The Mark (Chi Warriors Book 1) Page 18

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  THEY RODE MOST of the morning in relative peace. The trail sloped gently up toward the mountains, exposed on the left to the open mountainside and covered with forest on the right. This offered them some degree of protection, limiting the directions from which the enemy could sneak up and attack. Li and Tae only had to scout the forest to the right of them, while Wong and Genji searched the trail ahead. Han, whose large frame made him a poor scout, remained behind with Kai and the yu-mee keeper; and though they did not say so aloud, they also wanted to spare his yu-mee the extra workload required for scouting. Zhozang guarded them from the rear. He did not put much effort into it since he did not expect the enemy to catch up to them so quickly.

  Shortly after noon, they stopped at a peak in the trail where the landscape began to change. There would soon be forest on both sides. Although the climb on the trail had been relatively gentle, they pushed their yu-mees harder than usual, and an entire morning’s ride had taken its toll. The animals needed rest, so they took a break in a clearing.

  They unpacked some of their more perishable foods for lunch and took seats on a fallen log. The yu-mees were left to forage for food on their own, as they were able to digest much of the leafy vegetation found within the forest.

  Wong branched off earlier and had not yet returned from his scout.

  “I wonder if we should have waited for Wong?” Tae said.

  “He should be just beyond that thicket over there and returning soon,” Li said. “He’ll find us once he sees that the landscape is changing. We shouldn’t waste any time needlessly.”

  “He’s already here,” Kai said, pointing.

  Just as Kai indicated, Wong appeared. He rode over and released his yu-mee to forage with the others. His lackadaisical approach suggested that his scout had been relatively uneventful.

  “How does it look?” Li inquired.

  “Quiet. There doesn’t seem to be a force out here yet.”

  “That’s good. I didn’t expect there to be. But deeper in the range, past the rope bridges and Yaje Piau—”

  “We mean to ride the transport at Yaje Piau?” Genji asked.

  “Our priority is to make contact with the temple there first. We can decide about the transport later, but it would save us time.”

  A curious look came across Kai’s face. “What’s that?”

  “The transport?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The transport of Yaje Piau is a bridge of sorts. You can cross the ridges of two mountains and a river by riding on a carriage suspended by ropes of Yaje silk. It’s as if you’re a cloud floating above a great river.”

  Kai’s attention piqued at the thought of an air trolley.

  “I’ve never been on it,” Tae said. “Only seen it.”

  “Why not?” Zhozang asked.

  “Too expensive. I take a boat across.”

  “I don’t believe you will have to pay this time,” Han said.

  “I could get used to that,” she said with a smile.

  Han grinned back, but then furrowed his brow with more serious thought. “It will save us more than a day of travel to the nearest pass . . . to descend and climb it, but we will be vulnerable hanging from a rope. Are you sure it is a wise decision?”

  “I do not think the enemy will be watching for it,” Li said. “I ordered the transport shut down so they could not use it to cross. But even so, I am not certain we have a choice. An extra day in the forest may prove regretful.”

  Li reflected on Han’s warning and took his point to heart. He sought validation from Wong.

  “What do you say, brother?”

  Wong was caught off guard. “Huh?”

  “The transport?”

  “Oh yeah. I’d take it. It’s worth the risk over descending into the valley, I think.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Han looked irritated. “He barely gave it a second of thought.”

  “I thought about it for a whole two seconds,” Wong countered. “A day of wasted progress is too much. The Koon Gee near Guilin will find a way across the river and we’ll lose any advantage we have . . . I bet Kai would rather ride the transport. Wouldn’t you, Kai?”

  “Yeah! Transport!” he beamed.

  “That settles it,” Genji said. “The marked one speaks.”

  They packed their belongings and were off once again. From here the landscape would change drastically. They paused for a moment at the footsteps of an incline and prepared for a more arduous climb.

  Thick forest covered both sides of the trail. The dirt path intricately wound around trees and pockets of vegetation. Progress was slow, but steady. Though gnarled roots cropped up and overtook the road at points, the yu-mees were able to claw their way around them.

  The scouting party spread out once again, though Tae, Li, and Genji remained much closer to the path than before. Because of the density of the forest, they were careful not to scout far off, lest they lose track of their surroundings and have difficulty finding their way back. Wong, however, disappeared for great lengths of time since he could always rely on his ability to find them through the mark.

  At one point, Wong left his yu-mee behind, claiming it was slowing him down too much. He also joked that Han needed it to relieve his own creature’s workload lest it die of exhaustion.

  Sometimes, Wong’s silhouette would appear ahead of them in the path and disappear again. Other times he would leave a mark on a tree that only Li could decipher—a practice they often performed as children to communicate with one another. But more often than not, they would spot him in a tree, sitting and waiting for them. Tae found it reminiscent of their travels through the Stone Forest.

