"Warriors of the Midnight Sun" - Act II

Here is Act II of "Warriors of the Midnight Sun". Act 3 will be post next Friday.

Enjoy.

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“Warriors of the Midnight Sun”
© 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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ACT II

THE FARMER: Wherein Sinverguenza Kidnaps Inno, Daughter of Joto Ba and Dian; Shabar Joins with Wu Chan Chu; Balori Shongoyo Confronts the Demon-dog Yaska Selith

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CHAPTER 1

In far off lands where men grow rich with agriculture and politics there was the family Sengyu. Father Sengyu was quite the farmer and his wealth provided for his wife, Mother Sengyu, in the ways of status. Often she would host evening or afternoon teas while her husband and his people worked their massive farm and nannies cared for her only daughter, Dian.

Dian grew to be a beautiful girl and all the town loved her dearly. “She’ll make a fine princess for some royal man to marry,” would often be heard of her. She was smart in math and language and wise in the ways of the land, a skill she had learned from her father.

And though Dian understood the importance of her station and all that her parents afforded her in way of education and wealth, she disagreed with her mother in the matters of love. She disagreed largely in that Mother Sengyu had designs to arrange her marriage with a successful camel rancher whom Dian had never met. Instead, she secretly loved Joto Ba, one of her father’s men who worked in the fields.

One evening, a mere week prior to her crowning into womanhood upon her sixteenth birthday, Dian went forth into the fields to find her father. When she did, she asked her father if he would join her in a cup of afternoon tea. At first he said he was much too busy, but at last he joined her within the confines of one of the family’s many barns for tea.

“What is the real purpose of this?” Father Sengyu asked pleasantly as he poured tea for the both of them.

“Real purpose? What do you mean?” asked Dian.

“Come, come. We’ve not drawn tea together for nearly four years now. I can only imagine you bring me hear to discuss some matter with me and as your birthday approaches I can guess it has to do with that.”

Dian smiled. “I cannot possibly hide a thing from you.”

Father Sengyu smiled. “Not even your love for Joto Ba.”

At this revelation that her father knew of her secrets concerning Joto Ba she gasped. “Father! How did you know?”

“This is my farm, dear. I know everything that goes on here.”

She smiled at her father and said, “I wish to marry Joto Ba, not the camel man.”

Father Sengyu nodded. “I understand. But you’re mother has gone to great lengths to arrange this marriage for you.”

Dian sighed, sipping at her tea. “I know. But I’ve not even met the man! How could I be hid bride?”

“You will earn to love him. And, if nothing else, he will provide you children you will love.”

The thought of children troubled Dian. Her eyes clenched together. She felt herself on the verge of tears.

“Dear daughter, what’s the matter?” asked Father Sengyu. He could sense she was upset over more than the wedding.

“Father,” said Dain. “I have to marry Joto Ba.”

“No you don’t. What you feel is simple childish infatuation.”

Dian shook her head. “No father, it’s not that. It’s not that at all. I have to marry him for I carry his child in me as we speak.”

Father Sengyu puffed quietly upon his pipe a long time before answering. “I understand.”

“You’re not angry, are you?”

Father Sengyu shook his head. “No. I was simply thinking about how odd life can turn out. I’ve traveled a long way to be where I’m at and now I see my daughter starting on her own.”

“You’re not sad, are you?”

“A little, but no more than any other father who has just noticed her child has grown at some point without him. But I am not angry or sad about you,” he assured.

“Oh, father!” Dian flung herself from her seat and into her father’s arms. For a moment she cursed herself for being such a child, running into her father’s arms. But when his embrace closed around her, she no longer cared. Their embrace sent Dian into reminiscing her childhood when her father would hold her on his lap and read her stories before bedtimes. Often, she amused, he appeared more enthralled by the tales that she ever was.

“What of mother?” asked Dian.

“You need to tell her.”

“She won’t like it.”

“No,” said Father Sengyu. “She won’t.”

That night over dinner Dian told her mother she was pregnant with the child of one of Father Sengyu’s workers.

“What?” raged the mother. She rose and struck her daughter across the face. “After all we’ve done for you, you go and accept the seed of a lousy field worker?”

Mother Sengyu beat her daughter again and again. She chased the girl all through their home, throwing every object she could grab. She slapped her daughter’s face, her arms and pulled her hair, raging so loudly the workers within the home stepped outside, afraid.

All Dian could think of was protecting her child. She finally fell in the kitchen and curled up, her back to her mother so she could not slap her in the belly and harm the unborn child there.

Mother Sengyu picked a rather large and menacing meat cleaver from a butcher block and screamed, “Get up, you whore! You ungrateful whore, stand up! I’ll cut that bastard’s ugly, worthless child from you myself; then I’ll go out and cut off his manhood so he can never do this again!”

One of the workers, fearing Mother Sengyu would truly kill the unborn child or Dian, ran to find Father Sengyu. He came to the kitchen immediately.

“Get up!” screamed Mother Sengyu. She grabbed Dian’s arm, but found her own arm held fast by Father Sengyu’s hand.

“Get your filthy hands off me!” screamed Mother Sengyu. She swiped the knife at her husband, opening a bloody red wound upon his cheek.

Father Sengyu ignored his wound and grabbed his wife with both hands, crushing her wrists until she was made to drop the knife, clanking to the kitchen floor.

Dian sobbed wildly. A nanny came to her side and pulled her away, out of the kitchen.

Father Sengyu, when he saw some of the rage weaken in his wife’s eyes, let go of her. He said, “Our daughter is pregnant with our grandchild. We should be celebrating.”

“This is not how things were supposed to be,” said Mother Sengyu, the screamed so all the countryside could hear, “She’s an ungrateful whore!”

Father Sengyu slapped his wife across the face. She reeled in exaggerated horror and pain. She looked at him with disgust.

He stared calmly back, saying, “That’s our daughter you speak of.”

“I want her out of here! If she’s not out by dawn tomorrow I’ll kill her! I’ll kill you all!” Mother Sengyu screamed. She left her husband standing alone and quiet in the kitchen.

The next day Father Sengyu had his workers gather supplies and two horses. He brought Dian and Joto Ba to his side and handed them a pouch of money. He said, “I’m afraid she’s still quite angry. Perhaps it is best you leave for a time, until I get the chance to smooth matters over with her. Take these horses and money and go. I know the owner of the store in the nearest town. I’ve sent word I’m sending you to him. You can stay with him a day or two, after that I’m afraid you’ll have to make it on your own, but stay in touch. Send word where you’re at, wherever you go. I’ll let you know when you can return.”

