The Mark (Chi Warriors Book 1)

by Ino Lee

  “Yes. Activity has recently fallen and the Great Wall has been secured. Jaguan is regrouping with a portion of the forces and headed your way. He does not know of your exact location yet.”

  Han whispered aside to Tae. “Jaguan is Shoukoo, active head monk at the temple. He is with the Shaolin warriors.”

  “Activity has suddenly fallen?” Li reiterated.

  “Yes,” Tienkow replied. “We think the breach of the northern wall was meant to draw our forces away from the mark, not to invade. Now that the mark is on the move, their strategy may have changed.”

  “I was afraid there would be no help at all, but I am not sure what to make of this news yet. An audience with Jaguan is desirable.”

  “I figured as such. One moment.” Tienkow lifted a hand to the side and spoke. “Jaguan, are you there? The temple summons you.”

  Moments later, the image of Jaguan appeared, though smaller and with less clarity.

  A bold voice answered. “Yes grandmaster, I am here.”

  Han whispered again to Tae. “He speaks to Tienkow through the Monk Staff of Shaolin, which has a gemstone attached to it filled with the mystic water. That is why his picture is small and blurred. There is no pool.”

  Tienkow responded. “Li and Wong are here through Yaje Piau. They are with the marked one.”

  “Brothers! At Yaje Piau? With the marked one? It is a great relief to hear.”

  “Where are you?” Li asked.

  “I am just beyond Hanai, on horseback as we speak. I will head to you now.”

  “We can’t risk waiting for you. There was a Koon Gee army in the forests north of Guilin that may reach us before then, and Yaje Piau is not equipped to handle it.”

  Jaguan sounded concerned. “This was a well devised plan by the Koon Gee, Li.”

  “Yes. They have been in this from the beginning and are always a step ahead. They tried to take the mark by stealth, which would have succeeded if not for Wong. Now they plot to take him by force while we are dispersed.”

  “Know that the lo-shur have not been seen as of late. They may have abandoned their assault on the wall to concentrate on the mark. I fear they are headed your way.”

  “There is little we can do now except to reach each other.”

  “How shall we meet then?”

  “On the plains of Tibi,” Wong said. “It’s in between us, and the flatlands will make it easy to spot one another. Aim for the border of the mountains. That should be close enough for you to sense the Shaolin Sword with your staff.”

  “A fair plan,” Jaguan said. “If we cut across the plains and travel hard, we should be able to meet you by the third morning. What say you, Li? Grandmaster?”

  “Yes. Meet at the plains,” Li said.

  “Then it shall be done.”

  “And I will await you at the temple,” Tienkow said.

  “I must make preparations now. Does the grandmaster or Shoukui desire further counsel?”

  “No—fly Jaguan,” Tienkow said.

  “Safe journeys then. I shall find you on the Tibi border.”

  “Farewell,” Li said.

  The Shoukoo’s image disappeared.

  Tienkow focused back on them. “I trust you understand the gravity of the times, my Shaolin sons.”

  “Yes, grandmaster,” Li replied.

  “Then safe journey and remember your training. I shall see you at the temple, alive and well.”

  His eyes lingered on Wong, with his thoughts on the prophecy.

  “Goodbye,” Wong said.

  Tienkow’s head bowed and his image disappeared. The mystic pool became lifeless again as their own reflections returned.

  Ripples in the water appeared when Kai plunged in his hand again.

  After their meeting with Shaolin, they left the room and went their separate ways. Kai complained about the smell left by the green paste used to treat his mark, so Tae brought him to the washroom to see if it could be helped. Han went to check up on Zhozang and Genji, who were still organizing Yaje Piau’s security details. He also decided to stop by the kitchen to investigate what could be done for a meal. Li, Woo, and Zu-Jhi walked off together discussing matters of the temple.

  Wong was about to follow them out of the chamber, but then held back, preferring to be left alone. He watched them slip out the doorway, hoping his absence would go unnoticed. When several more moments passed and no one called out his name, he found himself relieved.

  Acting jovial and carefree in the face of the prophecy was taxing. If he could steal a moment away where he didn’t have to hide his worry, he was happy for it. His impending death weighed heavily on his mind, especially after seeing Tienkow since he was the one who made the prophecy in the first place.

  He sat by the pool to meditate and clear his mind, but his thoughts came at him in a flood of emotions. He thought back to the time he was first marked and hunted by the Koon Gee. Though he was older than Kai, he remembered being scared, and while he was able to defend himself to a degree, Kai was helpless. At least Kai had his protection from the very beginning—a luxury he never had.

  Once anointed the future destroyer of the Koon Gee, he recalled the pressures of having to live up to everyone’s expectations. He always had to train harder and become better than anyone before him. And while he relished the training, he never really felt like he belonged. Perhaps that’s why he left the temple so quickly after finding out that the prophecy was not meant for him. Would Kai fare better? Or would he too have difficulty fitting in and embracing the teachings of the temple? Would he feel the need to leave as he once did?

  He looked around and felt odd sitting in a temple again, meditating by the mystic water. He wished he could be there for Kai throughout the entire ordeal, but understood he might not make it that far. The best he could do was make sure Kai lived long enough to figure it out for himself.