  Li would anxiously look for signs of his brother after long spells away and secretly breathe a sigh of relief when he saw him. He worried that Wong would stumble across a horde of Koon Gee and foolishly take them on instead of reporting back. Under most circumstances, he would expect him to do so without fear or worry, but not now, when they were so close to his prophecy of death.

  Higher up the mountain, the trail tapered and forest gave way to exposed rock. The path narrowed to the point where they had to travel single file, so they relinquished their animals to the yu-mee keeper for transport back to Guilin. Though the beasts had saved them much time and energy, they were too large to manage through the narrow paths ahead. They thanked the yu-mee keeper and wished him well. He hurried off quickly, eager to make it back home before nightfall.

  Watching the yu-mees disappear behind them, they turned to continue on with their own strength. The path was difficult, and they found themselves yearning for their animals after only a short stint.

  During one particularly treacherous pass along a cliff wall, Han crossed sideways because his body was too wide to proceed normally. He accidentally kicked a pebble off the ledge and watched it fall into oblivion.

  “A fine path you have chosen for us, Li,” he grumbled.

  “Unfortunately, the quicker path is the more difficult one,” Li said.

  “There is a bright side,” Genji added. “The Koon Gee can’t attack us up here.”

  Han’s silence affirmed Genji’s observation. The sumo looked at the narrow crevice they traveled on, and then down into the abysmal gorge below; given the difficulty of the terrain, attack by the enemy was unlikely. Still, he did not feel better. The danger of a dagwai army was preferable to that of a crumbling mountain ledge.

  After crossing several more dangerous paths, they came across something that made Han feel even worse—a feebly constructed rope bridge. Three ropes were strung across a deep ravine, one to walk on and the other two to hold onto for support. Thin support lines connected the three main lines to each other, though at several points, the ropes looked frayed and worn. The wind picked up and the bridge swayed.

  “Thi
s day keeps getting better,” Han said.

  “I’m not sure it’ll even hold,” Zhozang mused.

  “It will hold,” Li said. “I crossed it on the way here. It’s frail, but it will hold.”

  He stepped onto the bridge and grabbed the support lines.

  “Move slowly and carefully,” he said, proceeding forward.

  Tae waited for Li to reach a third of the way before she followed behind, wanting to distribute their weight so the ropes wouldn’t bow too badly. She stepped lively.

  Wong placed Kai on his shoulders and told him not to look down. He looked back at Han, who was staring sheepishly down the cliff.

  “Are you going to be okay? I can carry you on my shoulders too.”

  “If not for Kai, you’d already be falling headfirst into the ravine.”

  Wong grinned. “See you on the other side.”

  He waited for Tae to reach a safe distance and followed. Traversing the cable was relatively easy for him. Halfway through, he felt Kai lean forward and look down.

  “Waaaaahh,” Kai said as he gazed at the treetops far beneath their feet.

  “I thought I told you not to look down,” Wong said.

  Looking to the right and left of them in either direction, Kai could see for many miles. He spread his arms apart and felt like a bird.

  “What are you doing up there?” Wong asked.

  Kai playfully slapped at his head as if it were a drum, and held his arms around his face.

  “Kai, it’s probably not a good idea for you to cover my eyes.”

  He laughed at the child’s exuberance, surprised that he was not more afraid.

  Next, Genji followed, and then Zhozang. When it was finally Han’s turn, he took a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves. He waited for Zhozang to make it past the halfway point, knowing that his weight would bow the rope even more than the others.

  Finally, he stepped onto the rope. It shifted underneath his foot, causing him to clutch firmly on the support line to stabilize his balance. He felt free to curse aloud since Kai was no longer within earshot. Because his feet were so much larger than everyone else’s, balancing on the narrow cable was difficult.

  Slowly he started moving, finding it easier to move the further he went. Halfway through, a strong gust of wind swayed the ropes and caused him to slip. He caught himself by the arms with the support cables while his feet dangled midair. Tae gasped at the far end, but Han quickly regained his footing and stood tall once again. When he reached the other side, he was greeted with smiles.

  “What are you looking at?” he said.

  They continued to smile without saying a word.

  Before leaving, Li took out a dagger and walked over to a support post.

  “Are you sure?” Wong said. “There’s no turning back.”

  “I’m sure. I don’t think we could turn back even if we wanted to.”

  He severed the lines on the bridge and watched them fall away. The sight of the now rope-less gap punctuated the permanence of his decision. He wondered how long the bridge lasted before it fell to his dagger.

  “At least nobody will be following,” Zhozang said.

  “Agreed, but there are other ways around,” Li said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Several hours later, the terrain shifted again. The earth slanted downward, directing them toward more level ground. It was early evening, and the sun had already set. Soon there would be no daylight at all.

  The thought of it gave Tae the creeps.

  “Will we find a place to camp, or are we traveling through the night?” she asked.

  “The temple at Yaje Piau is only a couple hours away. We’ll continue on until we reach it,” Li said.

