Path of Possession

by Harmon Cooper

  “Then…” the mother nodded, choking back a sob.

  “You will probably start to notice more and more instances of her exhibiting who she used to be,” Lhandon explained. “I suspect this will happen more once she has learned to speak, which will probably come at an age earlier than her peers. You have caught me in a sort of transitional phase, one in which I’m trying to see to a few things around the world, as funny as that may sound, and also re-codify the Path of the Divine. I will be in touch in the future, and I will give you updates on the construction of the monastery.”

  “He said a temple too…” I told Lhandon.

  “The temple will come later,” Lhandon said before returning his attention to the parents. “Once I’m back in Lhasa, I will send money your way. Anticipate that I will also send a monk to live here in the city, to help look after her. But these are all details that we can sort out later. For now, just take good care of her, and know that Tsetsen was already a special child, but now she has a destiny to fulfill, which in the end is all we can truly ask for.”

  Chapter Nineteen: Floating Guard Skull

  We returned to the brewery, just about the time that Lhandon’s rune to mask my appearance started to fade away.

  We found Saruul in the kitchen helping Amraa prepare brunch, the lioness looking cute in her apron as she followed Amraa’s instructions. Roger was perched on the slot that allowed the kitchen to slip food to the other side of the room, where it would be delivered from the bar.

  “Any luck?” Roger asked me.

  “She’s the reincarnation,” Lhandon asked, surmising what the bird was inquiring about.

  “Wait, did you say she?”

  “I’ll explain later,” I told Roger.

  “Yes, you will, and aside from that, this calls for a celebration! Saruul, do you think you can whip up a cake? Maybe something with a tart icing, if it wouldn’t trouble you.”

  “A bird cake?” she asked. “I’ve never tried to bake a bird into a cake before, but I’m sure it would work. It’ll probably be good with tart icing too.”

  “What?” Amraa asked, giving her a horrified look.

  “Just dealing with the bird.”

  “I think she’s hungry,” Roger said once he landed on my shoulder. “She’s been threatening to eat me alive this morning.”

  “My patience is growing thin, Roger,” Saruul reminded him. “Ever since you woke me up…”

  “I had a nightmare,” he started to say. “I wasn’t trying to wake you up… I… I can’t be held responsible for what I do in my sleep!”

  Buka ran into the kitchen. The girl held a doll that looked as if it had been made from a burlap sack, one of its eyes missing. “Welcome home!”

  “Thanks,” I said, grinning as she burst back out of the kitchen.

  “To have that much energy,” Lhandon said once she was gone. “It reminds me of when I was a young monk. It might not seem like it, but I sure was spry.”

  “It won’t be long now,” Amraa informed us, “and then you can set off on your journey. I have briefed Saruul here on the best way for you to take.” His smile started to crack. “I do hope you are aware of what you’re getting into, though. The demon that protects the only bridge crossing between the two mountains is, for lack of a better term, a real ornery bastard. I don’t know how many people have died trying to kill it…” He transferred some partially burned potatoes from the skillet into a blue ceramic bowl. “Anyway, there’s always the option of climbing.”

  “We will see to the demon,” Lhandon assured him. “It won’t be the first demon we’ve dealt with, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

  Buka and her mother joined us for brunch, her mother silent as always.

  As we ate, Amraa told us a story about a young boy from Zol who wanted to be Emperor of the island. I thought that the story was going to end with the boy actually becoming Emperor, but it ended with the boy eventually being killed in one of the Moon Tournaments by having his skull split in two by an ax.

  There was a meaning to the story, but I couldn’t tell if the meaning was to not overstep one’s bounds, or not enter tournaments in which the punishment is having one’s head split in two by an ax.

  We finished eating and helped clean up.

  It wasn’t long before we set off, Lhandon’s bag now filled with spare robes and other provisions for our journey.

  Following the instructions provided to Saruul by Amraa, we took a path that followed the stream outside Zol, the jungle concealing us from the main road. This meant that Lhandon didn’t need to use his rune to disguise my features, all of us a bit relaxed as we walked.

