by Ino Lee
Shadow’s arms suddenly went free, the ninja behind her buckling as an arrow went through his leg. A second arrow whizzed overhead and pierced the needle-wielding ninja in the shoulder, causing him to drop the needle and fall back, reeling in pain. A butterfly sword slashed the ninja holding Ting, followed by a thump to the head with the hilt of its sister blade.
The last ninja standing—the one with thin brows—turned and ran for cover, surprised by the onslaught and spurred on by the sound of whistling arrows now targeting the rooftops.
Hojin grabbed Ting’s arm and pulled her away while Panyin helped up Shadow.
“Hojin!” Ting screamed, elated.
“Run Ting; don’t look back.”
She started crying, unsure if it was because of happiness or sadness, or the sheer weight of all that had happened. Hojin picked her up and ran for them both.
Kai trailed behind them and felt for energies along the rooftops. A scatter of movement created a tingling sensation in his mind, causing him to redirect his aim and fire. A ninja peered over the rooftop and immediately ducked, narrowly dodging an arrow that was already on its way. He wanted to get up to return fire, but another arrow bounced off the parapet, while another whistled overhead.
Kai loosed arrow after arrow, emptying his quiver and creating a spray of cover.
“What is he doing?” Panyin said. “He’s wasting arrows.”
“No,” Hojin said. “He’s making sure we get away.”
“I can’t see anyone.”
“He doesn’t have to.”
“Idiots,” the Blood Ninja said. “How did you let children get away?”
His blood patch had a line through it, signifying a high rank.
“It happened fast,” the man with thin brows said. “There were others. They ambushed us.”
The ranking ninja scanned the street. He walked over to the blood stain on the ground left by one of the injured, and noticed a handbag. He picked it up and examined it.
“Describe these ambushers.”
The other ninja hesitated. “It was dark . . .”
The ranking officer sneered. “These girls may know something. They sneak into Biyan and escape with the help of others, ones who dare attack the Poisoned Blood. I will ask you just one more time, Zougou. Describe these ambushers.”
“Apologies, Taesuk. It happened fast. They were young. They may have also been children. Street children.”
“Street children?” He spat in disgust. “If you were not the only one left standing that could identify them, I would kill you right here.”
18
SHIAN AND RIYON led the procession of Shaolin warriors down the empty street, toward the glow of fire in the distance. They marched apprehensively, being careful and measured with each step.
“What do you think?” Shian asked the elder.
“Up until now, they attacked covertly under the cover of night.” He sneered. “Now they light fires to draw us out.”
“A trap or diversion?”
“My instinct says diversion. We can’t be everywhere and the Koon Gee know that. But we should prepare for trap.”
Lu-feng grunted. “Well at least we didn’t have to wait long.” He almost sounded eager. “They made the first move.”
Shian turned and pointed high. “We need eyes, Lu-feng. Do you think you can you manage it?”
Lu-feng squinted along the rooflines. “I’d rather be here on the ground with you, at the crux of the danger, but if you wish.”
“Don’t worry, we can manage,” Riyon said. “I still have fight left in me.”
“I thought you were only supposed to be advising away from the front lines.”
“Shian’s walking slightly ahead of me, so technically I am not in front.”
Lu-feng laughed. “I suppose. I guess you are in good hands.”
He split off with a contingent of warriors and started scaling the nearest building.
“Lu-feng is right,” Shian said. “You shouldn’t be here. At the very least you should be looking for Kai and Hojin.”
Riyon huffed. “I already sent two warriors to covertly track them down—warriors we cannot spare.”
“Just two?”
“It is best not to spread news that the chosen one is running wild in the city. You never know what spirits are listening. It will be impossible to find them anyway. Hojin and Kai will turn up when they do. They can take care of themselves more than everyone suspects. At least here, I am needed.”
A nearby scream put them on guard, but they could not pinpoint the location.
“They have the advantage as long as they operate among innocents,” Shian said.
