Warriors of the Way-Pentalogy

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “What?!” I said, frustration and anger overwhelming me.

  “Why are you angry? You can’t attack? So what? You can’t defend? So what? Let it go and things will slow down. It’s your anger that blinds you, Dante.”

  Just what I needed, more fortune-cookie speak. Yet somewhere in the back of my brain, a small voice asked, “What if he is right?” I took a deep breath and re-centered. I let go of my attachment to the outcome of this fight. It didn’t matter if I won or lost. It didn’t matter if I could attack or defend. All that mattered was that I was here in this moment, now. I saw Devin smile as he began his attack. Everything was fluid, grace and power flowed and joined. I saw it all. He was no longer moving too fast, everything had slowed down. He thrust at my midsection, which I sidestepped, bringing my own lower attack at his right leg, which he easily avoided. He feinted at my leg and brought up the staff to my right shoulder with a spinning attack that caught me. The staff crashed into the nerve cluster in my deltoid, rendering my right arm dead weight. One handed, the staff was useless to me now, as it was too heavy and cumbersome. Holding the staff in my left hand and pressing down on it at an angle with my right foot, I stomped its midsection, creating a much smaller staff or jo. I parried Devin’s attack, mindful not to let him touch me. With a smaller weapon, I had to close the distance. No small feat when facing a skilled opponent. I feinted left and stepped right. Devin moved too slowly, or so I thought. It was a trap and I rushed right into it. As I brought my jo to crash into his ribs, he spun into my attack and smashed his elbow into my solar plexus. The air rushed out of my lungs and I doubled over. I knew enough not to stay there for more than a split second.

  I barely avoided Devin’s staff and I stumbled back, forcing my body to breathe again. I re-centered myself, running down options in my head as I circled him. My right arm throbbed, Devin, eyes blindfolded, turned to face my position and attacked. His staff glowed a deep blue. What I couldn’t deflect, I avoided. I couldn’t close the distance to effectively use my weapon.

  How was he “seeing” me? It wasn’t sight, so it had to be hearing. I stepped back and stopped moving. Devin stopped as well. He moved his staff as if searching. I had him. I slowly and quietly moved to his left side. I lunged with all the speed I could create. If I connected, this fight would be over. I watched in awe as he avoided my strike. He whirled his staff low, while I stood transfixed. His staff connected—more like crashed—into my calves. For a moment, I was briefly horizontal, and then I saw his leg coming at me. I barely got my arm down in time. He kicked through my jo and into my midsection. The impact sent me flying. I landed on the dojo floor, hard, certain I had broken something, but a quick assessment told me everything was intact. I looked around, noticing I was the only junior left on the floor. Weaponless, I racked my brain on how to attack. If it wasn’t hearing, could he sense my movement? It was crazy. It would mean he could sense the displacement of air as I moved around. How was I going to move without disturbing the air? It just couldn’t be done. I had seen enough tonight to know we had left the realm of what I thought possible a long time ago. I focused my breath and concentrated. I focused on all those months, years of training into this one moment. I moved without thinking, my only intention to strike Devin. Time slowed and I saw a surprised expression cross Devin’s face. I raced in and sent a side thrust kick to his ribs, fully expecting to hit air as he dodged. My foot struck him squarely in the side. My brain noted a few shared inhales of breath from the other seniors. I felt I had hit a steel beam. Devin turned towards me. Too late, I realized my error. For a moment, he couldn’t sense me. Rather than utilize that advantage and strike with a head blow, I kicked him instead. It was the last technique I recall. Then everything went black. I awoke with a splitting headache, lying down on a cot in a room that was sparsely decorated. For a moment I had no sense of time or location. There were other cots in the room, most of which were empty.

  The students in the red uniforms walked around the room tending to cots that were occupied. I thought I recognized Robert. His face—and come to think of it, most of him—was a mess. I looked on the left side of the room, and had to close my eyes while the room resettled and stopped swaying. I saw Zen, who appeared to be sleeping. After a moment, I realized he wasn’t sleeping. His eyes had swollen shut.

