Legend of the Red Sun Village

by Mark Swaine

  The advancing Gaikotsu stop in their tracks, taken aback by the puny mortal's mighty statement of war. As the five Gaikotsu overlook the Jade soldier into the dark alley behind him, so does he, for it was not his war cry they were threatened by. As the bellowing stops and a deep growling rumbles through the curious silence, a massive murderous beast bursts through the alley and into the open square and the Jade soldier watches on in disbelief as the gargantuan beige beast rips, stamps, breaks, bites and shatters the Gaikotsu into piles of whizzing bones. Striking at the beast's chest with their long curved swords, they cause mere scratches upon his tough weathered skin. The angry brute brings his clenched fists down over the last triple headed Gaikotsu and obliterates it into snapping shards that fly across the market place as he brings a hefty raised foot down upon it. Turning his head and looking in all directions for more enemies, Yeman Ren pants out streams of saliva until turning to the two humans. The troll looks down at Akio and sees him barely breathing, then looks briefly at the brave Jade soldier. In ordinary circumstances the Jade soldier would have thrown a spear at his legs, or sent an arrow flying into his eye, but not today. The Jade soldier bows graciously to the troll whilst introducing himself.

  “I am Shaozu Zhu, Major of the 2nd West Wall Battalion of the Jade army,” says the soldier, proudly.

  “Yeman Ren,” replies the former King troll simply, “this man is in great need of a Healer,” says Yeman Ren observing the usually fatal wound in the pale man.

  “He should have died from this wound he has sustained,” says Shaozu pointing to Akio's chest.

  “There is only one spell in all existence that bestows the host with eternal life. Once the spell has been cast, the immortal vessel can only be killed by a direct strike to the heart,” says Yeman Ren.

  Yeman Yen removes a saddle-sized leather pouch from his sash and dips his finger inside it and begins to plug Akio's chest wound with a thick, pungent smelling substance.

  “Whatever that is, it smells like dog shit,” murmurs Akio.

  “Dragon shit,” corrects Yeman Ren.

  Endless quips and jokes circle Akio's tired mind, and he struggles so much to pick one he loses consciousness. Yeman Ren applies the fresh dragon manure before removing two large rocks from his pouch and grinds them together. A loose shower of blue sparks drops from between the rocks and ignites the dragon dung smeared into Akio's chest. The green paste sizzles, smokes and fizzes fiercely whilst releasing healing toxins into Akio's bloodstream.

  “Where would we take him? The city is being overrun by the undead as we speak,” says Shaozu.

  “I know a place on the outskirts of the city, a Healer,” says Yeman Ren.

  “Xiaojian the Healer, near the outpost? She is said to be the greatest Healer in all the city. How do you know of Xiaojian?” asks the curious soldier.

  “I raised her,” says Yeman Ren. “We must move now before his condition worsens,” says Yeman Ren, scooping Akio up in his arms.

  “How? The portal has gone, destroyed from the other side,” says Shaozu looking at the empty uprooted hole in the alleyway.

  “Follow me, and keep up,” says Yeman Ren, running headfirst through the wall of a concrete building.

  Earlier in the Chiffen square, a fully armoured Onna-Bugeisha woman sits on the wall of a trickling fountain staring into an untouched plate of rice, chicken and vegetables. Xan Li ponders deeply on her failure as the leader of the Onna-Bugeisha, and even though she is forever grateful to her cousin Kamui Li for releasing her from the confines of her cell, she had yet to come to grips with reality. Even though only mere years had passed since Wing Shin had magically confined her to her own blade, to Xan Li it felt like an eternity. The black haired and strong faced woman tenses her gauntlet clad fists and convinces herself that her muscles and ligaments are performing the actions commanded by her mind. Xan Li moves her fingers, exercising them in stretches and folds, then tries once again to pick up a piece of fried chicken with the chopsticks resting on her plate. Chao Gao, hard at work behind a blanket of thick rising steam is busier than usual and run of his feet with an endless supply of orders. With his red sweating face concealed by portions of squid and vegetables twisting in leaping tosses between bouts of flame, he frowns heavily as a familiar pest sets up his mobile cart beside his. The cart, being driven by a steam powered mechanical donkey, honks and squeals to a stop. The quirky stall owner and inventor opens a panel in the metal donkey's back and peers into the empty furnace and looks drastically at his last sack of coal. The internal machine of pistons, cogs and wheels, hiss, grind and clunk to a stop as the metal mule lowers to its knees with heavy thuds. The travelling salesman throws a basket of water over the hot-panelled mule and a cloud of vapour rises from its body in a sudden hiss of steam. The inventor walks to his stall and lugs a can of oil over to the donkey.

