by Ino Lee
2
IN THE DAYS that followed, strange things started happening in the normally uneventful village. Farmers reported slaughtered and missing livestock. Villagers claimed they heard wild animals passing through their property after dark—cackles and howls that echoed from afar and stirred them from sleep. Before long, rumors ran rampant and the villagers started panicking. They walked down roads while constantly looking over their shoulders, especially at night when they imagined they were being hunted and followed. The entire village was terrified. A town meeting was to be held to address their concerns.
Late in the day, ringing could be heard in the town square. An old man stood at the base of the village bell tugging rhythmically on a rope, sending waves of sound scattering in every direction. The bell ringer was thin and bald, with a long white mustache and a goatee. Though his frame had shrunken with age, it was wiry tough and he moved with the energy of a man many years younger.
His name was Chi-Yun and he was the oldest and wisest member of the community. Through his efforts, the village school and town hall were established. He had seen much of the world and in his younger days fought as a soldier against the assaults of the Koon Gee. Often he would captivate children with stories of the various fiends and demons that roamed the land, of devilish lizard men and the walking dead, but also of the mighty warriors of Shaolin. If anyone in the village knew about the evil that threatened the village, it was Chi-Yun.
Within minutes, members of each family trickled down from their farms into the town square. They congregated around the public well. Although a mixture of fear and anxiety could be heard within the low murmur of voices, there was also a little excitement, as there often was at a gathering of the townspeople. As soon as key members of each family showed up, Chi-Yun ushered them into the village hall.
The main room was mostly empty, with clean wood-planked floors, bamboo walls, and a thatched roof that sloped downwards on both sides. A smaller room was attached to it and used to store supplies. Large windows let in the fading afternoon sunlight, but soon, oil lanterns hanging on the walls would have to be lit.
The villagers entered and took seats atop floor mats strewn about in a circular fashion. Chi-Yun addressed them with the same tone of voice often used to lecture the school children.
“Now let me begin by explaining why I called this meeting, as many of you may have already guessed. For days now, there has been much strange activity. Some of you have heard noises at night. A few have found your livestock slaughtered. Just this morning, in fact, Seng found two of his pigs butchered.”
“Yeah,” Seng said. “They were torn apart. I do not know what kind of animal could have done this. I thought maybe a pack of wild dogs at first, but then I looked closer and saw that some of the cuts were clean. They were made by blade.”
“Blade!” Yi exclaimed from across the room. “Are you serious? By people, then? Thieves?”
“Maybe. But I do not think so. They were eaten right there and without fire. I do not know what kind of people would eat a pig raw.”
Nervous chatter filled the room. At this, Chi-Yun held his hand out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He spoke again more earnestly.
“There is more. Travelers from the north have brought news. There is much trouble throughout the land, not just in our village. In the past several days, dagwais and other beasts have been seen moving through the forests of the Jengzhi. Foul creatures!”
A collective gasp ensued. If the villagers were not afraid before, they were afraid now. Chatter filled the room even louder than before.
“Devil lizards? Here in the Jengzhi?” a villager cried.
“Beasts of that sort have not been seen in years,” another said. “What were they doing here?”
To these questions, the elder could only offer simple guesses. Years ago, he explained, the vile forces that plagued mankind tried to make an insurgence into the lands, but they were beaten back by the warriors of Shaolin to where they were now held in check by the Great Wall. Though a remnant could be still found in the north because of all the chaos caused by warring tribes, the Jengzhi was relatively safe. Why they had come down from their strongholds of evil, no one knew. Perhaps they were scouting for another attack. Perhaps they had run out of resources. Whatever the case, the elder said, it was not to be taken lightly. They must all be on high alert.
“So what are we to do now?” Yi asked.
Elder Chi stroked his beard and sat quietly for a moment.
Finally, he broke the silence and said, “A night patrol! We will arm ourselves at night. If there are any problems, signal for help by using the town bell. Report any incidents directly to me. We should organize immediately.”
“A night patrol?” exclaimed someone. “Has it come to that?”
Once again there was a low murmur of voices. Several of the smaller families expressed concern about the extra burden of having to take on night patrol while also tending to their farming activities. Others worried that they were not prepared to fight the kind of creatures mentioned, even if they did come across them. A few thought they were all overreacting.
After all opinions were voiced, they came to an agreement—the mere possibility of creatures such as dagwais roaming the woods was enough to warrant a patrol. Several of the braver members of the village immediately volunteered, including Seng, who wanted revenge for the slaughter of his pigs. Even the elder agreed to take on patrol since he was the most experienced fighter there. When enough volunteers were gathered, shifts were sorted out amongst them. Patrols would begin the following day.
As they finalized their plans, the villagers began to disperse and trickle away. Several stayed behind to discuss night duty since this was the village’s very first patrol. They conversed about patrol routes, where dagwais could be hiding, fighting styles, and the varieties of demons that existed and how they should be dealt with.
Ben and Mae approached Chi-Yun.
“Elder. May I have a word with you,” Ben said.