“They are in enemy terrain without supply lines. Eventually we’ll stamp them out.”
Burning buildings came into view: a city guard station and two of its neighbors. A handful of dead bodies on the ground drew their attention, their motionless forms highlighted by the flame.
Riyon kneeled and examined them suspiciously. None looked like city guards. They were angled awkwardly, almost as if they had been killed elsewhere and dragged there. His heart raced.
“Trap,” he said.
Commotion sounded on the rooftops and a light orb flared. Soon Lu-feng and the Shaolin warriors barreled over the ledge and jumped down to street-level, with one falling and not rising again.
“Tonkai!” Lu-feng shouted. “Take cover.”
They retreated across the street and were hounded by arrows. A wave of dark ninjas followed, many with their faces fully concealed, chasing and scattering them behind the buildings and into the alleyways. The Shaolin warriors were better able to hold their ground against the elite ninjas once behind the cover of the walls, safe from the hail of fire across the street, but the fighting quarters were cramped and narrow.
A high-pitched giggle echoed in the alley.
A Shaolin warrior was struck by a spear from above. More spears came down as unan masks peered over the ledges.
“Unan,” Riyon warned. “We need warriors back on top.”
Lu-feng ran toward a wall and jumped, propelling himself up to the opposite wall, then bouncing back and forth across the gap until he reached the top. Several other Shaolin fighters followed his lead and joined the battle up high.
An elite ninja popped out from a second floor window and made straight for Shian, knowing she led the Shaolin warriors into battle and was thus a high-ranking target. It chopped down on her with a naginata, the polearm discernible from others by its notably large spear-end. Shian knocked aside the heavy blow and returned strikes. Judging by its quickness and strength, the tonkaija was formidable, an impression further galvanized by its sleek metal look and slatted visor.
She locked weapons and pulsed her staff’s gemstone with light, eager to blind it before another tonkaija lurking nearby could arrive. The visored ninja touched the side of its mask to temporarily close its slats and shut out the light, then laughed through holes punctured in its metal face where its mouth would be. Shian was impressed by its cleverness, but then slammed the butt of her staff against the floor to send out a plume of chi energy that could not be avoided. The laughing ninja flew back, but the lurking tonkaija surprisingly kept on. This one’s mask was a sheet of black fabric that made it seem like it had no face.
Riyon saw the danger and flipped the grip of his sword and launched it, impaling the ninja. Shian followed with a crack over the head.
She looked up and down the pathway and saw fighters engaged everywhere. There were much more tonkaijas than expected. She heard giggling and saw Lafay’s white mask slinking through the combatants and picking off distracted warriors with a rapier.
From above dropped masked figures—Raikahn, the red devil, and Changkun, the bronze demon—tearing into the warriors with tridents. More figures dropped further away.
; “We cannot take on both the Tonkai and unan,” Shian said.
Riyon retrieved his thrown sword and studied the alleyway. “Call the retreat. I’ll do what I can.” He pulled out a torch and held it up to her. “If you please.”
Shian touched her gemstone and set it on fire. Riyon ran off to take on Changkun, torch in one hand, sword in the other.
Shian stared at the flicker of the torch a moment longer, an idea emerging. Her eyes flashed with light and the monk staff grew bright.
“Warriors,” she messaged, broadcasting with her mind. “Fall back to the burning buildings. Lead them to fire.”
A few of the warriors acknowledged her call and she began the push toward the burning buildings.
“Fall back to the fire,” she instructed again.
More warriors followed.
The alley grew wider, but a squadron of Tonkai blocked the way. They were everywhere—on the ground, on the rooftops, and clinging to the sides of buildings. Fire roared behind them, a blast of heat that flickered on their silhouettes in hues of orange and red, some eaten by the dark fabric on their bodies, others reflected in the shiny glint of sharp metal.
“Protect me,” Shian messaged.
