Heart of Defiance

by Ryan Kirk

Bai opened her eyes in surprise. She could still feel the power surrounding her, could feel her fist practically shaking with unspent energy.

  But she had trusted Lei this far.

  Bai swung at the center of the tree, as hard as she could.

  Her fist slammed through the heart of the tree, causing wood to explode in every direction. The tree tipped over, crashing to the ground as the remainder of the trunk cracked loudly. Bai looked at her hand, expecting to see a bloody mess. Instead, she saw that her hand was unharmed, without so much as even a splinter inside. She shook her head in wonder.

  Lei stepped up next to her, a look of awe on his face. He looked at where the tree had stood, then turned and grinned at Bai.

  “Well, that went better than I expected.”

  22

  Delun approached the hall of healing, feeling like a fraud. Two guards stood at the door, bleary-eyed men from the city watch who had no doubt volunteered for the additional duty. The guards recognized him, giving him a short bow of appreciation as he passed them.

  When he stepped into the hall, his steps slowed. The air had a different quality here. Beyond the walls, in Kulat, the air felt thick with the tension of the past few days. In here, he breathed easier, his purpose clear and simple. The halls were packed with people, many of them volunteers like himself. Now that the initial chaos had died down, all that remained was the practiced and unhurried efficiency of those who knew what needed to be done.

  Delun found a healer. The man was practically an elder, but still moved with a vigor that men half his age would have envied. His silver hair hadn’t slowed his mind or his step one bit. “How can I best be of service today?”

  The healer looked around the hall. Delun’s gaze followed. Men and women lay scattered wherever there was room. As crowded as the building was today, three days ago had been much worse. Those with injuries quickly mended were already back at home, and those with the most grievous of injuries had already died. The patients that remained lived somewhere in-between, with wounds that still required consistent attention.

  Delun had stopped attempting to give name to the mix of emotions he felt as he saw what his brothers had done. He’d silently threatened to avenge the innocent himself. He’d shed tears alone in his room as he remembered the devastation that had occurred right in front of him. After days of dashing from one emotional extreme to the other, all that was left was hollow emptiness, carved out by disbelief.

  As his eyes wandered over the hall he saw that two of the beds that had been occupied were now empty. Knowing how shattered those particular patients had been, Delun could easily guess the end of their story.

  The healer’s voice broke his reverie. “There’s not much more to be done. In another day, our staff will be able to handle the wounded without volunteers. Feel free to speak with those whom you have befriended, and offer what comfort you can. Many here have become attached to you.”

  Delun nodded and stepped forward, stopping when the healer laid a gentle hand on his arm. “And thank you for the service you’ve given these last few days. We’ve all appreciated your perseverance and spirit. You will always be welcome here, either as visitor or patient.”

  Delun gave the healer a deep bow and the man returned to his work. Would the healer feel the same if he knew Delun was a monk? Or would the gratitude turn to hate in a heartbeat? Delun suspected he knew the answer, but hoped he never had to find out for sure.

  He wandered from bed to bed, speaking softly with one patient after another. One man thought he would be able to return home again soon, his eyes twinkling as he spoke about his young daughter waiting for him. An older woman, unconscious, wheezed with difficulty as she slept. The healers believed she wouldn’t survive. Delun knelt down next to her and held her hand, feeling the wrinkles as he gently ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

  It didn’t take long for him to finish his rounds, and with nothing more useful to contribute, Delun was forced to think about leaving the peaceful walls of the hall.

  After delaying for a few more minutes, he finally stepped out into Kulat. The bright midday sun caused him to blink rapidly as he came out of the dim hall. Though summer was just beginning, the day already felt hot and sticky. Looking left and right, Delun decided to visit the birds.

  His thoughts wandered as he ambled down the street. They’d been harder to control lately, and at times, sudden awareness would stab into Delun, and he’d realize that he’d walked for blocks without paying the slightest attention to his surroundings. His training was deeply embedded in his routines, but he’d been far too distracted as of late.

  Some part of him knew he should care more. Even though he wore unremarkable clothes and stayed at an inn, he was still a monk investigating a serious threat to the monasteries. The Golden Leaf had marked him before, and very well could again.

  But even that threat against his life felt petty now. For the first time in his life, he doubted. Ever since he’d been young, he’d believed in the monasteries. He’d killed for the monasteries. He still would. His conscience didn’t bother him on that point.

  Guanyu’s actions, though, were another matter. Above all else, Delun believed the monasteries existed to serve the people. Sometimes, that service meant taking control. The monasteries could provide guidance that lifted the people up, sometimes unwillingly.

  Delun had killed. He had tortured men without blinking. He’d done both on this trip alone. He didn’t delude himself over his actions. He had taken fathers away from children, brother away from brother. What he did was horrible, but it served a greater good. The monasteries protected so many; it was worth the suffering of a few to ensure that protection.

  That philosophy had steadied Delun’s hand for many years.

  But Delun never attacked the innocent. Everyone he fought was involved in a plot to destroy or harm the monasteries. He never could have imagined doing what Guanyu had.