  “How do you like my new look?” he said. Most of his upper body was bandaged. One of the students in a red uniform stood next to his cot. He looked like he had been hit by a truck, repeatedly. I tried to sit up; my body immediately vetoed that idea. As I lay there, the room spun on a lazy axis, slowly swaying to and fro. I got the uneasy sensation of being on a ship at sea.

  “What kind of promotion was that, Zen?”

  Zen laughed or at least attempted to, before the pain brought him up short.

  “I heard you actually kicked Devin.”

  It came back, flooding in. I remembered the kick and then he turned and hit me with something that shut my body down instantly.

  “Yeah, it was a setup though. I kicked him and he put my lights out.”

  “You don’t get it Dante. No one has ever laid a technique on him as a senior.”

  “Well, he was blindfolded, Zen. He had that dragon’s tail thing over his eyes.” This time Zen did laugh. I liked him more by the minute.

  “What you did hasn’t been done in a long time, Dante. I’m sure they will want to speak to you.”

  “Who are they?”

  “You’d better get some rest, D.” I have a feeling we are going to need it.”

  “Okay fine, tell me one thing, though.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What were you doing with the staff? How did you make it glow like Marcus?”

  Zen sat up and opened his eyes as much as he could. It looked like he was squinting against a noon sun, searching my face as if looking for something.

  “Holy shit, you really don’t know? You were right to ask what kind of promotion this was.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Let me ask you first, Dante, How long have you been training, not here, but in total?”

  I thought back. No easy feat considering the throbbing in my head. I remembered my training in the various martial branches. I remembered the years, the sweat, the tears and the blood. Friends found and brothers lost.

  “A long time, Zen. So long, I don’t remember when it wasn’t a part of my life,” I said.

  “In all that time, you have never heard of a group called the Warriors of the Way?”

  I stared at him blankly.

  “Damn,” he whispered. The student in the red uniform moved closer to Zen, effectively stopping our conversation. He whispered something I couldn’t catch.

  “He has to know, I can tell him,” was Zen’s response.

  “It is not your place to tell him,” the student answered. His hands were glowing a deep blue.

  “But he doesn’t even—-” The red uniformed student had placed his hands gently on Zen’s chest. Within seconds Zen was sleeping deeply. The student turned to me, his hands still glowing.

  “Hey, really, I’m okay. No need for the sleep assist, really.” I wasn’t in any condition to stop him; a two-year old could have had his way with me in my condition.

  “You need your rest, warrior.” He placed his hands on my chest and the deepest sense of calm and bliss suffused my being. I floated on that ocean of peace, until I left consciousness.

  THE MIRROR

  I OPENED MY eyes and lay still. I half expected the room to pitch and shift, but it remained motionless. I was in a different room; it was small and furnished simply. In one corner of the room was a small desk, and some books were neatly placed in one corner. I couldn’t make out the titles from the bed. The walls were bare with the exception of one scroll that read, “Ren Ma-keep polishing” in an older style of calligraphy. There was one window, which let in a soft light. It seemed to be just after dawn. I sat up, testing my body. I marveled at what a go
od night’s sleep could do. Someone, I figured the red gi student, changed my clothes in the night. I was now wearing a dark grey uniform, the color of slate. It was heavy weight cotton that felt surprisingly soft against my skin. There was a chair at the desk, and a small wooden chest at the foot of the bed. I wondered if I was still in the dojo. If I was, it was much larger than I thought. The hardwood floors were bare and felt cool against my feet. As I was getting my bearings, one of the red gi students entered silently. He saw I was awake and stepped out before I could say anything. Moments later my door swung wide open and the doorway was completely filled by a mountain of a man. I quickly realized it was Zen with a huge grin on his face.