  The inventor whistles as he inserts the spout of the can into the donkey's mouth and waits for the donkey's ears to twitch, signifying the adequate amount. The erratic man removes the spout as the donkey's ears twitch in squeaking twists, and he allows his steed to rest. The inventor's face covered in lines of scars, rolls up his draping sleeves to reveal even more. But he didn't care, the way he sees it scars were a product of his profession, and if there is one thing he prides himself on, its putting his blood and sweat into his inventions. The enthusiastic man smiles sympathetically at Chao Gao whilst clasping his hands together before strolling over to his first customer of the day and pretending to mind his own business. Chao Gao pretends he hasn't seen the wacky pest and hands over three dragon scales of food to an impatient customer.

  “Busy, not enough hands, what if you could change all that with just one simple tool?” says Mǎkè Shīwěixián leaning smarmily and casually on Chao Gao's workstation.

  A loud hiss follows as Mǎkè's hand lands on the hot cooker top, and his mouth and eyes open widen as he quickly removes his hand and shakes it wildly.

  “Please, please Mǎkè I have not the time for your crazy mindless inventions,” says Chao Gao, throwing him a wet rag to soak and wrap his hand in.

  Mǎkè winces as he wraps the rag around his hand and quickly composes himself to continue his pitch.

  “Ah but with these new hands you will possess all the time you will ever need,” says Mǎkè rushing back from his stall with a metal and leather contraption.

  Mǎkè presses a button on the circular belt and two crossed frames spring outwards to reveal two metal hands attached to it. Mǎkè holds the invention proudly before Chao Gao, and the Chef double takes at the weird contraption whilst preparing a customer's order.

  “What in the name of Raijin's pissing pot is that?” exclaims Chao Gao.

  “Verrrrrry easy, very simple to use, strap belt to your waist and control hands using directional buttons,” says Mǎkè.

  “How am I to fit that... thing...on my waist?” says Chao Gao wiping his forearm across his forehead.

  Mǎkè stands on his tip toes and tilts his head as he looks down at Chao Gao's massive bulging gut and he rubs his chin problematically. Holding his arms out wide to match the size of Chao Gao's waist, he estimates as best he can how much leather would do the job.

  “Perhaps if I could measure the belly of a small whale...” muses Mǎkè aloud.

  Chao Gao listens to Mǎkè comparing his physique to that of whale's and shakes his head crossly and exhales whilst trying to keep up with the constant flow of food orders. Mǎkè dovetails his hands together and holds his hands forward whilst bending his elbows to imitate a large gut.

  “How much leather can possibly exist?” says Mǎkè scratching his scruffy head and stubbly jaw.

  With his organic cooker working full blast, the temperature behind Chao Gao's cooking stall grows near unbearable, even for the hard working chef.

  “Either you possess a belt that reaches three times around the greatness of China, or some form of magic is forbidding your pants from falling to your feet?” muses Mǎkè.

  Re
d-faced with his cheeks puffed out, Chao Gao reaches over and grabs Mǎkè by his collar.

  “I wear a rope,” says Chao Gao quietly and angrily.

  “From a bell tower?” asks Mǎkè innocently.