“I’m sorry things turned out this way,” said Joto Ba. “I’m so very sorry.”

“I know,” said Father Sengyu. “Take care of her.”

Joto Ba’s eyes leveled with determination. “I will. That I promise you.”

Joto Ba and Dian mounted their horses.

“What about you, father? Won’t she take her hate out on you?” asked Dian.

“That is for me to cope with,” said Father Sengyu. “You’re mother has always been full of anger.”

“Then why stay with her? Come with us, or send her away.”

Father Sengyu shook his head. “My dear daughter, one day you will learn we each have our demons to contend with. It does no good to run from them.”

Dian looked at her father, wondering. She thought about the many times she had witnessed her mother in a rage, screaming at her father or the workers. She asked, “Father, have you ever been happy with her?”

Father Sengyu smiled. “Of course I have. She gave life to my daughter.”

Joto Ba lead the way as they left. Dian wept as she looked over her shoulder, watching her father who stood near the road.

Father Sengyu stood watching until he could no longer see the blurred image of his daughter and future son-in-law on the horizon. He stood watching a while longer before he breathed deep, said a pray to the many gods asking them to watch over his child and her husband-to-be, then turned and entered his home.

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CHAPTER 2

Joto Ba and Dian traveled many long months before finally settling in a region where they were able to use some of the money Father Sengyu had given them to buy some land and farm it. They sent word with a few travelers to let Father Sengyu know where they were, but they never heard back from him. They always wondered about him and their old life.

Joto Ba married Dian and they had a baby girl. They named her Inno, after Father Sengyu’s mother. They grew old together as their daughter grew up. Joto Ba grew strong and thin with working his farm. He grew grain in the hot sun. Joto Ba could often be found swinging his sickle in his fields.

Inno grew into a beautiful, fine young woman. She became the jewel of the countryside and all who met her immediately fell in love with her.

As Joto Ba had promised to love and care for Dian, so too did Dian secretly promise to love and care for Inno in a way she would never know anger, promising to be the best mother should could be. Dian succeeded in this. Inno was the pride of her parents.

As Inno grew to age, a week prior to her sixteenth birthday, three warriors came traveling through their country. Many rumored the devilry they were capable of as one wore bones upon his leather armor and another was a kestrel-headed Gifted One.

As it was night, Sinverguenza, Motharus and Renorio stopped by Joto Ba and Dian’s home to ask if they could stay the night.

Uncertain, Joto Ba felt it only right to offer them a warm place to stay. He invited them into their home.

As Dian fed the three strangers, Sinverguenza commented, “Your daughter is quite beautiful.”

Joto Ba, nervously, gave his thanks.

Sinvergueza not so secretly desired Inno. He eyed her all through dinner.

That night the house quietly slept, but the next morning, when Joto Ba and Dian awoke, they found their guests had snuck out in the early hours of the morning and with them they had taken their daughter.

“I cannot believe you allowed them into our home!” raged Dian.

Joto Ba, his eyes wide with fear, picked up his sickle and told his wife, “Remain here. I’ll go after them.”

Joto Ba gathered and mounted his horse and rode hard in the direction he knew them to be going. He rode on and on until he found them walking by the side of the road, Inno tied and gagged and being forced to walk ahead of them.

Joto Ba rode up swiftly, the sickle extended, and swung it at Sinverguenza who easily ducked the oncoming blow.

Motharus, who had been holding a rope tied about Inno’s waist, handed it over to Renorio and said, “Watch after her.”

Joto Ba turned his horse and charged once more.

Motharus lifted onto the air, bringing his knees up into the chest of Joto Ba as he rode near and knocking him free from his horse. The horse, without a rider, ran on and on and disappeared on the horizon.

Joto Ba stood, the sickle still in his hand. He swung it at Motharus who grabbed the implement and pulled it from his hands, throwing it to the ground.

“I’ll kill you all!” yelled Joto Ba, bringing his fists up, nervous and unknowing of what to do.

Sinverguenza picked up the implement. He brandished it with a smile. “So the farmer wishes to be a warrior. Know you how to fight? Haha! I can see in your eyes and how you hold yourself now you know nothing of fighting. Not that I’m a great fighter, but I can appreciate a good fight from a distance. For instance, my friend here, did you know he was once the champion at the Peony Tea House? He knows how to fight. His Muay Thai is good. Motharus, give this farmer a lesson in fighting.”

Motharus attacked. His punch cracked Joto Ba’s jaw. He followed the punch with an elbow to the head. Darkness filled Joto Ba’s vision and, as he fell, he felt as though he were floating away from his body.

Motharus and Sinverguenza both laughed as Joto Ba rolled on the ground, his hands at his head and eyes winced, moaning incoherently as his broken jaw refused to work, to give shape to his cries.

Sinverguenza approached the fallen farmer. “Get up, farmer! Your lesson is far from over!”

At this Sinverguenza drove the sickle down and into the chest of Joto Ba. The blade lodged into Joto Ba’s ribs and he cried out in pain as blood welled in his throat and spilled from his mouth. Sinverguenza pulled on the sickle’s handle and the lodged blade lifted Joto Ba off the ground from the waist up.

Motharus approached the farmer. He brought an elbow down onto Joto Ba’s head.

Joto Ba’s vision swam through darkness and sparkling, twinkling lights. He stopped moaning. Now he only grunted with every heavy, laborer breath.

Sinverguenza let go the sickle and Joto Ba dropped to the ground. He said, “Finish it, Motharus.”

Motharus lifted his leg backwards and kicked Joto Ba’s temple. The skull cracked. The farmer’s head flung back and his neck snapped.

As Sinverguenza and Motharus poked at Joto Ba to assure themselves of his death, Renorio gently caressed Inno. He leaned close to her and smelled her skin. His mouth worked, his tongue wetting his lips. He wondered if he could steal the young prize away from Sinverguenza. He was about to stick out his tongue, to taste the young girl when Sinverguenza’s approach made him stop.

Motharus grabbed the rope from Renorio. Neither he nor Sinverguenza suspected a thing and Renorio was glad for it.

The three traveled on, pushing their prize ahead of themselves.