  In short, he found Guanyu’s orders despicable, but didn’t know how he should respond. Ultimately, their goals were similar, if not identical. Delun didn’t like what Guanyu did, but he knew plenty of monks who felt that way about his own actions as well. Delun believed he should do something, but the idea of working against a monastery, even a misguided one, was anathema to him.

  Delun stopped walking and looked around, noticing his surroundings for the first time since leaving the hall of healing. He had no idea where he was. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten himself lost in the past few days.

  He followed the sound of voices until he came out on a major street. A sweeping glance told him where he was, and he looked for anyone following him. He didn’t notice anyone, but that didn’t surprise him. A tail gave themselves away as one moved from one place to another. Standing still, any of the people in the street could be following him and he’d have little idea. He needed to stop losing focus. He turned on his heel and resumed his journey.

  The last few days had been spent doing what good he could. He helped in the healing house and made halfhearted efforts to infiltrate the Golden Leaf. Part of that investigation led him to the local messenger. He searched for any messages labeled “Truth,” as the tall man in the alley had spoken about so long ago, but no matter how many times he visited, he saw nothing amiss. Once, he considered revealing his identity and interrogating the owner of the shop, but after the Massacre of Kulat, as it was being called by the locals, he found that his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t want to blow his cover.

  He found the shop with little effort and hid the true purpose of his visit by writing a short message back to Taio. It said little, as there was little to say. He’d already informed Taio of the massacre. Part of him hoped to receive new orders, but he suspected none would come. The problem was his to solve.

  “Two Bridges?” the clerk asked, now used to Delun’s routine.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a long way from home.”

  It was the first time the clerk had said anything beyond matt
ers of business, but Delun wasn’t feeling conversational. He simply nodded. That was how he felt, too.

  He looked for any messages that had “Truth” or anything else out of the ordinary, but saw nothing. It had been a slim hope. Without more aggressive investigation, Delun didn’t think the shop would provide any leads. But he was running out of ideas.

  He stepped outside the shop, not sure what else to do for the day. Lacking purpose, he decided to wander the streets of Kulat.

  For all his efforts, Delun couldn’t stir up any other leads, either. From the hushed conversations inside the inn, there was little doubt as to the public’s attitude regarding the monasteries. But at the same time, he hadn’t heard more than a whisper about the Golden Leaf. But the group had to be active. Kulat had become a hotbed of anti-monastic thought, and that didn’t happen just by chance.

  His abject failure proved one thing to him absolutely, though. The Golden Leaf was small, perhaps no more than a close-knit group of friends. A few words spoken to a crowd here, some gold paid to triads there, and it wouldn’t be hard to create the impression of a much larger conspiracy. Nothing had happened yet, as far as Delun could tell, that truly required the resources of more than a few people. The black powder was expensive, but all that told him was that the Golden Leaf had access to money. Actually setting the trap and lighting it wouldn’t take many people to organize. Finding men good with a bow and willing to shoot at a monk didn’t seem like a particularly challenging task in Kulat.

  Delun also believed the rise of the Golden Leaf here wasn’t a coincidence. Guanyu’s policies had created the ideal conditions for resentment to grow. It served as another reminder that this type of monastery created more problems than it solved.

  He spent an hour wandering the streets, stopping at one restaurant he’d come to enjoy for their food. Kulat’s monastery had served poor meals, and one advantage to living on his own was the opportunity to enjoy a good meal. He ate with pleasure, watching the other patrons.

  Monks shouldn’t separate themselves as much as they did. Delun recognized the importance of solitude for training. Minds and bodies didn’t develop without time and effort. Having the time and space to engage in the difficult monastic training was important. But it bred a certain attitude, a detachment and aloofness from the rest of society. That was dangerous. Delun had never worried about it quite as much as he did now.

  Being among the people eased the problem. Hate could only stem from ignorance. It was difficult to detest someone you knew, someone you had spent time with. As he looked around the room at the people eating, he couldn’t imagine turning his strength against them.

  With a soft sigh, he stood up after his meal and began the journey back to his inn. Another day had passed and the noose around the neck of Kulat seemed to grow tighter. He had accomplished nothing of note. A mug of beer at the inn sounded suddenly appealing, more than one ever had before. He’d have one, then retire for the evening. Perhaps tomorrow he would have better luck.

  At the inn, Delun wondered at his beer. What would Taio say if he saw his prize monk drinking with the commoners? When he’d been a little younger, Delun had told himself he needed to drink to blend in on some of his assignments. Now that he was older and slightly less sensitive to criticism, he acknowledged that although he detested the taste, he enjoyed the feeling of relaxation it provided.

  Finishing his drink, Delun stood up. He took the stairs two at a time, glancing behind him to ensure no one paid too much attention to him. No one did. He went to his room, a small affair that was far less than he could afford, thanks to the money Taio had given him. But old habits died hard, and he didn’t see the need for more space than he could use.

  He opened the door and stepped in, ready for a long night of rest. He barely noticed when the shadow detached itself from one corner of the room and slid after him.

