by Ryan Kirk
Then she thought of Lei’s words from that afternoon. She wasn’t suffering from nervous energy. Her own power was responding to that of the monks. Further evidence that Lei hadn’t been lying to her.
“Focus on your breath,” Lei suggested. “It’s a refrain often heard at the monasteries, and for good reason. It’s always with you, and if you can train your mind and body to respond to that focus, it’ll serve you well in almost every situation.”
The table was silent for a couple of minutes while Bai wrestled with Lei’s advice. Eventually, Yang spoke. “I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t sitting right here. No matter what I saw.”
Bai looked at the monk. While she struggled to focus on her breath, she had no problem focusing on him. “Do you know what happened in Galan?”
He met her gaze. “I was there.”
Bai lost the thin control she had been holding onto. She leaned forward over the table, feeling more aggressive than ever. “What happened? Why are you here now, instead of weeks ago?”
Yang’s chair scraped against the wooden floor as he put distance between them. He looked like a frightened rabbit.
Lei grabbed her shoulder and gently pulled her back. She resisted for a moment, but then relented. Now that she was paying attention, she could feel the power flowing through their contact. She ignored that for the moment. The real answers she sought were sitting right in front of her.
“Yang says he was down in Galan, in the market square, when it happened,” Lei said. “But, as you can see, he’s been injured.”
Yang shifted forward, still nervous. “I was. My first thought was to come here, but I decided against it. I suspected the monks would send their own to investigate, and I didn’t want to be nearby when that came to pass. I found a place in the woods where I could rest, far enough away from the traveled paths that my likelihood of being discovered by another monk was slim. I had an opportunity to fake my death, and I couldn’t pass it up.”
The explanation only confused Bai further. But she saw he was just getting started.
“I’m glad I didn’t come this way. I felt the battle, even as far away as I was. Had I been here, healing at the time, I certainly would have been found.”
Lei made a small motion and Yang’s voice faded. Lei looked at Bai. “I’ve only spoken with Yang for a few minutes, but I know the heart of the story he is about to tell. He knows what happened, but I do not believe you’ll like the truth. A truth told can never be unheard.” He left the question unspoken.
Bai fiddled with her bracelet. It wasn’t too late to put this all behind her. But, she suspected, it would be if she heard Yang’s tale. She imagined leaving this village and starting a new life somewhere far away. The pull of the dream almost convinced her to stand and leave.
But she was lying to herself. She could leave without knowing the truth, but she couldn’t go back to who she had been. She had no mother to watch out for her, and if Lei was telling the truth, and she was gifted, there would be no place she could hide. Hien’s words about constantly looking over her shoulder echoed in her thoughts.
She couldn’t find the strength to speak, but she nodded.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Lei suggested.
Yang nodded. “There isn’t much to tell. I was traveling with another monk named Zhou. He was a young man, very brash, very confident in his powers, like too many of the monks right now, I think. Strong, though. Our journey to Galan wasn’t supposed to be anything special. We were to make ourselves seen, solve whatever problems were brought our way, and speak to a few of our suppliers about the monastery’s needs for the summer months.”
Yang scratched at his chin. “I’ve been a monk now for over three decades. In that time, the monasteries have seen tremendous change, and I fear that more is coming. Zhou was the type of monk who had been trained in response to some of these changes.
“I grew up learning that the monks were supposed to serve the empire. Zhou grew up believing we should run it. Unfortunately, when a group of people begins to lose power, they’ll do everything they can to hold onto it that much tighter.”
The older monk sighed. “Zhou wasn’t a good man. I had hoped that on our trip I might get him to see more deeply, but in that, I failed terribly.
“We were in the market square that morning. I was talking to a fisherman, and it all happened so fast. A group of boys were playing ball, and an errant throw struck Zhou in the temple. I have no doubt it hurt, of course, but it was hardly the sort of injury worth noting.”
Yang paused. “Zhou didn’t see it that way. He turned on the boys, yelling at them, telling them that they had no sense of respect. He turned to the boy who had thrown the ball, picking him up and slamming him against a wall.”
Yang’s gaze turned to her. “And that is where you come in.”
Bai was even more lost than before. She had the memories of the boys playing ball. That much of the story rang true, at least. But what did any of that have to do with her?
The monk continued. “All of this happened right in front of you. When Zhou attacked the boy, you yelled at him to stop.”
Bai frowned. “I did?” She couldn’t imagine herself yelling at a monk.
“You did. By this time, I had turned to watch what was happening, and I saw everything. You looked furious, and I assumed you were the parent of at least one of the children.”
Yang’s look was questioning, but she shook her head. She had known the boys, but shared no blood.
Yang shrugged. “Regardless, what happened next happened so fast, I’m still not sure I understand it exactly. Zhou attacked you with the third sign. He was a strong monk—several orders stronger than me. I feared his blast would kill you. In fact, I was certain of it.”
Yang stopped his story and Bai realized she was almost leaning all the way over the table. The monk didn’t look like he wanted to share the rest.
Lei gently encouraged him. “It’s okay.”
