Demon Hunters (Chi Warriors Book 2)

by Ino Lee

  “Knockout spores,” Jaguan said, coughing.

  He covered his mouth. They tried to run, but puffs of powder plumed everywhere. Jaguan dropped and lost consciousness. Wong crawled a bit further, but ended up at the feet of a magau. The last thing he saw was a staff coming down on him.

  17

  WONG SLOWLY REGAINED consciousness. His body ached and his head throbbed. He rocked back and forth upside-down, hanging from a pole with his hands and feet bound. He felt like a boar.

  “Jaguan,” Wong whispered.

  “Quiet,” a gorilla-man barked.

  A swift kick in the rear followed.

  It was dark now and though he had night vision, it was difficult to see from his vantage point. In front and in back walked the gorilla magaus, carrying the pole to which he was tied. Was one of them the same beast that slammed him into a tree? His ribs hurt whenever they rocked him unevenly.

  He could not feel the weight of his weapons, but at least they had left his god mask on. That was a mistake. If his head were clear, he would try to figure out where they were going, but his eyes drooped shut instead. Perhaps the knockout spores were still in his system. Perhaps his wounds were too great. He slipped back into darkness.

  Broken dreams and fragments of images haunted his sleep. He saw a dozen faces of unan—red devils, ogres, White Hairs, and more. A patchwork web of realities took hold and filled him with fire, the rage of a burning volcano.

  “Wong. Awaken. Wong.”

  He sat up against rock. His mask was gone and his hands and feet were surprisingly untied. A fire smoldered nearby.

  “How long has it been?”

  “It is almost daytime.”

  He looked up and saw twilight. A magau watched them nearby.

  “That was the longest sleep I’ve had in a while. I guess this means I’m not impervious to poisons.”

  “How do you feel?” Jaguan asked.

  He shifted. “Battered, bruised . . . but not broken.”

  “The magaus wish to speak with us.”

  “What do they want?”

  “I don’t know, but they do not appear hostile. For now.”

  “I noticed. I did not expect to wake up like this. There is only one guard.” He lowered his voice. “Perhaps we can escape.”

  “There are others nearby. I have spoken with them. If they were to harm us they would have already done so.”

  “Maybe they are waiting to decide. I guess we can’t leave anyway. We have no weapons and I don’t know where my masks went.”

  “They removed it last night. I told them to.”

  “Why?”

  “You were screaming.”

  He looked down. “Oh.”

  “Be alert. Someone approaches.”

  A familiar blue-faced magau appeared. “I am called Shiki. You must follow me.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Jaguan asked.

  “Just up this place. It is not far.”

  They curled around the steep ridge from which they slept, escorted by a few additional magaus. The hill was narrow and crooked. Giant bonzi and banyan trees took root in this section of the forest, with monkey folk hanging from the branches. In contrast to the previous day, the magaus appeared non-threatening, almost at peace. Jaguan was surprised to see a place of such beauty in the Koon Kagi. He caught the gaze of a wary magau and saw humanity.

  “What place is this?”

  “It is our place,” Shiki said.

  At the top, a tangled grove of trees and aboveground roots knotted the landscape. They carefully picked their way through to a group of lounging magaus. Their leader sat up at their arrival, seated on a mass of root that wove in and out of the ground and formed a chair. He was lean, but chiseled and tall for a magau.

  He stood. “Oh? Awaken now? Sit. Sit.”

  They sat on a similar section of root, possibly from the same tree. The leader circled and examined them uncomfortably.

  “Recovered from your slumber?”

  “More like unconsciousness,” Wong said.

  The magau laughed.

  “Yes, that is the effect of the mamu plant. Stumble on a field and sniff, so pretty, fall asleep forever.” He laughed again. “Then feed on your decomposing body. I can show you some if you like.”

  He perched on a high root.

  “Are we prisoners?” Wong said.

  “Prisoners? No. Guests? No.”

  Wong kind of liked him.

  “We mean no disrespect,” Jaguan said. “We are not here for conflict.”

  “No, but yet there is.”

  “We regret that. We only used force to defend ourselves We were not the aggressors.”

  “You run through our land. You run with the ninjas. You wear the face of Houzon. You attacked our monkey friend.”

  He pointed. A monkey sat above them on a branch. It mimicked a hypnotized face and barked at repeated intervals, then broke into angry monkey chitter.

  “He has a point there,” Wong said.

  “My apologies,” Jaguan said. “It was a necessary diversion. We were not running with the ninjas; we were fighting them, just like you. Your people were the first to use deadly force—we held back.”

  Wong postured. “If you really thought we were dangerous, then why are we unbound? Why are we here?”

  The magau sighed. “Ah. Yes. Togu and Tigli, my nephews. Troublesome lot. When we brought you to this place, they said you freed them from the devils’ nets. You save their life, they save yours. Even.”

  “Where does that leave us?” Jaguan said.

  “Let us begin again.” He stood, curled an arm, and bowed. “I am called Renshu, king of the monkey people.”

  A few hoots sounded nearby from unseen magaus. The monkey above them started clapping. Renshu gave it a look, then shooed it away.