“Ah, Ben. Good to see you. Of course you may.”
“You said that we should report to you any incidents. I do not know if this means anything, but I would think this constitutes an incident.”
He turned the conversation over to Mae and asked her to describe what happened several days before. Carefully, she explained everything she remembered—the rotted fish, the sudden chill, and the black shadowy spirit that loomed above their heads. Chi-Yun listened patiently as Mae spoke, stroking his beard and nodding continuously until she had finished her tale.
A concerned look fell over his face. He asked Mae for details of what the thing looked like, how it moved, and what it sounded like. His eyes closed and his face contorted in concentration.
Hearing Mae’s tale, a couple other members of the village came over to listen too.
Chi-Yun, still in deep thought, mumbled to himself in a barely audible voice. “No, no. It can’t be. It doesn’t make sense.”
“What is it?” Ben asked.
“I’m not sure,” the elder said, “but I have heard of such a thing similarly described. You say that the house no longer feels the same, but distant and unwelcome?”
“Yes. And cold and unnatural,” Mae replied.
“Then we must go to your house now.”
Elder Chi, Ben, Mae, and Yi left the village hall, carrying a lantern since it was dark outside. They proceeded into the clearing and headed to the home of Chi-Yun. While their ultimate destination was Ben and Mae’s farm, the elder said he needed to stop home first to pick up a few items.
The elder’s house was isolated and tucked back in the woods. He lived alone in a house that had grown much too large for him, having outlived its other inhabitants. Tidy and well constructed, it consisted of five bedrooms and a stable. There was no farmland around it as he relied on the villagers for food, earning his living teachin
g at the school and managing the town’s affairs. He also had a little bit of savings to fall back on, which he accumulated during his younger years.
Chi-Yun scurried inside and soon returned with a small woven sack. They hurriedly left the house and proceeded to Ben and Mae’s farm, keeping a weary eye out along the way. The light of the oil lantern cast shadows on the roads and trees, sending shivers up Mae’s spine. She could only imagine what lurked out there and was perhaps watching them now.
A short while later, they arrived safely at their destination. Kai was playing at Yi’s house next door where some of his school friends lived. He often stayed there when his parents were out late.
Elder Chi walked into the main room where Mae said the spirit hovered.
“Let us see,” he said.
He looked around and paced back and forth before he opened his sack to uncover an assortment of items.
“What’s that for?” Yi asked.
“Nothing to worry about. Just a simple ritual.”
Ben wondered what that meant but did not ask, sensing that the old man was not receptive to questions. Mae, however, had no such reservations. “A ritual for what?”
“A ritual . . . of revealing.”
He pulled out a metal container with a large handle and filled it with twigs and dried leaves. Next, he set the contents on fire and tossed in a powdery blue substance.
“Put out your light, Ben.”
Ben snuffed out the oil lantern and the room turned pitch black, with the exception of the flame from the container. The rest of the party looked on intently, unsure of what was about to happen, but captivated nonetheless.
Chi-Yun pulled out a scroll with markings in blank ink written across it. He threw this into the fire and the flame flared up with a bluish hue. He held the container high in the air and cast the light around them.
Red marks.
Shock filled the room. The crowd gasped at what they saw and the elder closed his eyes in horror. Red claw marks appeared all around them—three red lines in parallel that glowed when touched by the elder’s light. They were all made by the horrific spirit, clawed across the walls and on the floors and tables.
“What . . . what is this?” Ben said nervously.
Chi-Yun fought for words, paused, and then slowly began to speak.
“I am familiar with some of the practices of the darker forces of this world. In the heart of the evil land of the Koon Gee, there dwell creatures called lo-shur. Not much is known about them except they are at the head of the demonic order and they are fierce.” He clenched his fist for extra emphasis on the word fierce. “Outside of their domain, however, they have no power and travel as mere shadows of themselves. This is the dark specter you have seen, Mae.”
Mae shrunk and moved closer to Ben.
“They have been known in battle to draw lesser minions to themselves by making spirit markings on things such as trees and caves. Once these markings have been made, all forms of evil are drawn to it, even at great distances. This is what you see now.”
The party gasped in horror. Mae started to cry. The markings that glowed around them were calling to all forms of evil and drawing them close—to the home of Ben and Mae, in the simple village of Dailan. They were all in terrible danger.
“They’re coming here?” Ben said.
“Yes. As we speak!”
“And this is why the dagwais have come?” Yi asked.
“It is.”
“But why would they do this?”
“I don’t know. This has not happened before . . . this should not be!”
Mae shook her head in disbelief. “What do we do now?”
“Take everything essential out of the house. We must burn it down.” He turned to Yi. “Gather the men now. We patrol tonight. Tomorrow morning we send word to Shaolin. These things are beyond me.”
“Burn it down?” Ben said. He dropped back into a chair, dumbfounded.
Mae stooped and took his hand. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll be fine. It’s just a house.” He tightened his grip.
“You must bury your worry and sorrow for now,” Chi-Yun urged. “We are in danger and there must be action. We must move quickly.”
