, I would most certainly return it.”

  “So temporarily stealing it.” Saruul bit her lip, considering what Lhandon suggested. “I suppose I could help out in this endeavor.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Can anyone else morph into a snow lion? I’m sure that will catch someone’s attention.”

  “Is Roger even large enough to carry the book?” I asked Lhandon, still in disbelief at what they were suggesting.

  “It isn’t a very large book, but it is thick. A black leather cover, and last I saw, it was open right there on the dais. Of course, they could have closed it by now, but some of the monks were resting in the main prayer room, looking like they had eaten a large lunch. Maybe they are still resting, and the monk that attacked me hasn’t put the book away yet.”

  “Those are a lot of variables,” I pointed out.

  “But if we could get a copy of it… I’m sorry,” Lhandon said, bowing to each of us individually. “I don’t know what has come over me. But I did get to see a few of the pages before I was struck, and I believe the information may help us. There may be runes in the book as well.”

  “As long as we try to take it back, I don’t think we should worry about the karmic repercussions,” I said. “If anything, it won’t be you stealing it, it’ll be Roger.”

  “And I have plenty of karma to go around.” The bird assured us. “You guys might not know this about me, but I was big into volunteering in the bird community. Actually, volunteering was part of a course I had to take at the school I attended, so I got credit for it. But I digress. My point? I have plenty of karma to spare. And trust me, I love stealing things from assholes.”

  “He’s interested,” I translated for Lhandon. “But you didn’t say if you thought that he would be able to carry it or not.”

  “He wouldn’t, but Saruul would. Perhaps we need to do this in a different way. Rather than have Roger take the book, maybe he could distract the monks momentarily while Saruul entered as a lion and took the book.”

  “No, I want to be the one stealing the book,” Roger protested. “Remember the whole karma thing? What if Saruul distracts them, and then I dump the book into the bag, and then I fly the bag to the window and hand it off to one of you.”

  “Roger, it’s probably best if I take the book,” Saruul said.

  “And get it all slobbery? That’s not the way you treat a library book.”

  “It isn’t a library book,” I reminded the bird.

  “I don’t slobber,” Saruul added.

  “You know what I mean!”

  “Okay, what about this,” I said, telling them my idea.

  Once I finished, Lhandon nodded, turning to Roger, who begrudgingly accepted that it wasn’t a bad idea.

  We turned to Saruul, who merely shrugged. “If you three think it will work, I will help out in any way I can.”

  “That settles it, Lhandon, cast your rune and disguise my face,” I said, jutting my chin out at him.

  I envisioned Altan’s face, the former slave who was taking care of Bobby back in Dornod.

  “It’s striking,” Lhandon said, looking me over. “Your memory of him is quite good. You even got the holes where his piercings used to be!”

  “Thanks,” I said as I started to trace the rune that allowed me to heal.

  Lhandon stopped me. “I would say save the rune until after we do this, just in case.”

  “Right, just in case,” I said as I took one of our bags and emptied the contents onto the bed. I flung it over my shoulder, and headed to the door.

  “I’m getting cold feet now,” the monk said as we left the small cottage.

  We had been told by Amraa to leave as often as we liked, only that there would be a supper for us later in the brewery. As we walked around the brewery I waited for him to call out for us, or for Buka to run around and see us.

  But they were busy inside and no one said anything as we came to the front gate, the rest of Zol laid out before us. There were mountains off to my left with great icy peaks.
The city sloped downward to the right, toward an ocean miles and miles away, the sparkling blue water just barely visible.

  All the trees had purple flowers and leaves, a few of the birds also bars of purple running through their tail feathers, something Roger readily commented on. Most of the buildings here were made of stone and a sand-colored cement, the rocks arranged together like misshapen Legos that somehow fit, the doors of many of the homes made out of polished driftwood.

  It didn’t take us long to find the monastery with its golden pagodas. Lhandon merely stopped outside the walls, his back to the place.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  “Most definitely,” I told him as I stepped into the courtyard. I watched Roger take off to my left, Saruul moving off to the right.