  “A nun,” Saruul said after Lhandon had explained in detail what we had experienced earlier, and how the Exonerated One had reincarnated into the body of a girl named Tsetsen. “I think that’s a very good thing. Lhasa already has a nunnery or two, right?”

  “I believe there is one, in the Forbidden City of Trongsa,” Lhandon said, “but nunneries have traditionally found it harder to secure funding than male-run monasteries and temples.”

  “Would you call whatever the new Exonerated One opens a nunnery?” I asked. “Or would it be a monastery, or a temple?”

  “Yeah,” Roger chimed in. “I’ve been wondering about that too.”

  The bird had eaten too much for brunch, and had decided to hang out on my shoulder for the time being, letting his food digest.

  “A monastery,” Lhandon said as he rolled up his sleeves, drops of sweat sliding down his forehead.

  “And what’s the difference, exactly, between a monastery and a temple?” I asked, something I had been wondering for a while now.

  “A temple pays homage to an enlightened teacher. It is only at the request of a teacher to a student that a temple can be opened. This was why…” Lhandon took a deep breath in, nodding with humble satisfaction. “This was why I was so surprised and delighted when the Exonerated One asked me to open a temple rather than a monastery. It is the highest form of respect.”

  “So is it higher up on the totem pole than a monastery?”

  “Totem pole?” Saruul asked as we started to transition to the jungle. As always, the trees were painted, this time with two blue stripes around their trunks, monkeys and birds moving through the branches above.

  “I guess what I’m asking is which one is higher in terms of a pecking order.”

  “A pecking order?” Roger snorted. “I don’t know if I should be offended, or too satiated to give a damn.”

  “Believe it or not, a temple is higher than a monastery,” Lhandon explained. “A temple not only honors the previous master, but also shows that they were confident enough in their teachings and in one of their pupils to expand their reach. This is precisely why temples have grandiose names, and monasteries go by the name of whoever is the current head monk there. Take the Monastery of the Exonerated One, as an example. The one I will eventually open in Bamda would be his first temple.”

  The terrain started to change over the next two hours, going from jungle to foothills. There were points that we walked through that made me imagine what it would be like to walk through an English garden, the rocks like sculptures, some of them over ten feet tall with vines draping over them, huge snapdragons and hanging lilacs interspersed between their ranks perfuming the air.

  The temperature started to change a little as well.

  No longer was it hot and humid, a cool breeze reminding me every now and then that we were heading back into the mountains, making me lament the fact that we hadn’t packed our warmer robes.

  Lhandon mentioned this little detail at some point, saying it was an oversight on his part, Saruul arguing that it was Amraa who should have warned us. Forgiving as ever, Lhandon took the blame and refused to even entertain a conversation that questioned the guidance or benevolence of our hosts.

  Another thirty minutes or so and the jungle was now below us, the city of Zol in the distance and partially hidden by a milky haze.


  I could see jagged mountains as well, some of them pressing through the clouds, their peaks hidden. Others were angled and sharp, carved out by glaciers, their summits sparkling white in the afternoon sun.

  We came to a sign that had been carved into a rock, faded blue paint making the script more visible.

  “What’s it say?” I asked.

  “It’s a warning,” Lhandon explained after he’d read it. “‘Anyone who travels past this point travels at their own risk.’ I suppose city officials erected the sign to prevent any unnecessary encounters with the demon that lays ahead.”

  “So we should get ready?” Saruul asked.

  “We should, and that means you should be ready to conjure Bah-Mo and use your Flaming Thunderbolt of Wisdom,” he told me. “Perhaps I will be of assistance as well. Saruul, your focus will be mainly defensive, helping one of us if we look like we’re about to come into harm’s way,” the monk said.

  “And me?” Roger asked.