Ben nodded. He looked up at the eerie demonic marks, which looked alive as they pulsated in the flickering light; it was if the spirit watched them now. He stood.
“Okay. Let’s do what must be done.”
They hastily began removing items from the house, wanting the marks destroyed as soon as possible. When Kai returned from their neighbors, he was told their home would have to be cleansed. They would stay with Yi until they could make new arrangements.
Although Kai did not fully understand what was happening, he remained quiet and did not question it. There was an uneasiness about the situation that made him understand they had no choice. He heard it in his mother’s voice and saw it in the frantic movement of the others. Although Ben and Mae wanted to shield him from worry, they did not realize how perceptive he was. Kai already knew they were in great danger.
They salvaged what they could out of the house and set it on fire. Chi-Yun said that burning the house alone would be enough to destroy the marks, but to make sure he placed special scrolls on the building before igniting it. He also burned incense throughout the night. Hopefully, with the marks destroyed, the Koon Gee would leave and the danger would pass.
Fire engulfed the house and its walls began to collapse.
In the cool night air, Kai could feel the warmth of the fire against his face. He thought about the time he watched a teaspoon of salt dissolve when drops of water were added; his home now disappeared in a similar fashion. Though it grieved him to see his home being destroyed, he was also relieved, as he had felt increasingly uncomfortable within it. Perhaps now they would be able to get on with their lives and move past the haunting.
“Goodbye, house,” Kai whispered.
Ben, Mae, and Kai watched silently as their home turned to ashes.
3
THE NIGHT OF the new moon fell upon the town square, highlighted by the villagers that had come to celebrate. Despite all that had happened, the Moon Festival would continue. Everyone’s nerves were on edge, and a celebration would give the people a chance to relax.
Elaborate preparations were made in anticipation of the big event. Round and white decorative lanterns hung overhead to mimic the moon. They were suspended on wires that stretched across the clearing and cast a cool white glow upon the earth, acting as lighting for ceremonial dances that were to take place that evening. Long torches were also stuck in the ground along the perimeter. Once lit, their warm light would contrast and mingle with the cool light of the moon lanterns.
Several large tables were brought out of the town hall and placed in a corner to hold refreshments. They were stocked with tea and an appetizing assortment of pastries. Moon cakes could be found in abundance, along with cinnamon and coconut buns that were loaded with taro paste and sweet beans.
Kai loved the time of year. He loved the tradition, the festivities, and especially the food. The day was an especially happy one for him because not only was it the Moon Festival, it was also his birthday. Most of the day was spent in celebration with his parents and friends. He received red envelopes full of money (the tradition on birthdays) and was given a variety of treats to munch on throughout the day. He ate moon cake after moon cake and didn’t even bother eating the whole pastry; he broke them open, went straight for the gooey centers, and discarded the rest. On any other day he would have been reprimanded for his wastefulness, but not today. When dinner arrived, the fanfare continued with a small feast of fish, crab, and prawns that were transformed into delicate soups, savory dumplings, and mouth-watering entrees. It was a satisfying day for Kai and could only get better with the festival ahead of him.
For at least
a brief moment, the excitement of the day made Kai forget about all that had happened. This was an especially difficult task because there were reminders of the danger everywhere: most of the adults now armed themselves with weapons, regular patrols could be seen surveying the area, and villagers constantly burned incense for protection against the spirits.
Even with the marks found and destroyed, Chi-Yun warned everyone to stay on guard. Shrieks could still be heard late at night and livestock continued to disappear. They still could not explain, after all, why the marks were put there in the first place. Was it the meaningless whim of a malevolent lo-shur demon or was there some greater purpose at hand? Chi-Yun feared the latter explanation, knowing that conjuring marks was not something lo-shur did whimsically. Never before had he heard of marks being placed so far outside the Koon Kagi and away from any battlefront. Dailan was just a simple farming village and had little significance in the order of things.
The peculiar scenario concerned him enough that he sent word to the Shaolin Temple. A rider to Sheyet was dispatched with a message asking for help. From there, the message would be bounced from town to town until it finally found a Shaolin monk, who could then relay it to the temple. If there was an explanation to the marks, the elders at the temple would find it.
Kai sat at the edge of the clearing, positioning himself for a good view of a ceremonial dance that was about to take place. His friend, Ping, sat next to him and the two gazed wide-eyed at the assembly of dancers that had gathered before them.
There were ten of them, dressed in lavish robes with their faces painted white like the moon. Ben and Mae were also there, although Kai found it hard to distinguish them from the rest of the performers. They carried out an intricate ceremonial dance in perfect unison while a small orchestra played music in the background. The crowd watched in delight, captivated not only by the individual actions of the entertainers, but by their crisp and fluid movement as a whole. Together, they moved in perfect harmony, much like a school of fish. They jumped, flipped, and flew across the stage in a series of acrobatic steps. Some of the dancers performed with large and beautiful silk fans, closing them during quick movements, and flashing them open for bursts of color. It was an amazing thing for Kai to see.