She took a step and leaned forward with her monk staff, concentrating intensely and feeling for the energies within the flames. An arrow shot at her, but a Shaolin warrior jumped in the way to deflect it. Another came and another warrior answered. Soon the tonkaijas started unloading their cutting stars, but before the deluge of shrapnel was too much to handle, Shian pulled back on her staff as if she were reeling in fish caught on a line.
Shreds of fire pulled from the great flame, cinders that flew across the alley and sent the tonkaijas scattering. Several caught fire. The Shaolin warriors converged and took advantage of the fiery chaos.
Riyon stepped lightly and drew Changkun’s attention with a wave of his torch. He slapped and guided the demon’s subsequent strikes astray, using as little energy as possible to defend. He already knew his enemy’s tactics and how to deal with it; masked ogres, fanged demons, and the like all fought with strength and tenacity, but there was a wildness to their approach that could be exploited. All he had to do was be patient and wait for the right moment to strike.
The unan clubbed down and dragged its trident across the ground in a wide sweep that sparked against the cobblestone. Riyon sidestepped and jumped to avoid the metal prong, then dashed forward and set its leg on fire with a torch thrust. The demon screeched and retreated to tend to its leg.
Soon Raikahn was there, the wily devil a more cunning adversary. It stabbed out with its fork to impale the torch, then twisted to shatter the burning wood to pieces. Riyon kicked at the embers to back the devil away and create distance.
Shaolin warriors were now on the move and passed them by. More of the Tonkai littered the space and Lafay poked its head from around a corner.
“Oh look, an elder!” it said in its unnaturally high voice. “How nice.”
It stepped out from behind the building, dragging the lifeless body of a Shaolin warrior.
Lu-feng ran by and grabbed Riyon’s arm.
“To the buildings. Shian’s calling. Now is not the time to make a stand.”
Riyon retreated, but the Koon Gee followed. They ran toward the orange glow, the smell of burning wood filling their lungs.
Silhouettes stood before the blaze, but were they friend or foe? Streams of hot fire shot out and sprayed across the alley—three monks channeling forth the flame. Raikahn’s leg and Lafay’s arm ignited, and the Koon Gee backed away.
The visored tonkaija flipped down from a ledge and slashed a barrel with its heavy blade, causing water to spew onto the ground. The unan calmly doused their flames and watched as the warriors held their ground.
Neither party budged.
The ninja ended the stalemate by throwing down a flurry of smoke bombs. Thick smoke wafted down the corridor and mixed in with the fire, shrouding everything from view.
“We’ll be seeing you, Shaolin warriors,” Raikahn said from behind the cloud.
Riyon peered into the smoke. “What are they doing?”
“They’re pulling away,” Shian said. “I sense energies distancing.”
Riyon dared not venture down the smoke-filled alley and ran back to the main street to catch a glimpse of the fleeing Koon Gee, but when he got there the streets were empty.
The warriors caught up to him.
“Which way are they headed?” he asked.
Shian shook her head. “Everywhere. They split apart.”
Riyon knew their energies would be too hard to track in a city full of people. He stomped his foot, unsatisfied with the battle’s ending. The Koon Gee proved deadlier than expected and questions still remained. Where did the demons go? How could they remain hidden? What else had the they done that night?
They returned to the alleyway after the smoke had cleared and discovered another oddity: the bodies of Shaolin warriors were still there, but those of the ninjas were gone.
19
THE GREAT PILGRIMAGE of the magaus began at dusk. Four hundred and twenty-three primates trekked across the jungle with little noise. Even the smallest child had learned the art of covert travel; such was the price of growing up in a forest hunted by demons. They tried to choose the quickest and most inconspicuous path to the Great Wall, hoping that the Koon Gee would not discover their exodus until it was too late. With any luck, their enemies would spend weeks chopping wood, only to reach their encampment and find it abandoned. Shiki had agreed to stay behind with a small squadron to keep up appearances while they were gone, occasionally carrying out raids on the forest clearers, at least until the magaus had safely established themselves in Jini.