  Lhandon continued, either ignoring Roger or not intuiting what he was asking. “There are innumerable demons and spirits across the five kingdoms, and some of them don’t live up to their reputations. I suppose what I’m trying to say here is the people of Zol may have blown the severity and power of this demon or spirit out of proportion. Then again, I could be wrong. We shall soon see.”

  It took us about twenty minutes to come across another warning, this one carved more hurriedly than the last.

  “I don’t like this,” Roger said.

  “We’ll be okay,” I assured him as I drew my Flaming Thunderbolt, a white sliver of energy moving toward the tip and back down to the hilt.

  We continued onward, Lhandon behind me, and Saruul and Roger behind him. It was eerily quiet now; no wind, the air a bit thin. I could still smell the flowers that we’d passed earlier, but their scent was beginning to waver.

  We came around another bend to find a final sign, a last warning about the demon that lay ahead.

  “Just be ready,” I said as we came to a rope bridge separating our mountain pass from the one across from it. It was a long bridge, at least forty yards from end to end.

  “Do you see anything?” Lhandon asked me.

  “I don’t,” I said, my weapon still at the ready.

  “Let me take a look.” Roger lifted into the air and cautiously flew toward the bridge, scanning the area and then dropping even lower to check to make sure all the rungs were in place.

  “It looks fine to me,” he said once he returned. “Though it never ends well when someone says it like that,” he quipped.

  “Touché,” I told him, and before he could ask me what that word meant, I took a step toward the bridge, my weapon still drawn.

  I waited for any signs of movement, signs of anything, really, and once nothing made itself known, I moved closer to the center of the bridge.

  My hand still on my blade, I placed the other on the rope railing for added support.

  “Here we go,” I said to myself, trying not to gauge just how far the drop was. I felt a gushing feeling in my stomach, which I quickly settled with a deep breath in.

  “Please, be careful, Nick,” I heard Saruul call to me.

  I nodded and took a step forward, onto the first rung. It felt stable enough, so I continued onward, still gripping my sword tightly.

  A wind whipped up, causing the bridge to tremble.

  For a moment I thought that I was about to be attacked by a wind spirit, but then it subsided, the bridge stable again. Trembling slightly, but stable.

  I glanced back to see Lhandon about to step onto the bridge.

  I nodded to him, and just as I was turning around again, a giant skull with fiery wings where its ears should be took shape in the center of the bridge.

  The skull was practically the size of a hot air balloon, its dark eyeholes glaring down at me.

  The adrenaline surged and I let go of the railing.

  I traced Bah-Mo, the semi-translucent monkey warrior appearing before me.

  He glared up at the fire winged skull, and sprang forward, stepping even higher into the air and spiraling toward his opponent as he prepared to deliver his first blow. His two blades connected with the skull’s forehead, the skull completely absorbing the attack, a fiery tendril swiping Bah-Mo out of the air.

  “Nick, come back!” I heard Lhandon shout from the other side of the bridge.

  “Nick! Nick!” Saruul and Roger shouted.

  And even though I shouldn’t have, I glanced over my shoulder to see Lhandon holding her back, the lioness about to transform and run out on the bridge to rescue me.

  Calming my nerves, I tried to focus on how I would deliver a blow to the enormous floating skull.

  It was too high up in the air for me to jump and hit it, and while I sometimes had the ability to defy gravity, it wasn’t something I could simply trigger.

  I started to charge forward, assuming that the skull would come down to meet me while Bah-Mo continued to swat at it, his attacks practically bouncing off the monster.

  The skull swatted Bah-Mo away with its fire wings; it tilted its forehead toward me, charging, snapping its teeth as it did so.

  I skidded to a halt, nearly going over the side before starting to backpedal.

  I reached the end of the bridge and the skull swooped back into the air, doubling back around, where it was met by Bah-Mo, who continued to pummel it even though none of his hits seemed to do any damage.

  “I don’t know…” I said, indicating to Lhandon that I wasn’t sure of how we would take this thing down. It took me a second to catch my breath; even if I knew it was useless, or at least it felt that way, I felt the urge to go back out onto the bridge, to attempt it again.