Joto Ba’s body day lay motionless by the side of the road. It was to remain there for a full day before anyone would find it. And though the farmer’s life had ended, his afterlife was just beginning for deep within the Land of the Midnight Sun, Joto Ba appeared in a form that was dark and billowing. His eyes glowed red, as did a hole where once he had been stabbed in the chest with his own sickle.

Joto Ba looked at the creature sitting nearby, the creature sitting atop the Black Rock of Meditation.

“Welcome,” said the marmoset. “I am Momoki, Master of the Chamber of Despair. You have been chosen to ride with me in your afterlife against a demon-dog, a false demon called Yaska Seltih, and end his reign of blight upon the world.”

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CHAPTER 3

Shabar rode on. Storms had come to the land. It made his trek long and lonesome. He was soaked by the time he came to a small town where rumors abounded about a frog demi-goddess who was traveling east, after a demon of some kind. One person added he had heard in another village an elephant was leading men towards the same route. Shabar asked many questions and could only guess this frog and elephant – both apparently Gifted Ones – were heading for the same place and that the elephant was Balori.

This news drive him onward harder than ever.

Finally, days later, as the rains lightened, then stopped, he came across a small collection of men and women claiming to be warriors. At their center was a frog demi-goddess. He presented himself to her.

“I am Shabar. Once I was counsel to the Eternal Empress and oversaw the Elephant Crusade. Now I seek to aide the one called Balori. I am told he has been changed into an immortal Gifted One and seeks to place the stars once more into the night sky.”

Wu Chan Chu considered this man. “I do not know any Balori, nor have I ever met an immortal elephant. I go to find the one called Black Tentacle. I am told he seeks a demon that lives upon the Plain of Adoration. If the demon has anything to do with the disappearance of the stars, your Balori may be there, but I know nothing of him. Join us if you will, but these men go to fight the demon for wrongs he has committed onto them and the world. I seek Black Tentacle and only Black Tentacle.”

Shabar listened carefully. He considered joining this band of warriors. He ate supper with them that night and slept with them. By the next morning, he had made up his mind.

Wu Chan Chu urged her fellow fighters to gather their equipment. “By the gods, if I didn’t think a demon was involved and I could go only for Black Tentacle, I would leave you all behind, but I may need you to serve as a distraction. Wrest yourselves from sleep and let’s go!”

She paused a moment, eyeing Shabar as he readied himself.

“You go with us, then?” she asked.

Shabar nodded.

“I cannot promise you’ll find your friend,” she warned.

“I understand, but this is the best possibility I’ve learned of yet. If nothing else, I’ve been traveling alone a long time and when a man is alone for so long his thoughts can turn wicked, especially if he’s left home with an ill wind to his back.”

Wu Chan Chu thought on this. She said, “Keep up. I will not slow my progress for an idiot or a lazy bastard. Keep at my pace and we may reach this Plain of Adoration in proper time. I will not wait.”

Shabar again nodded, saying, “I will keep up.”

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CHAPTER 4

Fei Li Mi had been living upon the Plain of Adoration for a small time, easing his way closer to the demon-dog, speaking with him and making a home for himself when rumors spread through the field and eyes were turned upward toward the Black Mountains. Fei Li Mi peered onto the mountains and there saw the elephant Balori floated slowly down into the plain. He came closer, closer, nodding to those who said hello to him and welcoming him to the plain. He felt they meant him to stay. He wondered why anyone would stay.

Fei Li Mi watched with Yaska Selith and Neboshazzar, who was perched upon the demon-dog’s shoulder, as the elephant flew nearer before lifting himself off the ground using his mystic cloud and drawing face-to-face with Yaska Selith.

Neboshazzar screeched angrily at the elephant. Balori winced at the sound before giving the ghastly beast a sour look.

Fei Li Mi took to the air and came level with Balori and Yaska Selith’s face.

Balori’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Fei Li Mi, I am not surprised you are here.”

“Then you should not be surprised you are not welcome, at least for my part.”

“Know you this elephant?” asked Yaska Selith.

Fei Li Mi nodded. “Indeed. We once served the same mistress.”

“Once served?” asked Balori. “Am I to understand you no longer serve the Eternal Empress.”

“No longer,” confirmed Fei Li Mi. “When first I came onto the plain of adoration I was welcomed with open arms. The children here love and accept me and the people do not judge me based upon their whims. Here I am–”

“Shut you gods bedamned mouth, fish,” cursed Balori. “I care not why you are here.” Balori then turned to Yaska Selth and said, “Demon, I come seeking the Jewel of Zingtai. I would take it and peacefully go.”

“Jewel of Zingtai?” asked Yaska Selith. “What would that be?”

Balori’s heart suddenly sank. He feared the demon-dog knew nothing, therefore did not have the jewel. He explained, “It is a jewel from off the wing of Zingtai the Nighttime Butterfly. Without it she cannot fly, thus we have lost the stars. If I can retrieve it, the stars will return to the nighttime skies and all would benefit from their beauty.”

“Would they now?” asked Yaska Selith. He leaned back on his haunches and said, “Perhaps I have your jewel. Many great treasures are sent to me by adoring friends. And I must confess to you an obsession I have with shiny, pretty things. Looking at them makes me want to eat them!” At this Yaska Selith gurgled forth barking laughter.

“He does not have it,” said Fei Li Mi. “So leave at once.”

“How do you know I do not have this jewel?” asked Yaska Selith of Fei Li Mi.

The fish responded, “I have been here a short time and I have yet once to see or hear of it.”

“Do you know where I keep my treasures, fish?” asked the demon-dog.

Fei Li Mi had to confess he did not, “Though I hear you bury them.”

“I do! I do! In fact, this small mound of dirt I now sit upon is the very spot where I bury all my beautiful treasures.” Yaska Selith turned to Balori and asked, “What does your jewel look like?”

“It is as an oversized emerald,” said Balori.

Yaska Selith reached a clawed hand under himself and dug into the ground there. He then produced a giant emerald with two small chips in it where Zom Loa and Stavros had both taken a bit for themselves to eat.

“Could this be it?” asked the demon-dog.

“It has to be! There could be but one giant emerald!” Balori cried out. “Will you give it to me, demon?”

Yaska Selith considered giving it to the elephant, but the gleam and shine of the jewel enticed him. He brought the emerald near and sniffed it, placed it in his mouth and nibbled it playfully, then took it out of his mouth and swiftly plunged it into the ground beneath him.

“No!” cried Yaska Selith. “It is mine! All these treasures I sit upon are mine. You cannot have a single one!”