  Realising his honesty is not only costing his sale but is also about to get him a beating, he winces as Chao Gao's massive closed fist draws near. Mǎkè is suddenly rescued by an impatient bellowing customer and Chao Gao releases the pest and continues about his work. Mǎkè looks hopelessly at his potential client, then a genius thought enters his head as he smiles with excitement.

  “I know what it is that you desire, I possess just the thing,” says Mǎkè confidently whilst wagging his finger.

  Mǎkè dashes off to his cart and returns with a square contraption and slams it confidently on the counter. Chao Gao shakes his head in annoyance whilst quickly filleting a large white fish.

  “Tired of waiting for bread to cook, perhaps you long for the day when you can bake bread without burning your fingers,” says Mǎkè holding up his bandaged hand as an example.

  “You think me an imbecile, you did not burn that hand baking bread, you did that just now, I saw you with my own two eyes you lying fool, I was here!” says Chao in amazement and disbelief.

  “My invention cooks bread in half the time it takes for your dragon gland cooker,” claims Mǎkè boldly and ignoring his slip up.

  Chao Gao exclaims a great laugh and he cheers up immediately as he chuckles over the hot stove.

  “You will not be laughing so loud soon my friend, I call it...” says Mǎkè, forming a title with his hands, “...the toaster,” concludes Mǎkè, smiling with wonder as his hand trails off into an imaginary distance. “Would you like to see a short demonstration?” asks Mǎkè suavely whilst clicking his tongue repeatedly under his bottom lip.

  “Will you leave me alone if I say yes?” asks Chao Gao, serving his last customer with a nod and a smile.

  “My wide friend, after you see what my invention is capable of, we are going to be closer than you can possibly imagine,” says Mǎkè, suddenly aware of his overly awkward choice of words, “as partners,” he adds.

  “Partners?” asks Chao Cao weirdly.

  Chao Gao throws his towel over his shoulder and leans back whilst staring a look of doubt and disgust at Mǎkè's suggestive relationship between the two.

  “Business partners,” corrects Mǎkè.

  “Just get this demonstration over with. I have much to do,” snaps Chao Gao.

  Mǎkè cheekily grabs two pieces of sliced bread from the counter and places the two pieces of bread into the two empty spring loaded slats and presses a short lever with a click. Mǎkè smiles at Chao Gao with assurance then turns a large key whilst looking away indifferently, behaving as if he had performed this demonstration a hundred times. Mǎkè sets the toaster back down on the counter and Chao Gao watches closely as the piece of machinery starts to glow. Eventually smoke begins to rise from the two slats and Mǎkè frowns curiously as the two pieces of bread should have popped up by now. Mǎkè quickly picks up the toaster as the bread catches fire and holds it under his armpit whilst thumping its base. The toaster finally ejects the two pieces of black charred bread sending them spinning across the Chiffen square. A drunken man drinking ale at a bar is knocked off his stool as the burnt piece of toast impacts the back of his head, and the other smashes another drunkard’s pot of ale in his hand.

  “Works like a dream,” says Chao Gao, unimpressed.

  “It does, it will! It merely requires a few adjustments,” says Mǎkè, slightly embarrassed.

  “Would you be interested in purchasing my new range of chopsticks?” asks Mǎkè, quickly discarding the flaming toaster and revealing a handful of bent wooden cutlery.

  Mǎkè, with a desperate and hopeful smile lays the three pronged chopsticks on the counter, and then admits defeat with a disappointed look as Chao Gao shakes his head in reply. Chao Gao begins to see just how desperate the proud and eccentric salesman really is, and can also tell by the man's shaking hands, skinny appearance and pale colour that he probably hasn't eaten in a few days. Chao Gao had to admit that this adamant pest has heart, and hasn't yet given up, and that his crazy inventions do serve a potentially valuable purpose, all he needed was the chance he was given when he first arrived in the city. Mǎkè looks at the assortment of food ready to be served by the next customer and discreetly counts the few cowrie shells in his satchel. Mǎkè smiles bravely at Chao Gao and bids him good day before walking away with his broken toaster.

  “How much for the multi-handed belt?” asks Chao Gao.