  “Wait,” Lhandon said firmly, his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s see what happens.”

  We watched the monkey warrior continue to fight it until my rune started to fade away. Once Bah-Mo was gone, the skull returned to the center of the bridge and hovered just above it, daring us to try to use the bridge.

  “That was…” Roger shivered. “Great, a floating guard skull. Every time I feel like I’ve seen everything I could possibly see on this goddamn journey, something new decides to pop up. Well, shit. It wouldn’t be very hard to get across if we could all fly. I mean, I could cross right now if I wanted to.”

  “But we can’t fly,” Saruul said as she cautiously watched the skull, her arms crossed over her chest. “Maybe we don’t have to climb up the other side; maybe there’s a path somewhere and we just have to find it.”

  “Perhaps,” Lhandon said, “but that could take us ages to find.”

  I glanced at the giant skull and took a step back onto the bridge.

  “Nick…” Saruul said.

  “Just let me test something.”

  The fiery skull let me take a few steps before it began charging my direction. As soon as I stepped off the bridge, it stopped.

  “What about…” Roger’s eyes went wide and excited look on his face. “Okay, I’ve got an idea. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” Saruul asked.

  “Just hear me out…”

  “This is seriously insane,” Saruul said as she continued to pace back and forth, Lhandon getting into position.

  “We tested it,” Lhandon reminded her, “and it worked.” He undid his ponytail, tightened it, and retied it. “I have faith that it will work again.”

  We had tested Roger’s idea a couple times now, both Lhandon and Saruul taking practice runs.

  It was an unstable and unusual way to travel, but with a little luck, it would get us to the other side.

  The flaming skull was a quarter mile away by this point, and we were pretty sure it didn’t leave its bridge, giving us plenty of time to work with Roger’s suggestion.

  “It’s not very far,” Lhandon whispered to himself. The monk looked to the other side of the gorge, focusing on the mountain pass he was hoping to land on. “I can do this. Nick, it’s now or never.”<
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  “Are you sure you’re ready?” I asked him as I lifted the Cooling Fan of Broken Whispers.

  “It’s time…” Lhandon said as he took a step back, preparing to leap over the gorge. His backpack was off now, and lying on the ground next to a flat stone.

  I started waving the fan slowly as we had practiced, Lhandon’s robes fluttering in the wind.

  He stretched for a moment, took two deep breaths in, and then charged toward the ledge. His feet left the ground, and I batted the fan in the air with as much strength as I could possibly muster.

  It blew Lhandon six or seven feet up in the air, giving me a second to step forward and use the fan a few more times, the wind propelling Lhandon forward.

  I reached the edge and Saruul grabbed me, stopping me from slipping off the ledge myself.

  “Thanks,” I said as I brought the fan back again, swinging it forward, a huge gust of wind finally sending Lhandon to the other side.

  The portly monk hit the ground, bounced once, and let out a miserable moan.

  Roger raced to the other mountain pass and returned. “He has definitely broken a leg,” he said, flapping his wings in the air. “But other than that, he’s happy. Wincing, and clearly in pain, but happy nonetheless.”

  “I can heal him…”

  “Definitely,” the bird said quickly. “Lioness, you’re up next.”

  Saruul paced back and forth for a moment, shaking her head as she did so.

  “I would go next,” I reminded her, “but I kind of have to be here to send you forward.”

  “Maybe if I morph,” she suggested.

  Saruul stopped in front of me, placing her hand on my cheek.

  “You can do this,” I told her softly.

  “I trust you.”

  “I got Lhandon to the other side, and I damn sure will get you there as well,” I promised her, not wanting to comment on the monk’s weight. “Lion or human, you’re going to be lighter than him.”

  “Is she lighter than him in her lion form?” Roger asked. “I know, I know, you aren’t supposed to ask a woman her weight, but this is for scientific purposes here.”