  At any other time, he might have been ready. If he hadn’t been distracted by thoughts he couldn’t control, and if he hadn’t stopped for a beer, his reaction might have been quick enough. Few people got the drop on Delun.

  All he could do was stand there, shocked, as the shadow grew in his vision, a hand coming up and down, aimed straight at his temple. He was so surprised, he didn’t even think to duck.

  Delun collapsed, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

  23

  Bai felt the power fill every part of her body from the tips of her fingers to the center of her chest. Like a water skin, filled beyond capacity, she wasn’t sure if she could hold any more.

  She wanted to hate it.

  This was the power that had killed her mother and had taken more than a dozen innocent lives.

  But she felt alive. More than ever before.

  Her body, or at least her senses, were changing. Colors seemed sharper, her skin became more sensitive, and sounds, even those at a distance, were clearer. When she and Lei finished their training at night and she released the deep wells of energy she had collected, she felt empty and dull.

  Had that been the way she had lived her entire life?

  Bai formed the first sign, released the excess energy into the skies above. She still felt powerful, but in control. That last attack from Lei had been stronger than anything she’d absorbed before.

  Bai wanted to hate the techniques she was learning.

  But she couldn’t.

  All she could do was hate herself for loving this power.

  When she had started this training, she told herself it was so she would never hurt people again.

  She had learned enough to keep others safe days ago. Now, if the strength and connection that flowed through her reacted to another, she could channel that energy away, fling it up into the sky if nothing else.

  But Bai remained in the village, accepting Lei’s continued guidance. He taught her more about the powers she possessed. His skills were not like hers. His were the skills of the monastery, honed to an edge few others had ever achieved. Her abilities were something different. Something Lei didn’t think the monasteries had ever seen.

  “Once more, please.” She stood, balanced on the balls of her feet, ready for the fight.

  Lei’s look was incredulous. “We’ve been training for hours. I do have other tasks besides training you.”

  “One more time. Harder.”

  He shook his head. “If I go much harder, a mistake would kill you.”

  She didn’t respond, her look answer enough.

  After their time together, she thought she understood Lei. He hid up in the mountains, supposedly unattached to the cares of the world. Bai didn’t believe him. He sheltered rebels and was well aware of everything happening throughout the empire.

  She didn’t believe Lei was a hermit. She believed he was biding his time. He was waiting, even if he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. No one trained as hard as he did without some reason, conscious or otherwise.

  She couldn’t have asked for a better teacher. He couldn’t train her in his techniques because they didn’t work for her. He could make a single sign with his hand and blow a centuries-old tree clean in half. She could summon the same power from the world around her, but at best she’d knock a few leaves from the tree. She couldn’t manifest the power externally, the way so many monks did, but she had other skills.

  Lei guided her discovery. Some of what he knew was useful, especially the ways in which he could manipulate internal energies. That seemed to be where their abilities aligned best.

  Like her, he was aware she had learned everything she had set out to learn initially. But he kept training her, driven by some of the same curiosity. What was she capable of?

  So he stood up from his rest, despite the fact they had sparred all morning. “Very well, then. I’ll give you everything I’ve got short of using a weapon.”

  Bai nodded, excitement pounding in her heart.

  Just then, she felt another presence. It was nowhere near as strong as Lei’s, but the fact that she could sense it mea
nt it could only be the one person she didn’t want to see.

  Yang climbed up into the clearing, a broad smile on his face. “I figured I would come say my farewells before departing.”

  Lei gave the monk a knowing grin. “And you wanted to see what all the fuss was about?”

  Yang looked like a child caught in the act. “Perhaps,” he answered with a sly grin.

  “You’re in luck, then. Bai and I were going to have one last training session for the day.” Lei put added emphasis on the word “last.”

  With that, Lei focused his energy. Bai felt an attack forming in his left hand and a shield with his right.

  Their matches had become something of a deep strategic game. They’d sparred often enough now that both knew what the other could do. Bai knew Lei’s attack wouldn’t harm her much, just as the shield would only slow her down for a second. But Lei knew the same, and had found some creative ways to use his powers against her.

  Bai summoned more energy into herself, a practice that was now almost as easy as breathing. Before Lei could take the offensive, she leaped forward, angling from side to side so Lei couldn’t get an easy attack off.

  Lei waited until Bai was ten paces away, then released his attack. He hadn’t aimed at her torso, but at her feet.

  The trick was old. Bai’s body easily absorbed most of the strength of attacks, but sometimes a little nudge to the feet was enough to get her to fall. She’d tripped often enough to learn from her mistakes.

  Bai leaped into the air, still amazed she could jump such distances with ease. She moved her power to her feet to cushion the landing.

  Lei didn’t dodge as she expected him to. Instead, he swiped his shield around, catching her feet with that. She absorbed the energy, but not before the shield imparted its momentum. Bai’s world spun as she flipped uncontrollably in midair.

  She didn’t panic. Time moved differently for her, and she’d gotten intimately familiar with what her body could do over the last week. She saw the rocky ground coming up to meet her as her head plummeted down. With a thought, her energy moved to her right hand and arm.