  “For you, ten cowrie shells,” says Mǎkè with gratitude and underselling his product.

  “I will give you thirty cowrie shells for the belt, on the condition that you return to me with a working Toaster,” says Chao Gao, placating Mǎkè in a businesslike manner.

  “Why do you wish for the belt? It will not fit,” says Mǎkè.

  “I... I am on a diet,” lies Chao Gao.

  “'Tis strange you should say that, I have noticed your pants a little looser and your face a little leaner,” lies Mǎkè.

  “Oh you have?” smirks Chao Gao. “Do we have a deal or not?” he adds.

  “Yes, a thousand times yes, you and me, partners,” says Mǎkè eagerly.

  “Business...” says Chao Gao.

  “...partners,” say Mǎkè and Chao Gao laughing together.

  Chao Gao hands over a pouch of cowrie shells to the overjoyed and dumbstruck inventor and Mǎkè throws the top of his body over to embrace the large, saturated chef. Chao Gao pries the skinny man of his soaked chest and hands him a free plate of food to mark his victory deal. Mǎkè notices a queue forming again and allows Chao Gao to set back to work

  “I am going to eat this with my new range of chopsticks,” says Mǎkè with a spring in his step.

  Mǎkè, in a great mood takes a seat beside the armour clad Onna-Bugeisha woman.

  “Greetings fine lady, my name is Mǎkè, Mǎkè Shīwěixián, may I join you?” asks the upbeat young man.

  Xan Li ignores the man and closes her eyes in irritation as he continues to speak. She looks at the stranger as he removes a pair of three pronged chop sticks from his tattered tunic.

  “Are you going to eat that?” asks Mǎkè peering at her plate of untouched chicken.

  Xan Li looks at the stranger and grabs him by the throat. Mǎkè is stunned and frozen as the woman looks at his handsome scarred face, and even more shocked as she slowly and passionately kisses his lips. As she finally pulls away she looks contently into his eyes, knowing the moment is real.

  “May I,” asks Xan Li with a smile of relief whilst gesturing to one of his chopsticks.

  Mǎkè, still stunned and immediately love struck, is late too reply as she takes a chopstick of his plate. She spins the chopstick around to use the pronged end and stabs a piece of chicken and veg with it.Mǎkè looks in amazement at his invention, even though he hadn't purposely designed the chopstick to be used in such a fashion. In a moment of pure joy and ecstasy he rises to his feet and throws his hands in the air.

  “This is the greatest day ever, the sun is shining, I finally made a sale, and I was kissed... on the lips... by a woman!” shoutsMǎkè at the top of his voice.

  The shoppers and merchants in the Chiffen square cheer and laugh for the familiar and affable passing stranger, as they're all too aware of his difficulty to sell so much as a wicker hat. The laughing crowd dies to silence as a man wearing a dusty and dirty robe and wicker hat stands imposingly behind him. The crowd back away slowly as the man taps Mǎkè on the shoulder. Mǎkè turns to face the taller, older and unshaven man, looking at him sternly.

  “I suggest the first thing you do is replace the drink you knocked out of my hand with that flying piece of bread,” says the long haired man reeking of ale. “This belongs to you, does it not?” adds the annoyed drunkard, handing him a solid piece of charred bread.

  “My friend, not only will I r
eplace your ale, but today you will join me and drink heartily to celebrate my latest business arrangement,” says Mǎkè, flicking a cowrie shell into the air.

  The cowrie shell disappears into thin air, and the drunken stranger shows it to Mǎkè between his finger and thumb.

  “Just the pint of ale,” says the stranger before turning away.

  “I am buying,” says Mǎkè desperately, having nobody to celebrate with.

  “You are buying?” says the drunk man.

  “I would not have it any other way, and you fine lady, please join us,” says Mǎkè, clearing a table and setting up three stools.

  “No,” replies Xan Li, finishing her meal.

  “Please, but you must, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and the sky is as clear as...” rambles Mǎkè signalling the barkeeper for three jugs of ale.