Balori trumpeted in anger. He said, “If you do not give it to me peacefully, I will return with many warriors and take it forcefully.”

Yaska Selith laughed so loudly at this the ground shook. He looked at Balori and said, “You may be quite large to these people that live at my feet, but to me you are tiny. What could you possibly do to me?”

Again the demon-dog laughed, this time howling in joy afterwards. He then said, “Dear elephant, consider joining my ranks so that you may tell me more jokes such as this and entertain me nightly.”

Balori filled with rage. He stood on his mystic cloud and yelled, “You dare mock me? I am Balori Shongoyo of the Elephants of Ife! And if you do not hand over that jewel I will be your destroyer!”

Yaska Selith stopped his laughing. He stared angrily at the elephant standing upon his cloud. He said, “Rid me of yourself.” At this he raised a clawed hand and swatted Balori from the sky, knocking him from his own cloud and sending him flying into the side of the Black Mountains.

This time Fei Li Mi joined Yaska Selith in laughter as Neboshazzar screeched victory and the followers of the demon-dog sent up a triumphant cheer.

Balori crashed hard against the stony surface of the mountains. He struggled to stand. Pain throbbed throughout his body. He snorted and the mystic cloud that hand been left suspended before Yaska Selith returned to him, flying into his trunk. He snorted again, pushing the cloud back out and he mounted it. Taking a long, last look at Yaska Selith and those upon the plain, he turned and flew as swiftly as he could up the mountains.

There, waiting in anticipation, were his fellows. They had seen Balori swatted from the sky and feared him harmed.

“Are you all right?” asked Negkendra as Balori returned to them.

Balori huffed angrily. “I suppose my pride is far more wounded than my body, Negkendra. Thank you for asking. In case you could not see, he denied me the Jewel of Zingtai.”

Akadia asked, “So he has it? Was that really it he held up?”

Balori nodded. “That was the jewel we seek.”

“What do we do now?” asked Macia. “We can’t possibly take them all on by ourselves.”

Balori finished stretching his muscles and brushing himself off and drinking deeply from one of his men’s flask. He said, “We may not have to. As I descended the mountains I saw to the south a kingdom with a castle. I can only imagine the demon has sent some of his men that way and may have control of it, but if not, I can only imagine those that live there do not appreciate their neighbor.”

Macia, Negkendra, Akadia and all of them nodded.

Akadia said, “We go there, then? To seek help?”

Balori nodded. “We go there to seek help.”

In the far distance, on the northern border of the plain, Zom Loa crossed Owl Bridge and entered the Plain of Adoration.

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CHAPTER 5

As the marmoset and the farmer approached the large doors to the Chamber of Despair, Momoki thought of something. He stopped and turned to the shadows. He did not know where exactly Radiant Gui was, but knew he would definitely be nearby, watching.

Joto Ba, now with a menacing sickle held firmly in his hand, turn and looked out into the beshadowed land with Momoki as the marmoset called out, “Radiant Gui, I’ve a question for you.”

Radiant Gui appeared, melting from shadows. His ghastly, demonic horse-form frightened Joto Ba and he raised his sickle and backed away first one step, then two.

Radiant Gui eyed the farmer, then looked to Momoki. “What s it?”

“Is there water within the Chamber of Despair?” asked Momoki.

The horse-demon gurgled laughter. “No! I think there’s not a drop of water in all the many layers of Hell. What does it matter?”

Said Momoki, “My friends, they will need water soon lest they die.”

Radiant Gui considered this. “Hmmm,” said he, “I’ve heard living things cannot live without this element. Bah! How weak they are!”

Momoki looked to the horse-demon, “Is there a way to bring water to them? If not, they will die.”

“And?”

Momoki stiffened. “And should they die I will refuse this quest you send me on.”

Radiant Gui whinnied with fear and anger. He brought his face low to the ground to hover just over Momoki’s head. Sulphur and ash fell from his mouth and nose onto Momoki as he breathed.

Radiant Gui withdrew into the shadows, saying, “You try my patience, marmoset.”

Radiant Gui gone, Momoki knew not what to do. He turned toward the doors to his chamber and opened them. Joto Ba followed him in.

As they entered, a flurry of activity met them. Gogi ran across the courtyard towards his garden with a small tub Szu Ri had made by binding twigs together with her silk. Momoki followed after him and Joto Ba followed Momoki.

Gogi stopped at the side of his garden. Water bubbled forth from where he had been digging a well in hopes of finding water. He placed the tub in the water and filled it until he had great difficulty lifting it out again. He then saw Momoki and nearly screeched with excitement, “Momoki! Oh, Momoki, look! I’ve done it! I’ve found water! Look!”

The water started flooding all around the garden in chaotic ways.

“Oh!” said Gogi. “I have to irrigate or it’ll not stay so the plants can drink from it!”

Gogi adjusted his hat down on his head so it would not fall off as he worked. He began digging little channels around the garden to direct the flow of water around and through the garden.

“Would you like us to help?” asked Momoki.

Gogi nodded vigorously. “Would you? Thank you, Momoki!”

Momoki took the tip of his pipe and began making channels.

Joto Ba take the point of his sickle’s blade and did the same.

Momoki introduced them, “Gogi, this is Joto Ba. He was a farmer in his last life.”

“Oh,” Gogi twitched nervously. He feared his small garden would look patheric in the eyes of another, especially an authentic farmer. He said, “Pleased to meet you, Joto Ba. This garden, it’s, uh, w-well, it’s not much.”

Joto Ba smiled, though it did not show on his expressionless face. He said, “It is fine work.”

Gogi breathed a little easier. His chest swelled with pride. He nodded to Joto Ba and said, “Thank you.”

On they worked, Momoki and Joto Ba digging small channels and Gogi going along behind them, packing down the dirt and forming the paths for the water.

The sprouts drank deeply and filled out, happily growing.


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Be sure to look for Act III next week!

"Warriors of the Midnight Sun" - Act I

Now begins the final tale of Momoki the Marmoset, Gogi the Grasshopper, Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish, Comet Fox, Bolri Shongoyo the Towering Elephant and all the characters of The Children of Gods universe.

Enjoy.