  He paused and looked around him, taking stock of his surroundings.

  “There doesn’t seem to be any Koon Gee on this side of the mountains. Perhaps we can afford some peace for a night.”

  “But this is still high ground,” Han said. “There are easier roads that lead into Yaje Piau ahead. It’s more likely the enemy would be there than up here.”

  “It’s possible, but the monks and guardians of Yaje Piau are on high alert.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Wong said. “Let me scout ahead and make sure.”

  He drew his samurai blade from its sheath.

  Li questioned him with a look, conveying a sense that he thought it was unnecessary. “I think—”

  “While there is light out,” Wong said, instantly taking off ahead of them.

  “—you should not take any more unnecessary risks,” Li trailed off.

  He grinned. In all these years, his brother hadn’t changed a bit. Wong would always be re-invigorated toward the end of the day, when the sun set and the first evening chill could be felt. He knew there was nothing he could do to convince him to sit still when the moment hit.

  “Shall I follow?” Genji asked.

  “I doubt even you could catch him now.”

  “He has more energy than all of Shunnan combined,” Tae quipped.

  “Including me,” Han said. “I am ready to turn back to Guilin.” He looked at Kai. “And you, little one. How are you doing?”

  To his surprise, Kai was not tired, but examining a rock picked up from the ground. He tossed it into the forest.

  “Okay,” Kai responded as he stooped to look at another rock. This one he put in his pocket.

  By the sound of the jiggling rocks, Han could tell he had been doing this for quite some time. Evidently, his arm gauntlet had worn out his interest.

  “Amazing,” Han whispered off to the side with Li. “Most grown men couldn’t make this trip. But instead of being tired, he plays with rocks.”

  “Indeed. Though I should not be surprised.”

  Li noted how similar Kai was to his brother as a child. He was surprised to find himself suddenly saddened by the thought. Had he already accepted the prophecy of his brother’s death? He pushed the thought away and concentrated on the mission at hand.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Perhaps if Kai has the energy, we might pick up the pace a little? Before he runs out of room in his pockets?”

  Kai said he could handle it, so they set forth at a brisker pace. Li wanted to cover as much ground as possible in the dying light.

  They made good progress for a while, but were soon engulfed by darkness. The ground was level now and the trees had thinned out around them. The air was crisp and still. Leaves crackled underfoot and Kai began to tiptoe at points for fear of being heard. With all the noise they were making, little as it was, they seemed vulnerable and exposed to attack. Worst of all, Kai began to get that uneasy feeling he seemed to get when the enemy was near.

  “Shhh,” he implored as he tiptoed about.

  “Little one,” Zhozang said. “If the enemy is close enough to hear our footsteps, then they already know we’re here.”

  “One thing I have learned is that Kai does not overreact,” Tae said.

  She pulled out her ninja blade.

  Han thought about it for a moment and then reached for his war mace.

  “The child is a strange one.”

  Zhozang shook his head, doubtful of everyone’s caution. Genji slid his bow down from his shoulder to his hand, but did not reach for an arrow.

  They walked cautiously with Li leading the way. Their footsteps were still too loud for Kai, as every crackle underfoot seemed to give away their location. They were tenser now than at any point before. Kai extended the lever on his needle gauntlet.

  Ahead they saw Li’s shadow quickly stop and signal them to do likewise. He stood silent and motionless for what seemed like an eternity.

  Kai closed his eyes and concentrated on his other senses. A light breeze passed, cooling a bead of sweat that had trickled down his forehead. Li took a fe
w steps forward and the rest of the party slowly started to move, but Kai was still fixed in position, deep in concentration.

  Tae reached for his hand and guided him forward. “It’s all right. Stay close to me,” she whispered.

  “Something’s here,” he said.

  They traveled a few more steps, when Kai jerked back her hand. She quickly turned forward to warn Li, but he had already sensed something. He held up his hand to signal them to stop.

  Reaching back, he unsheathed the Sword of Shaolin.

  It was the first time anyone besides Han and Genji had seen it. It hummed in the air and shimmered in the moonlight as it moved. It was the legendary sword of the temple, forged in the mystical pool and passed down from generation to generation to fight endless hordes of the Koon Gee. As with the Dragon Arm, the weapon emanated a life force of its own; while the Dragon Arm bellowed a deep and powerful energy, like that of the dragon that forged it, the Shaolin Sword was crisp and sharp—pure and powerful like the temple’s waters.

  Li walked forward with both hands tightly fixed around the hilt of his blade. He moved carefully, step by step. Sensing movement just ahead of them, he held out his hand and a searing ball of white light flashed before them—an incarnation of his chi energy that hung suspended in the air.

  The light from the orb illuminated the forest and a voice called out to them.

  “Turn off the fireworks!” Wong said as he shielded his eyes.

  “I knew it was you,” Li said, putting the sword back in its sheath and letting the light orb dissipate. “You could have called out to us.”