  I came into the prayer room, my eyes falling upon the dais, where I saw a black leather book still open.

  Bingo.

  Several monks rested on the benches, and one with a scar down the side of his cheek came over to me, a mischievous look on his face.

  “I don’t recognize you,” he said, the man wearing a pair of large gold chains with jeweled monkey heads on them.

  “And you don’t need to,” I told him, through gritted teeth.

  Roger flew inside through an open window, immediately causing havoc as he knocked down candles and batted his wings against some of the resting monk’s faces.

  The monk who had approached me turned to Roger, and as he did I traced Ra-Mu, the rune Lhandon had recently taught me.

  Everything slowed while I sprinted toward the dais. Roger still moved in slow motion, the monks trying to stop him, one of them going for his cane to try to bat the bird out of the air.

  I grabbed the book and stuffed it into my bag.

  I quickly made it to the front door, where I put the bag in Saruul’s open arms, and then returned to my place next to the scar-faced monk.

  Time returned to its normal pace, Saruul taking off behind me.

  “That bird!” the scar-faced monk shouted, Roger zipping out a window.

  “Don’t you just hate the birds around here?” I asked.

  “I’ll deal with you later.” The man threw his hands up in the air and turned to yell at the monks who had stumbled over one another, one of them trapped in his own robes.

  “No, no you won’t,” I said as I quietly stepped out of the monastery.

  I met Lhandon and Saruul at the front gate, the lioness trying to keep from laughing.

  “Did you get it?” Roger asked as he landed on my shoulder.

  “You bet your ass I did,” I said as I patted my hand on the bag. “And I didn’t even have to cast Rune of Distortion, which was my backup plan.”

  “Whew,” Lhandon said, sweating heavily now. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Eighteen: Reincarnation

  The brewery had a cozy and comfortable interior, reminding me of a pub I once visited in Brattleboro, Vermont, that had a commanding view of the Connecticut River.

  There wasn’t a river here, but the seating was similar, little clusters of circular oak tables and chairs with threadbare cushions on them. The lighting was just enough to allow for someone to recognize a person, but not see the pockmarks on their face, or the desperation in their eyes.

  Buka’s mother, Sarnai, busied herself behind the bar, pouring up frothy mugs of chung. Meanwhile, Amraa prepared food in the back, a waitress occasionally checking on us and letting us know that our meals would be ready soon.

  “Take your time,” Roger told her, even though the waitress didn’t understand him.

  Saruul had poured a small amount of chung in a tiny saucer, Roger readily lapping it up. He seemed a bit wobbly now, occasionally hopping from foot to foot.

  For once, I was enjoying a beverage, Saruul too, only Lhandon declining a mug of chung.

  “So we set off tomorrow,” the portly monk said, a little distracted by the looks of his eyes.

  He had spent the rest of the afternoon poring over the book we had borrowed from the local monastery, promising to go over some of his revelations with us once he was finished. It was already difficult to get him to actually stop his studies to eat, and I hadn’t really expected him to drink with us anyway.

  “Going to get the treasure,” Roger said on the tail end of a hiccup. “Saruul, pour me up some more. I can handle it. I once drank three times my body weight!”

  “Why do I find that hard to believe?” the lioness asked as a trio of feather-haired women came into the brewery. They wore red capes, one with a staff and the other two with swords. The woman with the staff looked right at us and then glanced away.

  “What did Roger say?” Lhandon asked.

  “He’s excited about our journey tomorrow,” I translated.

  “It’s going to be difficult,” Lhandon said, “especially considering the path we must take to reach the location of the relic. And just to be clear: I plan to finish up my search for the Exonerated One tomorrow. It is of the utmost importance that we find the reincarnation before we leave, and if it goes long, we may have to stay another day. So I may be up early.”

  “Sure, first thing in the morning, but after that…”

  “After that, we’re going to get ourselves some treasure!” Roger said, interrupting me. He turned to Saruul, begging her to pour some more chung before switching to threats. “Don’t make me drink out of your mug!”