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“Warriors of the Midnight Sun”
© 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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ACT I

THE FISHERMAN: Wherein Ebi the Fisherman Joins Momoki in Hell; Fei Li Mi Enters the Plain of Adoration; Balori Shongoyo and His Friends Reach the Black Mountains

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CHAPTER 1

Under the undying, unblinking eye of the Midnight Sun stood the enchanted Silver Forest. At its edge, moving through it crimson glow and charcoal shadows, walked Momoki the Marmoset. He came at last to rest upon a black rock protruding from the black ground where he often sat in meditation. Fumbled he with his pipe, staring at it, considering it. He had fought only once in his life before afterlife and the result was saving the life of his beloved Twila the Turtle. Yet that fight against Motharus the Kestrel-Headed ended in no deaths. Never before had he taken the life of another creature. Now he stared at his bloodstained pipe.

He had murdered the Gold Baboon of the Midnight Sun, a truly despicable creature indeed. He wondered if even the many Hells would be better off without such a creature. Yet Momoki’s belly welled with the murder and though Momoki was dead and therefore immune to illness, he felt quite ill. He felt now he truly deserved the role as Master of the Chamber of Despair.

It was at this moment, with Momoki contemplating life and death and murder upon the Black Rock of Meditation at the edge of the Silver Forest, Ebi the Fisherman came before him.

Where once Ebi had been a bright, vibrant living man now he was a misty black ghost, as was Momoki. His form wavered in shadow as he peered at the dark Land of the Midnight Sun. His eyes glowed red as Momoki’s, as the Midnight Sun itself, and encircling his waist, where once the demon-dog Yaska Selith had bitten him in half, was a bright red jagged streak. It, too, glowed as the Midnight Sun and on occasion let loose with a small droplet of crimson that rose on the air briefly before disappearing as though he were still bleeding and the blood defied gravity to fly up.

Ebi looked to Momoki.

Momoki stood, bowed and said, “Welcome, warrior, to the Land of the Midnight Sun. I am Momoki the Marmoset, Master of the Chamber of Despair and I will be your counsel and teacher. You are now dead and have been chosen to ride with me in your afterlife against a demon-dog, a false demon called Yaska Seltih, and end his reign of blight upon the world.”

Ebi nodded, saying, “I know him.” His voice was hollow and echoed briefly as he spoke.

“Do you?” asked Momoki.

Again Ebi nodded. “He was my Pup.”

Momoki thought on this before asking, “Know you how to fight?”

Ebi shook his head. “I was but a fisherman.”

Momoki considered this. He said, “I will train you in the ways of fighting.”

And so began the gathering of the Warriors of the Midnight Sun, so began the training of Ebi by Momoki.

Momoki chased Ebi through the Silver Forest wielding his pipe in a menacing fashion. He taught Ebi to block, guard, parry and evade as he had been taught by both the Amethyst and Silver Baboons. Ebi grew strong in mind, wise in the ways of fighting, but he had questions. He wondered, if he were already dead, why he would need to learn evasiveness unless he could die once again.

He asked, “Can I die once more?”

Momoki, sitting upon the Black Rock of Meditation as they rested from their training, said, “Yes, but only at the hands of a Gifted One or a god.”

Ebi nodded with understanding.

On and on went their training until, at last, Momoki felt he could teach Ebi nothing more. He said, “Now we must teach you to attack. Think, Ebi. Think of some thing that you used in your day-to-day life, something you know well and are familiar with, something you can use as a weapon.”

Ebi searched throughout his memory for a proper weapon. His first and strongest thoughts were of his nets he used for fishing, but doubted their value as a weapon. He was not sure what a proper weapon should be like, but he knew it had to be dangerous. He thought of the things that may have hurt him over the years of his life. again he thought of the nets and how his shoulders hurt after hauling them in all day. yet finally his mind wandered to one thing, the thing he constantly pricked his fingers with though he did not use it as often as his nets. He thought of his many fishing hooks.

In Ebi’s hand appeared a large hook with a barbed spike.

Momoki inspected the hook. It was far larger than he and appeared quite capable of menacing assaults.

Momoki nodded. “This will do nicely.”

Momoki, fearing he may kill Ebi as he had killed the Gold Baboon or Ebi killing him, thought to train Ebi instead against a many-armed silver tree. Ebi soon learned to use the spike to thrust, to arc the hook out widely in a deceptive missed attack only to pull it toward him at the last moment, spearing an enemy from behind. He became quite efficient with his new weapon.

Watching from the deep shadows of the land was Radiant Gui. As he witnessed Ebi’s progress and Momoki’s acceptance in his role, he smiled a toothy, drooling smile.

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CHAPTER 2

In a hilly countryside where grass rolled over the horizons there was a small farming village called Yuki. The people there had terra-formed the land into stepped farmland where they planted and grew fields of rice. They brought water from the nearby mountains into their fields with deeply dug trenches. They had a large windmill with which they used to spin a miller’s stone and grind rice into paste or powder. Everything here was green and blue and bright. Even the people wore blue and green work clothes with the occasional bit of purple. They dyed their own clothes with the inks of roots they grounded themselves. In every way the people of Yuki were self-sufficient. They even had a nearby town at the base of the hills that had grown along a trade route where they could go to sell any of their surplus rice and grains and dyes.

Each year the village grew a little with children. But once they added a new member to their numbers. He came crawling to them, wounded and broken and dying from thirst, hunger and exposure.

The village elder, a man called Dubai, recognized this newcomer immediately as a Gifted One. He told his people, “He has come to us from the gods, wounded and needing help. They have sent him to us to care for.”

The people agreed and they took in the Gifted One, though a few were frightened by his rat form. Rats, they knew, could eat away foodstuffs and therefore profits and supplies. These people would whisper that this newcomer was, perhaps, a curse, but they remained fairly silent and obeyed Dubai’s words of wisdom and felt they should wait until the rat had actually committed some affront upon them before demanding he be ousted.

The affront never came. In fact, he soon won over the hearts of everyone within the village.

The rat was given a bed within the home of Dubai and his granddaughter Elsa. His name was learned as Stavros and as soon as his back had healed enough where he could walk he asked to join them in their work in the rice paddies.

“It is our work,” said Dubai. “Do not concern yourself with it.”

Stavros, whose back had healed improperly so as to give him the slightest hunch as his chest thrusted forward, said, “But Dubai, you have all been so kind. I am in awe of your kindness. I have felt such kindness only once before in my life and I wish to show my gratitude. Helping you in the fields is the best way I can think of. If there is another way, then tell me. I will do it.”

Dubai felt the words of the rat. He said, “If it is what you wish, we will teach you to work in the paddies.”