Yang swallowed and continued. “The power that flattened Galan, it came from you. I can’t explain why, but when Zhou attacked, it unleashed something greater than I’ve ever felt before. I felt your power swelling and had just enough time to form a shield. Fortunately, I was already next to a building, which provided me some shelter.”
Yang stared down at the table. “You screamed, like you were in indescribable agony. I’ve never heard so much pain in a person’s voice.”
Yang looked up, and Bai understood now why he held such terror in his eyes. Why he had run when he saw her again. He paused to let it sink in, then finished his story.
“Bai, you’re the one who destroyed Galan.”
18
When Delun left the monastery the next day, there was no sign of his mysterious would-be assassin. He suspected the woman had either been injured or killed. Kang’s assault had been vicious. Surviving it would have been no small feat. He had to admit, though, some small part of him was disappointed to have lost his shadow.
In the work Delun performed, he had more chance than most to encounter people who wanted to destroy the monasteries. As a point of fact, seeking out such people and killing them formed the basis of most of his adult life. What he had learned was that when it came to insurrection, there were no shortage of leaders who talked loudly and charismatically. There were far fewer capable of doing anything meaningful.
He’d lost track of the number of times he’d come across a rebel promising revolution. They all blended together in his memories, people who were dissatisfied with the systems that ran their lives. They spoke loudly about change and power, but their words were empty. Most often, when Delun killed them, the movement fell apart in a matter of days. Without the mouthpiece stirring up trouble, most citizens went back to their daily existence, their dreams denied.
The Golden Leaf felt different. Like so many others, they stood opposed to the monastery. The similarities ended there. Unlike most movements, they didn’t seem to have a public leader. As near as
Delun could tell, he wasn’t even certain they had many members. If they did, he would have discovered some in town.
If the attitude of the average Kulat citizen was any indicator, though, the arguments of the Golden Leaf had plenty of supporters. Delun thought of hidden currents underneath the waters. On the surface, the waters of Kulat seemed calm. There were no rallies, no demonstrations, no outright violence prior to last night. But under the surface, discontentment stirred, ready to suck the monks into the murky depths.
Delun left the monastery just long enough to confirm that he was no longer being followed. He didn’t dare risk remaining in town for too long, especially in his robes. Not only was he left alone by his shadow, but by Kang as well. He wanted to seize the opportunity to unravel the mystery of the Golden Leaf, but felt caution was more warranted today. Too many questions could pull him into the hidden currents below, and if the Golden Leaf had more warriors like the woman, he wasn’t prepared to face their wrath yet. He turned back to the monastery, his mind churning.
Last night had been instructive. He’d learned the Golden Leaf had access to warriors willing and possibly able to kill monks. He’d learned that they considered him enough of a threat to try and kill him, breaking their otherwise non-violent streak. Unfortunately, he’d learned little else.
He could almost feel the pattern underneath the chaos. The attack in Galan, the former monk, Lei, hiding in the mountains, and the ambush the night before. All of it was connected. There was no coincidence. But he couldn’t see the thread that ran between the events.
He suspected he and Kang had played into the Golden Leaf’s hands with the ambush. In the time since, the mood in the town had become even more intense. Seven people had died in Kang’s attacks. Delun didn’t know if that meant six innocents and one assassin, or seven innocents. No one in town had anything to offer the monks but angry glares, and Guanyu had placed a temporary ban on monks leaving the monastery grounds. Delun had to pull rank on the monk at the gate so he could leave.
If they had stood at the edge of a precipice before, now they dangled off the edge, hanging by their fingers.
Delun recognized he and Kang had been put in a situation where they were almost guaranteed to lose. If the assassin had gotten one of them, it would have been a victory for the Golden Leaf. As it was, even though they hadn’t died, their retaliation acted as free propaganda for the Golden Leaf’s aims. It had been damn clever.
Delun returned to the monastery courtyard and climbed the stairs leading up to the walls, looking over Kulat. For a town that felt as though it was on the edge of eruption, the streets sounded remarkably quiet. Repair work was being performed in the streets surrounding the monastery, and while citizens didn’t come too close to the monastery walls, they didn’t avoid this area of town completely.
He felt a presence approach. Turning slightly, he saw Guanyu come and stand next to him. “What thoughts run through your mind?”
Delun gestured out over the city. “The Golden Leaf, and the danger of underestimating an enemy.”
Guanyu scoffed. “Nonsense. They might be more organized than some, but against the monasteries, what chance do they have?”
Delun looked over at Guanyu, surprised to see a complete lack of any subtlety on his face. The abbot truly believed the monasteries were without weakness. Delun’s faith was strong, but he also believed any system could fall. He bit back his reply, asking a question instead. “Have you considered lifting the ban on leaving the monastery?”
“That’s why I’m here. Tomorrow morning, we are going to march out on the city in force.”
Delun forced his face to remain neutral. If the fuse to the powder keg that was Kulat hadn’t been lit already, Guanyu sounded determined to light it himself. Delun managed to keep his voice even, barely. “Are you certain that’s wise? There are many out there who are angry at us.”