  “Just a little more, and that’s it,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “The last thing we need around here is a drunk bird.”

  “I already have the pearls,” Lhandon said, placing his hand into the front of his robes. “I picked them up before going to the monastery earlier.”

  He retrieved a small leather satchel, handing it to me. It felt like there were marbles inside, and when I opened it up, I found that the satchel was filled with black pearls.

  “How is this supposed to work again?” I asked him as I took one out, examining it, the dim lights of the bar barely reflecting off the black pearl’s smooth surface.

  “Since I lost the one that the Exonerated One had left in his ashes, which is something I’m still ashamed of,” Lhandon said, bowing his head to no one in particular, “I’m going to have to use these instead. If he really has rebirthed here, and I’m talking about a full rebirth, not just a partial spirit separation, then he will recognize that none of these pearls are his. It’s as simple as that.”

  “And how are you going to find him?” Roger asked, suddenly interested in what Lhandon was saying. “There must be like a thousand little fuckers running around the city!”

  The woman with the staff looked at us again. She quickly returned to her chung and the conversation she was having with her two companions.

  “He’s asking you how you’re going to find the kid,” I translated.

  “I’m supposed to meet with Sarnai in the morning. We’re going to have breakfast at a café across the city, and she’s going to take me to the family with the child who won’t cry after we’ve eaten.”

  I glanced back behind the bar to see Sarnai pouring a couple mugs of chung. She handed the mugs off to a waitress wearing a short skirt and matching top, who then brought the beverages to a table on the other side of the room.

  “I’m rather glad that we are waiting until tomorrow,” Lhandon said. “It will give me time to read more of Conversations with a Hellspawn tonight. I suppose I could sit at the bar and ask her questions, but breakfast will be nice. Breakfast is always nice.”

  Saruul poured a saucer of chung for Roger. He hopped over to it and began drinking it down.

  “Would you like company tomorrow?” I asked Lhandon.

  “Certainly, if you don’t mind getting up early.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sleeping in tomorrow morning,” Roger announced to the table, chung flying out of his beak. “Especially if we’re going to be heading to the mountains in search of some hidden treasure!”

  “Keep y
our voice down,” Saruul hissed.

  “What? No one understands what I’m saying anyway.”

  “I understand you,” I reminded him. “Saruul too.”

  “But you aren’t people, you’re family!” Roger fell to the side, laughing so hard he would have slipped off the table had Saruul not caught him.

  “Be careful.”

  “Sorry, lioness,” Roger said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

  “I’ve never seen an intoxicated bird before,” Lhandon said.

  “I can’t say that I have either.”

  Roger fell to his side again, staring at the saucer, occasionally asking Saruul to refill it.

  Our food came, and as she often did when we were prepared meals now, Saruul was the first to sniff it, making sure there wasn’t poison.

  “I don’t believe we have to worry about something like that here,” Lhandon said.

  “You can never be too sure,” she reminded him.

  The meals that Amraa had prepared for us consisted of a thick potato soup with shrimp in it, as well as a small slice of breaded mutton with a side of beans and potatoes. Saruul picked out all of her shrimp, giving them to me.

  “I’ll have a shrimp, thank-you-very-much,” Roger said as he pressed himself back to his feet.

  The lioness placed one in the saucer and he scarfed it down. From there he was back on his side, a happy smile on the bird’s face.

  “Remind me never to let him drink again,” I said under my breath so only Lhandon could hear me.

  The monk chuckled. “Sometimes it’s good to be off guard, and not have to worry about what others think. Let’s try not to judge him too much tonight.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything,” Saruul said as she lifted her mug to mine. We clinked them together, and both finished our drinks.

  The chung was a bit sour, almost like a fresh cider. It was also warm, which threw me off at first. As if the waitress had been watching us the entire time, she glided to our table immediately with two fresh mugs once ours were finished.

  “Thank you,” Saruul told her.

  “No need to refill after this,” I said, already feeling a bit lightheaded. “The stuff is strong.”