Stavros’ back, arms and shoulders soon grew with the work. He enjoyed his days in warming sun. he even enjoyed the rainy nights when the Heavens opened their gates and flooded the hills. He felt so small and at the command of all the elements when it rained, yet he somehow felt a part of the land, as well. He was working the land, growing as the rice grew. He learned to love the people of Yuki village as he had once loved the Ruska Roma.

Stavros’ story became well known to the villagers. The children often asked him to retell his tales of traveling the world and fighting the Brothers Jackal, of the immensity of the demon-dog. They would clap and cheer as he began and ended each tale.

Elsa bought new cloth in the town and dyed them bright blue with streaks of purple and sewed them into a new outfit for Stavros. He gave up all his possessions, selling them and giving the money to the village to be spent on whatever supplies they needed. He kept only his earrings and his sword.

At times, usually late at night when the land was quiet and the people of the village were falling asleep, Stavros would walk into the fields and meditate upon his fallen Ruska Roma family. Inevitably he would begin practicing his fighting in katas of his own. Occasionally he would do so with his sword.

On one windy night, as the air seemed to howl with the agony of the dead, Stavros thought he could hear the voices of the fallen Ruska Roma calling out to him.

He took to the field with his sword. He decided then – as the winds howled about him, bending the grass and his fur – should he ever be given the chance, he would avenge his people. He took up his sword this night and practiced. He watched for a moment in the distance how the windmill whipped, spinning crazily in the wind. He thought how dangerous it would be to go near it. As he practiced with his sword, he thought to mimic the spinning windmill. He jumped, his body parallel to the ground as he twisted with his sword extended out, spinning as the blades of the windmill and brought the blade down upon a stone in the grassy field as he fell, splitting it in half.

He rose from the ground. As the world breathed heavily upon him, so too he breathed heavily back at the world. “I will find my way to you, demon,” he cursed. “And I will cut your jackals to pieces.”

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CHAPTER 3

Fei Li Mi chased every rumor that came to his ears. Many were those that knew the reason the stars had fallen from the nightly Heavens, enough for the catfish to know the tale was too well known to be a mere rumor. But the things he heard of the demon-dog Yaska Selith seemed wild and exaggerated. One thing, however, piqued his interest. He had heard from more than one person that treasures from all over the world were being sent to the Plain of Adoration, to Yaska Selith. Some of the treasure was being sent by the demon-dog’s own loyal followers. Others were being sent by those wishing the demon-dog to bless and protect them or do for them some favor. Amongst the treasures had been many jewels and gems. Thought Fei Li Mi considered the possibility of Yaska Selith having the Jewel of Zingtai – the very jewel he sought – he felt himself remiss should he not follow the rumors.

So came Fei Li Mi to the Plain of Adoration. There he witnessed what many others had. He saw the orgies, the use of opium, the rapes and fights and gambling. He feared not so much the people or their activities, but the zeal with which they took to them.

He was seen flying overhead and rather than fly off or hide, he felt it best to lower himself to the plain and present himself. And though he could easily see the large demon-dog, he was uncertain how to approach him. He instead presented himself to the group of people nearest to where he landed.

“I am Fei Li Mi,” said he. “I would like to speak with your demon.”

The people laughed. One man said, “Who doesn’t? Come, join us, we are about to play some games and roast some rabbits we hunted earlier. A Gifted One such as yourself would make our conversations livelier and it would be a great honor for us.”

Fei Li Mi accepted their offer and ate with them and played games. He learned much about Yaska Selith in this way. Moreso, he learned a lot of the people who gathered at the demon-dog’s feet were simple peasants seeking refuge from some thing or another or seeking nearness to Yaska Selith. Many appeared in awe of the demon, despite having lived upon the plain for some time.

After a time, Fei Li Mi had to admit, with the cordial approach the people took to him, he felt welcomed here. A few of the women even had children and they all sat and listened as he told them tales of the Elephant Crusade. The people enjoyed having Fei Li Mi to watch their children and he thought, “I came here to please my Empress and win the favor of her children, but if there be children here I can oversee and protect, what need have I to hassle myself with asking the demon-dog for the jewel, should he even have it? No, I will make this plain my new home.”

And so he did.

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CHAPTER 4

Balori’s company of men had grown as they traveled across the world. He knew a few were there only to be near him, which disgusted him. But he remained focused on reaching the Plain of Adoration. Should a fight truly be coming, he knew its nearness would chase off the cowards that followed him.

As they went, they came into town after town that knew of the Plain of Adoration. Person after person told them they drew nearer and nearer still. Great excitement filled Baloir, Macia, Negkendra and Akadia. A few of the others, the cowards that Balori despised, the men who were following merely to follow, asked, “What are we to do when we reach the plain?”

Balori said one word, “Fight.”

“Fight? A demon?”

Balori nodded.

The next day, as they rose from their night’s slumber and prepared to press on towards the plain, the men who were following to follow had already gone, slipping away in the night. This pleased Balori.

They pressed themselves hard that day. they did not stop much to eat. When one man had to relieve himself by the side of the road, the mass of them did not stop to wait for him. He would have to catch up later.

Those men and women that remained at his side sought to right things in the world. Many had been witness to Yaska Selith’s devilry as he moved across the world before settling upon the plain and they came for vengeance, for retribution, for justice. Many had no connection to Yaska Selith at all, they simply wanted to aide Balori in returning the nighttime Heavens to their former beauty. A few came with Balori seeking glory. With the parting of the few who followed merely to follow, all were bound together in their dedication.

They were all thin with the hard traveling. But with each meal that grew smaller so their dedication grew larger.

At last they came to western side of the Black Mountains. Their black and purple looming visage had driven them for many days. Balori raised his massive trunk and smelled the air. He said, “The demon is near. Should the directions we’ve been given be true, he lives upon the plain just the other side of these mountains.”

Negkendra craned his neck, as did all the men, and gazed upon the imposing mountains. “We’ll not make the top of the mountains before night,” said he. “It would be best if we stay here for the night and start up the first thing in the morning.”

“If only we could all fly as Balori,” said Akadia. “These mountains would not stand in our way.”

“If we could fly as Balori, none of our travels would have taken so long,” answered Macia.

Akadia nodded. He considered Balori a moment. He said, “Master Balori, we have held you back a long time, much more than you ever desired. We are here now, at the base of the Black Mountains. Go, go on without us. We will tackle the mountains at first light and we will join you when we can.”