The magaus didn’t need much time to uproot. They lived simply, with few possessions, living as one with the jungle forest. Each magau carried a light pack, a stave with a few optional weapons, and just enough water to make it through the day. The heaviest item in most packs was a clump of neatly wrapped mud; the center of Tangled Root’s mud pool had been dug up overnight, packaged, and divided among the magaus that morning. The idea was to share the load and have every magau carry a piece of their home with them. The chi-infused mud was their most precious commodity and would be brought back to life in the new world ahead.
Renshu raised a hand and the line stopped, a remarkable feat given their numbers. He signaled a break since they had been going strong all morning and needed rest. The magaus pulled tight and settled within a nondescript cluster of trees, where lookouts climbed the upper branches to guard the perimeter.
Renshu looked around anxiously. No matter how careful or covertly they moved, their sheer numbers were hard to hide. Stopping was dangerous.
Wong reached out with a canteen of water. He was wearing Kunchu.
“Relax. Take a break.”
Renshu waved it off. “Do you sense any trouble?”
“No. But it is hard to tell with so many magaus around. I think you picked a good spot.”
“Dark ninjas roam this territory. Toutoumo should be guide, if he were well.”
“You do well enough. I don’t know if Toutoumo could do anything for a group this large anyway. We may have to rely on a little luck.”
Renshu grumbled, then reached for his own canteen and drank. “I do not like to rely on this luck.”
“Don’t worry. Even if we come across a dark ninja hunting party, hundreds of magaus would scare them away. As long as we keep moving, they won’t be able to mobilize fast enough to keep us from reaching the Great Wall.”
“The way is not all in the trees. There are young ones and old.”
Wong understood his concern. They would travel the forest as far as it would take them, but eventually have to cross rocky, treeless terrain to get to the Great Wall. Taking every magau away from home and o
ut of the cover of the forest was undoubtedly worrisome. He wondered how to reassure him.
“We can’t control everything, but at least we’ve taken every precaution. Aiying consulted on our path. We have the awareness of hundreds of magaus and Kunchu. Jaguan will be able to see danger more easily outside of the forest as well.”
He nodded at the monk, who sat in meditation nearby. His eyes were closed, but light leaked out from behind his lids. A magau child examined him curiously and waved his hand in front his face, but got no reaction.
Jaguan saw the sky, bright and clear, perfect conditions for their journey out of Tangled Root. Trees rushed beneath his feet. An opening appeared through the canopy and down he plunged, through the lush leaves with dark vertical lines of trunks flashing by his peripheral vision. Now he saw a great congregation of monkeys crowded along the forest floor, huddled together as a discrete mass. He circled, swooping around, in and out of branches and narrowly dodging the dangerous limbs, carefully inspecting the perimeter. Then he saw himself, sitting upright with an adolescent monkey jumping up and down in front of his face.
The Shoukoo’s eyes opened and the child darted away at his change of state, sensing danger. Soon after, a powerful white hawk swooped in from the sky and landed on Jaguan’s outstretched arm, which was protected by a glove.
“Good, Zhanzu.”
“See anything?” Wong said.
Jaguan broke his mental connection, then studied his trusty pet a moment longer. He had brought his bird with him to Tangled Root the previous day so he wouldn’t have to make the trip alone, using his help to locate the magaus and look out for danger.
“Clear skies and trees.”
“Excellent. It seems we are safe for now.”
Renshu grumbled. “I do not trust the bird.”
Jaguan placed a large wriggling grub in Zhanzu’s beak, the nutty insect a popular snack of the magaus. He discovered the grub’s universal appeal the previous night when Zhanzu swooped down from a tree and stole part of Renshu’s meal. Renshu responded by throwing a mangosteen, but the hawk later retaliated by defecating overhead. The outcry was harsh, with Renshu chasing it into the forest with a handful of fruit as ammunition. Ever since then, the magau king had been threatening to roast Zhanzu on a spit.