“All the more reason for the display. The city needs to know we are here to protect it.”
“Thank you for informing me.”
The abbot’s purpose complete, he nodded and left.
Delun wasn’t sure he’d ever found himself in a situation where he both agreed and disagreed so strongly with an abbot. He admired Guanyu’s vision and the manner in which he ran the monastery. But his pride created a blind spot in his thinking. This action was unwise.
He sighed. At least the display would give him an opportunity. With all the movement, he could wear traveling clothes and sneak out of the monastery. He needed to find the leader of the Golden Leaf before they could complete their plans, and he couldn’t do it trapped behind these walls.
The next morning, Delun set aside the robes of a monk and put on pants and a tunic. A cloak covered him up, and he gathered in the courtyard with the rest of the monks. His clothing earned him a few glares. The monks at Kulat were proud of their monastery and their role in society. They viewed his choice as a betrayal of sorts.
He didn’t think they were wrong. The white robes of a monk were ultimately only clothes. But they meant much more. When Delun wore his robes, he wanted to be a better person. He represented the monasteries, the beacons that had guided the empire for generations. They were all the armor he needed.
Delun ignored the stares. To protect his brothers he needed to separate himself. He’d come to peace with that long ago.
Fortunately, Kang stood near Guanyu at the head of the procession. The big man wouldn’t be a problem today. Delun stood near the back of the column, waiting for the march to begin. Once they opened the gates, he’d slip away from the rear of the procession and make his way into the city. He would return to the monastery when his work was done.
The gates swung open, ponderous and heavy. Up front, Guanyu gave some speech to the monks about their duty to protect the town and the empire. Delun heard the words, but they didn’t quite register. His mind was on the Golden Leaf. His eyes wandered over the monks, their faces set with stony determination. Though he didn’t quite see eye to eye with Guanyu, the man had created a formidable group of monks. Delun respected his work.
The march began. The monks marched side by side, the column two wide and nearly thirty long. Even Delun admitted the sight of so many white-robed figures was impressive. It was a bold enemy that would face such a force. Even a lord’s army would quake at the sight.
He reminded himself that the Golden Leaf wouldn’t meet the monks on a field of battle. Their methods belonged to the shadows, to whispers passed between friends over drinks. All the brute force in the world wouldn’t end such a movement.
Guanyu led them from the gate and turned left, running parallel to the monastery walls. Delun had heard that the abbot planned on leading the monks up the main street that ran through the heart of Kulat, then would circle back to the monastery on another street.
As soon as he stepped beyond the gate, Delun looked for an exit. There was a smaller side street, not far from the gate. Delun could cross the street and be there in a few seconds. He looked around, but no one paid him any attention. Behind him, the gates of the monastery began to close.
Delun split off from the column, crossing the street to the buildings across from the monastery wall. He was about to walk down the side street when movement caught his eye. He stopped, watching as the column marched farther away from him. Maybe three blocks away, a young man walked briskly.
Perhaps it was nothing, but something about that walk raised the hairs on the back of Delun’s neck. It was perfectly normal for a person to move out of the way of an advancing monk. But this walk wasn’t just an attempt to step aside. The man was trying to get away, to put distance between himself and the column.
Delun’s eyes traveled over the column and the area, looking for something else out of place.
Then he saw the construction in the street. Barrels sat unattended as the monks walked by, not sparing the work area the slightest glance.
But in-between the marching monks, Delun could see that the worksite was abandoned.
His body put the pieces together, and he stepped forward, about to yell out a warning, when the barrels exploded.
He didn’t have enough warning to throw up a shield. The blast knocked him down, but at his distance, he was safer than most of the monks. Even as he fell back, he knew his only injury would be his pride.
Before the debris had even settled, Delun saw movement in the buildings opposite the monastery walls. Tiny streaks of darkness launched from the windows, and Delun heard new cries of pain.
Then Delun felt Kang’s energy, massive and enraged. As if stuck in his nightmare a second time, Delun watched as Kang flung wave after wave of energy into the buildings. Some walls cratered in, others fell completely. Soon, Kang was joined by other monks who had survived.
Delun stood frozen. He wanted revenge for his brothers, but it seemed his brothers were more than capable of taking their own. Delun didn’t see any more arrows, but the monks continued to fling their powers into the buildings, destroying what little remained of the walls.
Behind Kang, Guanyu gathered monks together. Delun could sense the shields forming, protecting the monks from more harm. The monks’ attacks slowed and then stopped, the disaster over.
Then a single arrow darted out from the buildings. It was stopped by the shields, falling to the ground without coming close to a monk.
The monks’ reaction, though, was devastating. Every able-bodied monk attacked the area, crushing the building into fine dust. The assault lasted long after it should have ended, monks throwing out their attacks until they wearied themselves to the bone. It occurred to Delun that if he had planned the attack, he might have prepared another wave. In their exhausted state, the monks would have fallen like wheat before the scythe.
Nothing else came, however. An eerie quiet fell over the street, not because it was silent, but after the explosion and the destruction of the surrounding buildings, the moaning of men and the shuffling of feet could barely be heard.