  “Dante!” he yelled as he gave me a bear hug. With the air rapidly escaping my lungs and my ribs creaking under the pressure of his hug, I barely managed to answer him.

  “Zen,” I managed to gasp. He looked down at me and let me go. “Sorry about that, D.”

  “Zen, what is all the fuss? I just saw you yesterday.” Zen looked at me and then looked off to the side a gesture I would become familiar with, whenever he had to say something difficult.

  “Dante, you’ve been gone for five days.”

  “Five days?” I asked not quite believing him.

  “C’mon Zen, stop playing, that’s not funny.” One look at his face told me he was serious.

  “They were real concerned, D. Even the Master came in to look at you.” I could tell he was holding something back.

  “What else, Zen. Just tell me.” I looked him straight in the face.

  “Dante, when they brought you in, I could tell you were banged up bad. They just kept saying you were healing in the mirror. Funny thing is, if you notice, no mirrors anywhere in this whole building. Do you remember anything?”

  “Zen, I have no idea what this ‘mirror’ is. Who was saying this?”

  “I overheard the seniors talking.” I tried to remember the last five days. All I remembered was the night of promotion, my last conversation with Zen, the red gi student placing his hands on my chest and the feeling of bliss. Nothing else surfaced.

  “They said no junior had ever done that before,” said Zen. “You sure you don’t remember anything?”

  “Nothing Zen. Maybe it will come back later?” I was unsettled by the five day gap in my memory.

  “Anyway D. This—” and Zen spread his arms around to indicate the room— “is now your room.”

  “My room?” I asked. What about my place in Queens?”

  “Oh you mean that hole in the wall you called an apartment?” Zen looked around and laughed. “I would call this a considerable upgrade. All your belongings will be shipped to the school. Besides, it’s too dangerous out there for you right now.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “You remember when I made mention of the Warriors of the Way?”

  I vaguely recalled the very short conversation. “Yeah, briefly before we were cut off.”

  “All I can tell you is that they are real and this is one of their schools.”

  “Excuse me? Look, all I came here for was my promotion, not any of this ‘Warriors of the Way’ mysterious secret society, Zen.”

  “Well, that’s all I’m allowed to share with you. Actually I don’t know if to pity you or congratulate you. Remember Marcus?”

  “Yes, wasn’t he the senior that put you out?”

  Zen chuckled. “Yeah, well he is now my senior.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Each senior is paired to a junior – indefinitely. I’ll give you three guesses who your senior is.” It was just a tickle at first, and then the sense of dread quickly blossomed into a full-fledged gut check.

  “Devin?”

  “Got it in one. Don’t feel too bad. I hear some of his students even survive his training!”

  “Not funny, Zen.” I wasn’t looking forward to this except that a small, very small part of me did look forward to it.

  A moment later a shadow crossed the doorway. Zen turned around to see Devin looking at him with the hint of a smile on his face.

  “I believe your senior is looking for you, Zen.”

  Zen bowed, shot me a wink and made his way to the door.

  “Thank you Senpai,” said Zen as he jogged down the corridor, moving with effortless grace for someone so large.

  Devin turned to look at me.

  “I see you seem to be feeling better.”

  In truth I felt great. Somehow though, volunteering that information seemed dangerous.

  “I’m feeling better,” I said.

  Devin smiled and then turned serious.

  “Do you remember anything from the time you were unconscious?”

  Memories like wisps of smoke hovered in my head, but nothing was clear.

  “No, Senpai. Nothing.” He looked directly at me as if willing me to remember.

  “The moment you recall anything, let me know.”