  The water appeared luminescent at its deepest point. He stared at it. Why me?

  Tae appeared in the entrance behind him. “Wong? Are you all right?”

  He did not respond.

  “We’re going out for food. Han doesn’t like anything here and wants to try that Szechuan place.”

  “No thanks—go ahead without me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Not in the mood for spicy food.”

  She pulled away from the entrance, a concerned look on her face. After thinking a moment longer, she turned back and popped her head in again.

  “Are you just going to sit there and sulk for the rest of the night?”

  “It’s not sulking. At the temple, the monks call it meditating and being spiritually even.”

  “In Shunnan, I’m pretty sure it would be considered sulking. Guilin, too.”

  “I need to prepare for the journey ahead. Focus my chi. I’m not sure going out and eating Szechuan is the best thing for me right now.”

  “You are beginning to sound like your brother. I think you should come, or you’ll turn into a monk.”

  Even though his head was turned away from her, she thought she could detect a smile.

  “It’ll help take your mind off things if you come with us. It’ll be better for you. Really it will.”

  “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

  “No. Plus I need someone to shield me from Zhozang. So you better come.”

  Wong half-sighed and half-smiled, then sat up and walked to the doorway. He put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Rock Lily.”

  “Don’t give up,” she chirped.

  He followed them to the outdoor bistro but didn’t eat much. Being in the company of friends did help put his mind at ease, but he found it difficult to partake in conversation outside of serious talk of their journey to the temple. Most of the time he sat without making eye contact, staring off t
o the side and listening to the sound of their voices. Ironically, it turned out to be a beautiful night spent outdoors, at a chic restaurant with family and friends, under clear skies, the moon, and the stars. He found their company soothing and wished instead that he stayed behind.

  Morning came, and with it, a cold and dreary embrace. Fog clung to the mountaintops and penetrated the forests, dampening the air and choking out the sun.

  Wong lay motionless in bed, unable to muster the will to get up. Two straight days in a comfortable bed, and he had gone soft. He could have easily slept the day away. The others were already awake as sounds of movement in the hallway could be heard.

  He let out a great sigh. He could not lose focus, if even for a brief moment. He could not let the company of his friends make him feel secure and complacent. This was his responsibility; it began with him and would end with him. He rose from bed and gathered his things together as he had done so often before.

  Hot porridge awaited him downstairs.

  “Morning,” he said in a low voice.

  An equally unenthusiastic response followed. Tae, Kai, and Zhozang sat together while sipping from hot bowls. Li spoke with Elder Woo off to the side. Han and Genji sat at another table examining weapons while packing new rations.

  Wong joined the table where breakfast was served. Tae pushed over a bowl of porridge, which Wong accepted with a smile.

  “We should go soon,” Li said.

  Wong nodded and slurped down a mouthful of the thick rice soup.

  “How many days do you think it will be before we reach the temple?” Zhozang asked. “About six days if we can find horses on the way,” Li responded.

  “That’s an awful long time to be out there,” Tae said.

  “If we are fortunate enough, Shaolin’s forces shall pave the way—”

  “We can make it without them,” Han proclaimed, raising his newly polished war mace and admiring it. “I have this.”

  Genji slapped the table. “Well said!”

  “Aye,” Zhozang added. “Now that’s the type of talk I like to hear before forging into battle.” He held up his war cleaver. “Death to the Koon Gee.”

  The mood of the room instantly changed.

  Han stood and waved his weapon back. “Yes. Death to the Koon Gee!”

  “Death to the Koon Gee!” Genji joined in, pumping his fist.

  Li grinned at their confidence, glad for the change of pace after the solemn start to their morning.

  Tae, however, was not as agreeable. “There will be no barbarism at the breakfast table.”

  Zhozang shook his head. “Sorry my lady, but many Koon Gee will die today.”

  “Aye!” Han said.

  “Aye!” Zhozang echoed.

  Kai held his spoon high. “Aiyee!”

  Tae smiled and couldn’t decide if she should be flattered at being called my lady. At least it was different than being called Rock Lily.

  She noted Wong’s silence. “No manly declarations from the Iron Man-Dragon?”

  He made a face. “I think I burnt my tongue on porridge.”

  She laughed.

  Genji began to stow away a table full of throwing knives he had been meticulously cleaning and polishing that morning. He tucked them, one at a time, into two knife belts worn across his torso like suspenders.

  Zhozang watched in bewilderment. “I would not think it possible, but you may have more knives on you than Wong.”

  Genji laughed and looked in Wong’s direction. “More knives than the Weapons Master, eh? That would make me the Knife Master.”

  “No,” Wong replied, before taking another spoonful of his porridge. “You do not have more knives on you than me.”

  Genji laughed again, but stopped uncomfortably when Han stared at him narrowly.

  “He’s not kidding.”

  Genji couldn’t tell if Han was joking, so he looked back at Wong who just winked in return.

  “All right,” Li said. “What is needed is less merriment and more sincerity for departure.”

  Almost immediately, Genji quipped, “You better get moving then, Wong. It’ll take you forever to pack all your knives.”