  “This is so unexpected,” Wong said.

  Jaguan stood and bowed. “I am Jaguan, master monk of the Shaolin Temple.”

  Wong stood also. “I’m Wong.”

  “You’ve met Shiki, captain of the guards.”

  The blue face nodded.

  Renshu motioned to an older female magau who hadn’t moved since they got there. “This is Yimae, respected elder, and also my mama.” He cackled.

  Out of the shadows moved a massive silver-gray gorilla. Wong was surprised he hadn’t noticed him before.

  “I am the one called Domu.”

  Jaguan remembered knocking out the creature. He wondered if Wong recognized being tossed by the same.

  “You wear the Houzon mask,” Domu said. “How?”

  “I killed it and took its mask.”

  “You?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Violently.”

  The magaus gave each other a look.

  Yimae spoke. “We do not see often creatures of yin chi. To wear a mask seems strange.”

  “It is,” Jaguan said.

  “That’s a whole other story,” Wong added.

  “You appear as great warriors,” Shiki said. “I shall like to hear this whole other story. Houzon has caused us great pain. Why are you here?”

  Wong wondered how much he should tell them. Could they be trusted? He wanted to, but too much information was dangerous. They were creatures of the Koon Kagi after all . . . though they did fight the ninjas, and Renshu did introduce his mother.

  “Wait!” Renshu yelled and spread both hands.

  He jumped, grabbed a branch, and flipped to a lower root closer to them.

  “We must have refreshments now that you are guests and no longer prisoners.”

  He cupped his hands and howled for service.

  “I thought you said we weren’t prisoners,” Wong said.

  “Yes, in my defense you were not
yet guests.”

  Refreshments were brought in on woven baskets and trays. They gathered around more closely. The tangled roots provided many places to sit and dine.

  Wong and Jaguan hadn’t eaten the entire night and were starving. They weren’t sure what all of the items were and didn’t want to offend their hosts by asking. Jaguan was pleased enough since there were many varieties of fruit. Wong tried what he thought looked like roasted grubs on a skewer and washed it down with a brackish liquid served in a clay pot. It was minerally, yet subtly sweet.

  “Is the food to your liking?” Renshu said.

  Wong nodded and bit a grub off his skewer. “Nutty.”

  “Good. Now tell us this story of you and the mask.”

  Wong took another sip from his pot. “It started when I was young. I was marked by the lo-shur and ever since then I have meshed with their energies. Not long ago I was possessed by one, and my bond grew stronger than ever before.”

  “The lo-shur. Now that is a bad lot,” Renshu commented.

  Domu growled.

  “Why were you marked?” Yimae asked.

  “That is a whole other story.”

  “I love whole other stories,” Renshu said. “You can save it for supper. Continue.”

  “Five days ago, one hundred unan attacked our temple.”

  “A hundred unan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which temple? The Shaolin temple where Jaguan is master monk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it a temple beyond the Wall?”

  “Yes.”

  Renshu flicked a grub in the air and caught it in his mouth. “So that’s where the unan went. This is a great story.”

  “We pushed them back. We suffered much loss but managed to kill some. I found an undamaged mask and also found I could wear it. Days later, we crossed into the Koon Kagi and fought the unan you call Houzon. I found I could wear its mask too.”

  The magaus contemplated his story. Wong wondered what they were thinking.

  “One hundred,” Domu said. “So many at once.”

  “There are many Shaolin warriors,” Jaguan said.

  “We knew the warriors beyond the Wall were powerful,” Yimae said. “But why are you here?”

  “We were blind to their attack,” Wong said. “They caused great death, great destruction. We can’t let that happen again. We must seek them out.”

  “With just two?” Renshu said. “Why not all the warriors? What sense is this?”

  “Invading the Koon Kagi is no small matter,” Jaguan said. “Swamps. Parched lands. Dense forests. We would not fair well. Shaolin is weak and most of the warriors beyond the Wall want to stay on their side.”

  “But what can two expect to do?”

  Jaguan and Wong gave each other a look, unsure if they should reveal their plan.

  “Two can make new allies against the Koon Gee,” Wong said.

  Renshu contemplated it. “You are guests, yes. Allies? It is not such a simple thing.”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “Always looking down from your high walls,” Domu said. “We will not risk one conqueror for another.”

  “Men beyond the Wall have come before,” Shiki said. “Violent men. Who is to say mankind is better?”

  “We have problems within our kind,” Jaguan said. “I regret that. I cannot speak for all men, but I can speak for Shaolin. Perhaps an accord can be reached. Trust must be earned—that much is true.”

  “It is true, there is much history to overcome,” Yimae said. “It is not natural for creatures of yang and yin to be aligned.”

  “Fortunately I am no longer a creature of yin,” Wong said.

  Yimae smiled.

  “So tell us your story,” Wong said. “How did you come to fight the Koon Gee?”

  “They tried to subjugate us,” Renshu said. His voice seethed with anger. “We will not be ruled. Never. So the dark ninjas try to break us. They hunt us for sport. They roast our flesh and . . .”

  Renshu broke off, not needing to explain more.

  Wong was aghast. “That’s why they catch you in nets?”