Balori considered this. He looked up at the mountains. He wanted so desperately to fly over the mountains and confront the demon-dog, to find out if he truly possessed the Jewel of Zingtai. He looked at Akadia and said, “Perhaps I could, but I won’t.”

Many of the men rumbled. They urged Balori to go on without them, that they would catch up.

Balori shook his massive head, his ears swaying from side to side as he did so. “We have traveled this far together. I can wait one more day. And, you are here because never have I confronted a demon before. I know not what to expect. I can only assume a fight might follow. If there’s a chance of that, I’ll need you at my side. I may be a Gifted One, but I am but one pair of hands. I do not know if that is enough to conquer a demon. I will wait.”

Balori looked at them each in turn and added, “And many of you have good reason to be here. I cannot rob you of your chance to make things right. You have been with me throughout the journey, even when we were not the best of friends,” at this he looked at Negkendra. “But now we are as family. I cannot abandon you now.”

Though some of the men and women did not agree, saying that had they been in Balori’s place they would go on without the rest, they all saw the elephant’s wisdom and thanked him for the kind gesture.

Balori said, “Get some rest, lest these mountains conquer us tomorrow.”

They made camp, ate a large supper taking up most of the last of their provisions, toasted to themselves and drank deeply from flasks of wine and watched as Kalavata flew high overhead to blanket the world with a starless night. They each could feel the nearness of the end. They each could sense the demon-dog on the other side of the mountains. Not one of them slept very well.

The following day they made a small breakfast and let loose their horses before scaling the large Black Mountains. It took them all day and they paused only to eat once. In the end many of the men and women had scrapes and bruises, but none were severely hurt. As Kalavata crested the far horizon so Balori and the other crested the peak of the mountains.

As they rested upon a large ledge frosted with bit of snow, they eyed the plain far below and saw the amassed people there surrounding Yaska Selith.

“Their numbers are far greater than ours,” said Macia Thrace.

The others nodded.

Akadia spoke, “Balori, I’ve been thinking on matters. If we all descend the mountains at once and challenge this demon, I doubt any of us would survive. We number perhaps a few dozen, they number a few thousand.”

“I think you are correct,” said Balori.

“I think perhaps you should go on alone to discover the truth of the Jewel of Zingtai. I’m certain you could ask to see the demon and when you do you could ask him directly to give up the jewel. If he says he will, then our purpose is at an end. If he says he won’t give it up, at least then we will know he truly possesses it. If he says he knows nothing of it, then we know we’re not where we need to be. If we descend together we may be seen as an invasion force and attacked immediately. What good then will our trek have been? But if you go on alone, then our lives would not be in danger and we all could be spared.”

“You send Balori to his death!” Negkendra challenged.

Akadia shook his head, “That is not my intention. They are more likely to allow one of us to pass by without harm.”

“Why Balori then? Why not you?” asked Negkendra.

“Because he can fly and be there swiftly and easily.”

“You send him to his death!” Negkendra said forcefully, approaching Akadia as thought to attack him.

“No,” said Balori. “What Akadia suggests had merit. What good is there in all of us marching to our deaths? If I go forth alone, I can be as a scout. I do not wish to leave the company of men and women who have so ardently come this way not to obey me or follow my quest, but to follow each their own. This means much to all of us individually and as a whole, yet, as I said, Akadia’s words have merit.”

There were a few protests, but in the end most of the others agreed to Akadia’s wisdom.

Balori gathered up his three weapons and made sure they were placed well within his belt. He paused only a moment to look at the others. “I wish there was another way.”

One of the men, perhaps inappropriately, said, “Should anything happen, we will avenge your death.”

This drew a few sour looks to him, but all quietly agreed to his sentiment.

Balori breathed deep. He snorted out his mystic cloud and mounted it. He slowly descended the Black Mountains towards the Plain of Adoration.

******************************

CHAPTER 5

Momoki and Ebi entered the Chamber of Despair together. They walked across the courtyard to the hut where he introduced the fisherman to Twila and Szu Ri who were quietly chatting. Ebi bowed to them and rested upon the floor near them. Momoki looked at the hut in whole. He noticed how Ebi seemed to take up so much room. He knew then why the hut had been made so large, he knew then the hut would house not only himself and Twila, but his warriors. He looked at all the remaining emptiness and wondered how many more would fill the hut completely.

He looked at Szu Ri and asked, “Where is friend Gogi?”

“He is in his garden,” replied Szu Ri.

Momoki nodded and turned toward the area of the courtyard where Gogi had made his garden.

As he approached, he heard Gogi mumbling nervously as he dug at a deep hole in the ground next to the garden. He then saw a few stems of plants had sprouted, but they were weak and thin.

“What’s the matter, Gogi?”

Gogi nearly jumped at the sound of Momoki’s voice. He had been so busily studying the garden he had not noticed Momoki’s return. He said, “Oh, Momoki… I-it’s my garden. It’s not growing very well. It’s not strong at all. There’s no water here and if I do not find some soon these plants will die. I-I cannot allow that to happen! Szu Ri and I need to eat. If we don’t have these plants, if I can’t dig a well and find some water, we may die!”

He looked pleadingly at Momoki. “I-I simply can’t fail! I can’t fail Szu Ri!”

Momoki nodded, wondering if he had done the right thing by bringing his friends to the Chamber of Despair.

******************************

Act II will be posted next week. Be sure to check back!

"Quiet Little Wars"

I've been wanting to blog something as of late besides my usual serialized stories. I found this. I believe I've posted it before. Perhaps not?

Enjoy.

"Quiet Little Wars"

I woke up this morning and tried to keep quiet to let Johannah sleep. Outside my door people were yelling at each other, not mad but madly, trying to figure out which truck to use to go retrieve which other truck and whether or not some paperwork had come in on still another truck. It was all so very stupid. It gave me a headache. I lay there in bed quietly clicking over the channels on the television, my ears straining to hear the level 8 out of fifty levels of volume.

Outside, as the clock showed eight-oh-one in the morning, a neighbor started up his riding lawn mower. Gas and BRRRRRMMMMMM floated in through the window.

Hunger hit. I got up and went to the kitchen and got a quick glass of milk. A quick glass of milk keeps me from saying “Mornin’” to anyone. I walked back to my bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed and drank the hunger away, my ears still straining to hear that level eight volume. Fresh cut grass now mixed with the gas coming in through the window. I coughed and coughed, tying to keep it in. I gulped the milk, took it to the kitchen, put water in the glass and headed down the hall for the bathroom. After pissing, I went back to sit on the edge of the bed and watched TV, still straining to hear level eight.