  “Hahaha,” Wong laughed. He looked over at Han and triumphantly mouthed, “Wisecracker.”

  Li wondered if they would ever leave.

  When they finally did pack their gear, they left the temple and proceeded west toward the river, taking a path directly toward the canyon. Thick fog still clung to the mountains, making it difficult to see in the distance.

  They almost didn’t notice the mountain ledge until it was right underneath them. Approaching carefully, they looked out into the expanse. A great distance below them at the base of the mountain splashed the waters of the Yangtzhu River.

  “Too bad the fog is so thick,” Zhozang said. “On a clear day, the view is a thing of beauty.”

  The air transport appeared to the right of them. Two great strands of Yaje silk stretched out across the river and disappeared into the fog. Anchored deep into the bedrock of the cliffs on either side, they connected the mountain cities of Yaje Piau and Yaje Zhi.

  In the middle of the main suspension cables ran a third, unlike the other two. It was thinner and in constant motion, pulling the carriages from one side to the other. This strand, called the towing strand, was actually a loop of Yaje silk connected to a set of giant spinning cogs. They were spun by the power of the river, harnessed by waterwheels at the base of the mountain and distributed up the mountainside by a complex set of gears and chains. The river turned the waterwheels, which in turn spun the cogs, which in turn spun the towing strand. It was a delicate, but ingenious setup.

  The upper half of the towing strand spun toward Yaje Zhi, while the lower half spun toward Yaje Piau. Attached to the strands were two clamp boxes operated by a lever on the carriages. In the neutral position, both clamp boxes were loose, allowing the towing cable to flow freely through them. When the lever was shifted forward, the upper clamp box tightened, pulling the carriage in the direction of Yaje Zhi. When shifted in the opposite direction, the lower clamp tightened, pulling the carriage toward Yaji Piau. In this manner, an operator could control which direction the carriage moved. Several carriages could travel in the same direction at the same time, but collide if traveling in opposite directions.

  “There,” Li said, pointing. “The transport platform.”

  A wooden platform on the side of the mountain served as a base for the transport. As they walked over, Kai marveled at the interaction of the spinning cogs and gears.

  “Whoa. Look at the gears spinning,” he said.

  A bamboo carriage could be seen hovering inches above the ground; it hung by cables at each of its four corners to the main suspension cables above. Rollers allowed the carriage to easily slide across the thick Yaje silk strands when set in motion, but the giant lever that controlled it was currently pointed up in the loosened position.

  “There’s our ride,” Genji said.

  They carefully stepped onto the wooden carriage, which wobbled when they boarded it.

  Tae looked at the platform and the support strands with concern and then out into the misty expanse ahead.

  “Will this hold us?”

  “It should,” Wong said. “I’ve been on it with Han before.”

  Han glowered, unsure if it was meant as a verbal jab.

  “Bamboo. Very strong,” Elder Woo said, tapping the platform with a walking stick.

  Satisfied, he turned to address the party.

  “I shall wish you all the best of fortunes on this most perilous journey. Take care and heed what I have said. The Koon Gee may be close—closer than you think. Perhaps in Yaje Zhi as we speak.”

  Li bowed. “We will, elder. We’re ready. Thank you for your hospitality. Thank you for your help.”

 
“I have one last thing to offer. Three vials of sacred water, drawn from the deepest part of the pool in Shaolin. It will help you on your journey.”

  He held up the vials, which came with ropes that could be worn around the neck. Since Li already carried one, Woo offered it to the former students of the temple: Wong, Han, and Genji.

  They accepted the gifts and thanked him gratefully.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Woo offered again.

  “No, not this time, elder. Be safe,” Li said.

  “Farewell, little one,” he said to Kai.

  At this, Han moved the carriage lever forward and the upper clamp box tightened. A chain connecting the center of the carriage grew taught, and the carriage began to pull away from the mountain.

  The elder looked at each member of the party in turn as if to say a final farewell. Though they had only stayed at the temple for a night, he felt like they had been there much longer. He couldn’t help feeling that he should be in the carriage with them, but he was old now, and his presence would have only hampered them.

  “Do you think they’ll make it?” Zu-Jhi said.

  “They’ll be fine,” Elder Woo responded. “They travel in good company.”

  Soon the carriage pulled away into the mist until it disappeared from view. The elder looked on and wondered if he would ever see them again.

  22

  “THIS IS AMAZING,” Tae said as they floated high above the river.

  Yaje Piau disappeared behind them as a cloud of mist moved in to shroud their view. Below, a hazy outline of the river could be seen.

  “We’re flying,” Kai remarked.

  Indeed, it appeared as if they were flying. Presently, their carriage moved through a low-lying cloud, causing white moisture to envelope them; it was not the thick and fluffy variety Kai had often imagined flying through while daydreaming by the river in Dailan, but one of a thin and wispy nature. Still, the feeling was surreal and he darted around the carriage from side to side with great excitement, constantly peering over the edges.

  He stretched an arm out and waved, testing the feel of the cloud against his fingertips. Occasional gusts of slow- moving air brushed past his face and the repeated squeal of the carriage’s rollers lulled his senses into an alternate state of reality.