  “What happened? Where did I go? What is the mirror?” Devin looked at me as if assessing if I was ready to hear what he had to say.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” And he turned and headed out the door with me following him. As we walked down the corridor, I began to realize the immense size of the school. It seemed we were another level underground. The corridor stretched on for about three hundred feet with corridors leading off the main one. It was a veritable maze and as I followed Devin, I realized that without him I would be lost inside five minutes wandering down here. The corridors were well lit with sconces that appeared to be ancient lanterns. The walls and floor were the color of a warm cherry wood. It gave the impression and presence of solidity. Every ten or so feet, there were circles with symbols carved into the ceiling that glowed faintly. After a series of turns that left me completely disoriented, we came to a large courtyard that had a large reflecting pool in the center. In the center of the pool was a wooden structure, with a bridge leading to it. Around the pool grew trees. In short, the scene was idyllic.

  “What is this place?” I marveled because I thought we were underground.

  “Before I tell you what this place is, I want you to look in the water and tell me what you see.”

  I looked into the water. I saw what I usually saw when I looked into water. The water reflected the image around it.

  “I see a reflection,” I said.

  “Look again, this time, look closer.”

  I figured this was some kind of ‘exercise’, so I looked again, fully expecting to see the same thing, a reflection of all that was around me.

  Initially that was what I saw: the trees, the bridge, the small house in the center. Then the scene shifted, a sense of vertigo rocked me as I looked at Devin in amazement.

  “It’s – it’s not the same? The reflection is different?”

  “Keep looking,” I was instructed. As I looked, the reflection shimmered and shifted, showing me countryside, with rolling hills. Then it shifted and changed into a city, very much like my own New York. I looked directly into the water, but didn’t see my reflection. The scene shifted again to some type of caverns. I was about to reach out and touch the water when Devin pulled me back sharply.

  “I don’t think that is a good idea, considering what has happened to you recently.”

  “What is this place, what is that?” The shock crept into my voice.

  “This place, Devin said, sweeping his hand around, is called a nexus. Think of it as the hub of a wheel, and each spoke leads to many other places.”

  “Like the places I’m seeing in the water?”

  Devin nodded.

  “If I jumped into the water…”

  “I would imagine you would get wet? To answer your question, no, you can’t get there from diving in.”

  “Where is there?”

  “It has been given many names. We simply refer to it as the Mirror.”

  “I know what your next question is. Why the mirror? As far as we have been able to determine, every place you see ‘reflecte
d’ is a representation of our world.”

  “You mean—?”

  “Yes, what you are seeing is another version of this reality. There is only one exception. In the mirror, time flows differently.

  “What do you mean differently?”

  “In the mirror, there are areas of time that are accelerated or decelerated compared to our time here.”

  “You mean time is not constant.”

  Devin smiled at me.

  “Dante, time, our time at least our construct of time, is never constant. We just choose not to see that.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, truly perplexed.

  Devin began walking to the bridge that led to the structure at the center of the lake.

  “Let me see if I can explain. We both agree that a minute is sixty seconds, correct?

  I nodded.

  “If I was to say let’s sit down for exactly a minute, it wouldn’t feel very long, would it?”

  “No, it wouldn’t.” We walked on in silence for a few moments. After what felt like five minutes, Devin spoke again.

  “How long were we silent?”

  “It felt like five minutes.”

  “But I only counted to sixty.”

  We had reached the structure, it was a training hall. I looked over the edge of the railing into the water where images played themselves like out of a movie. It was disconcerting, but mesmerizing at the same time.

  “Now to the reason we are here, Dante. I know you have a lot of questions, and I promise to answer them all at some point. Right now I just need you to listen and accept what I am going to share with you.

  “Throughout the world there are schools like this one. Some larger, some smaller, the one thing they have in common is that they select and train spiritual warriors. Every few years, a promotion is held, to select those who will replace the fallen or those who have, because of age, retired from service. Sadly there are very few elders. Each school is unto itself a neutral area for the spiritual warriors. It’s quite a paradox that no deadly combat can occur where we train to be deadly.” As he spoke I looked around the training hall. To say it was sparsely furnished would be an understatement. The walls and hardwood floor were worn with age and use. It was the simplest of structures, but it contained strength, permanence.