  “They catch then release us, only to be hunted again. A cruel game. A few get away, but those that don’t . . .”

  Jaguan thought about the savageness in the way the magaus moved through the forest and chased them. He now understood why.

  “You have capable warriors,” the monk said. “How do you fare against them?”

  “If dark ninjas only, we would manage. But the unan, the lo-shur, they too participate. We are always on the run, always in the trees. They raid and scatter, fill their nets in the madness. If we stop too long, the army will uproot us. Not just a few. It is hard to thrive in this land.”

  They were quite for a while.

  Wong had a sudden revelation. “It’s not just for sport and cruelty that they hunt you.” They stared at him. “They’re training. Honing their skills.”

  “Training?” Domu said.

  “There is thick forest south of the Wall. Rangers guard from tree posts, but they are under constant attack from dark ninjas and unan. Our stronghold of Tanjin has recently fallen. It is an active battlefront and has been a thorn in our side for many years. I’ve always wondered how they had such skill in the trees. What better way to hone your skills than to hunt the best?”

  “It appears our problems are related,” Jaguan said.

  “So what do you suggest?” Renshu said.

  They thought for a moment.

  “You will never be safe in the Koon Kagi,” Wong said. “Never be able to fortify and defend. Perhaps we can find a safe haven.”

  “This is our home,” Yimae said. “We will not leave.”

  “Weapons, tactical forces then.”

  “Our weapons suit us well and we do not need lessons on tree tactics,” Domu said.

  “Domu is proud,” Yimae said. “Your offer is generous. The magaus do not ask for help, though perhaps something can be gained.”

  “What can be done for you?” Renshu asked. “You have not said your purpose in the Koon Kagi. Trust is earned together.”

  Wong and Jaguan looked at each other and nodded.

  “We are on a mission,” Jaguan said.

  “If you can help us get through the Koon Kagi, you will help deal the Koon Gee a critical blow,” Wong said.

  “What mission? Where are you going?”

  “We are going to breach the Temple of Masks. They will not expect us.”

  The magaus looked at each other wide-eyed, then burst out laughing. The monkey above them chittered.

  “You could not pass the magaus,” Renshu said. “How will you storm the temple?”

  “Not storm—infiltrate.”

  “Shaolin was not compromised because there were a hundred unan,” Jaguan added. “It was compromised because a single lo-shur made it past our defenses and tainted our chi pool.”

  “The Temple of Masks is surrounded by nasty swamplands. The unan will slink out of dark holes and kill you before you can see it. Black four-eyed crows are watching. It is impossible.”

  “What is your purpose there?” Shiki asked. “Will you also taint their pool?”

  “No. We seek to kill a demon of great significance. A lo-shur,” Jaguan said.

  “One lo-shur will help little,” Renshu said.

  “This one is different,” Wong said. “Any blow to the Koon Gee is a worthwhile one.”

  “Fool’s mission,” Domu said. “Not worth magau life.”

  The more he talked about it, the more Jaguan believed in their plan. “I was once doubtful too, but the unan are more vulnerable than ever. They’ve lost nearly half their force. They’re spread apart to guard against retaliation and won’t expect us at the temple. Now is the time
to strike.”

  “We’re not asking you to infiltrate the temple,” Wong said. “Just help us get there.”

  Renshu’s face contorted. “There is much to think on. Serious things. A decision will come.”

  “We can’t wait long,” Jaguan said.

  “Patience, Master Monk Jaguan. You must rest and be strong before the Temple of Masks. Eat a grub.”

  “I do not eat animals. I’m vegetarian.”

  “Ah, good, we won’t have to worry about your taste for magaus then. Pine nuts!”

  He stood and cupped his hands, howling into them again.

  He pointed at Wong. “Child of yang chi, for you there is replenishing mud. We will bring you.”

  Wong was confused, but curious.

  “Just what I’ve always wanted. Mud.”

  Two magaus suddenly dropped out of the trees, followed by three more that rushed into the cove. They pointed spears at Wong and Jaguan’s heads. They looked at Renshu for explanation.

  Renshu thought hard, then his face lit up. “Oops. My mistake. That was not the call for pine nuts. That was the emergency call to kill you.”

  He cackled hysterically.

  18

  TAE STEPPED ACROSS a narrow rope bridge with sleek wooden planks, Yaje silk suspension cables, and braided rope supports. It was a sturdy construction representative of the fine craftsmanship of the samurai. She was anxious, not because the bridge floated hundreds of feet above the ground, but because she was about to receive her first samurai lesson. An invitation was extended from Youta and Naruki as a follow up to receiving her sword after dinner at the Shogun’s home the previous night. Since it was late and Naruki called it necessary instruction that must take place without delay, they decided to conduct it on the deck of the Shogun’s fastest ship, set to sail to Shaolin early in the morning.

  She spent the night on a hilltop where multiple residential structures were built, connected to the Sun Temple by the rope bridge that she now walked across. She had spent many hours admiring the shiny metal of the samurai sword and tracing the etchings of the hilt with her fingertips. Its weight and color were perfect in every way. The sword was special. The sword was hers.