Television got boring quickly, so I lie back down and read some. I wasn’t really reading, I was passing the time and pretending to read. While my eyes flashed over the words on the printed page I was thinking other things. “I have that paperwork to fill out and send to the doctor. I have that paperwork to fill out and send to Sallie Mae. I have those manuscripts to stamp and send off. I wonder if the library is open today, I wish it was closer so I could walk there. I wonder what my bank account balance is. I’d like to play a war game right now. What happened to Where’s Waldo? Are they still publishing those damned things?”

Three pages and fourteen minutes later, I hadn’t a clue what I’d just read.

“I’m hungry,” I said aloud, though not loud.

I walked back to the kitchen and found the little dishtowel on the handle of the oven door completely disheveled. I hate that. It takes all of 3 seconds to properly put a dishtowel away. It’s not supposed to be stuffed or thrown on; it should hang nicely, squarely. I squared it off with the funny leaves and flowerpots looking out and brightening the kitchen with unseen smiles. A tag hung off the towel to one side. I hate that, too. I reached out and tore it off. Perfection.

I got another glass of milk and returned to sit on the edge of the bed. More yelling, more mowing. People seem to need to make noise to validate their existence. There is no validation. Just noise. Just life. Then death. In between there is only noise. My ears strained to hear that level eight. Golden Girls. I hate the show, yet I’m fascinated by the fantasy it offers, like any other fantasy, but packaged neatly, tightly, quickly into twenty-two minutes and followed more regularly than anything Tolkein or Mallory ever wrote. They weren’t masters of fantasy. Golden Girls is.

Commercials. Commercials remind me that even the sitcom writers aren’t masters of fantasy. Advertising in a flash-bang-pop. Buy this and you’ll be the hero. Sitcoms allow you to watch regular heroes. Commercials entice you to become one. False heroes, maybe. I guess that’s arguable. But heroes just the same. And isn’t King Arthur a fake, after all? Perhaps based in reality. Perhaps. But a fake nonetheless. An elaborated, exaggerated fantasy man. A hero. A commercial.

With every new commercial that snaps on my mind feels, tastes the attention it is given by my eyes. The same happens when the commercial break is over. Reruns. Reruns of reruns. Watching dead men and women talking in a life-like fantasyland. Miami, Chicago, L.A., Detroit, New York. Give it a real place and suddenly it’s all so real. False realism. Just lie to me.

Johannah wakes up and moans her morning “I hate mornings” moan. She’s hungry. I’m hungry. I can’t write. She’s hungry, too. I can leave the house without showering. She can’t. So I turn the television up to volume level twenty-two, trying to drown out the yelling and the mowing, and I lay on the bed watching reruns tell jokes timely for the late ‘80s. Her shower’s done. We leave.

Outside the sky is dark to the north. Winds blow from the same direction. There’s moisture in the air. I can smell that wet natural smell, I can feel it land on my skin and expand my flesh. Rehydration through osmosis.

An army of dandelions is slowly choking out the green of the grass. The neighbor is mowing down his lawn, spraying yellow and green into the air. It makes me cough and clog up.

The window on the back of the truck has been opened. I dunno who does it, but every day it’s open and if I leave it open the next day it’s open just a little more. I close it. In the cab of the truck, Johannah’s readjusting the rearview mirror. I get in and pop on the stereo.

There’s this little place about two blocks from us called Khio’s. It’s an old building that looks like a small barn and if you didn’t pay attention as you drove past I’m sure it would mix in with the landscape very well. But one day I noticed it and a half dozen cars parked out front. That’s when we realized it was a restaurant. At Khio’s we can get a huge meal for half the price that fast-food joints charge us for a coupla sandwiches. We eat in silence. Someone in the restaurant lights a cigarette. Smoking is still allowed in restaurants here. My coughing causes us to eat faster.

I wished I could be writing this morning. I wished I were dead. I wished cancer would come and consume that smoker like a ravenous patron devouring runny eggs. I wondered what was on TV.

We left. $11 plus a two-dollar tip, thirteen bucks total for more food than we can usually eat.

“I have some stuff to mail out,” she tells me.

“Shit,” I say. “I had manuscripts.” I should be sending out more things to more mags. I’ve only got three things out right now. I need money. We need money. I should buy some stamps and send out those manuscripts. Goddamn this world. What does a guy do when the world he lives in is made of liquid money? I can’t swim! I just want a rocking chair. I can’t even afford a goddamned rocking chair. A rocking chair would let me sit and enjoy life, relax a bit, maybe even take that daytime nap I’ve been trying to take for the last three days. But a man can’t even afford a cheap luxury if he doesn’t know how to swim. Like any of this really matters. None of this matters in the course of human history, but I don’t give a fuck about the course of human history. The way I figure it, every little thing out there is out to get you, out to fuck up what you’ve got. The people, the mowers, the politicians, the smokers, the dandelions, the grass, the reruns, the commercials, the whole damned world is out there and they’ve each quietly declared their own little wars on you. They’ve drawn their lines in the sand and the only thing you can do is ease the distractions.

“Wanna go home and get them?”

“Nah, I’ll do it later.”

We went to the post office. We went to the store.

“Hey, Gunner’s got me hungry for Pop Tarts.” Gunner’s a friend of mine in Cali. “Can I get some Pop Tarts?”

Johannah gives me a suspicious look. She knows I don’t eat sugar. I’m convinced all the corporations involved with food use the addictive qualities of the sweetness of sugar to fish hook people into buying all their foods. Why does juice need corn syrup?

“Sure,” she says. I grab some. The box says they taste like banana split sundaes. I’m not a big ice cream guy, but if you’re gonna eat sugar you might as well go for broke.

We head for home. I eat a single, lonely Pop Tart. I don’t really wanna eat its twin, but somehow I feel wrong, bad even, for eating just the one. But I had such a huge breakfast! I give in, damage my teeth some more and eat the second Pop Tart, washing it down with my third glass of milk for the day. From here on I’ll only drink water.

The Yellers are gone, as is their truck. I can only assume they’re in the truck yelling at each other on the way to get the other truck. The Mower was still mowing, but he was almost done. Now I’m sitting and writing all of this and feeling my teeth ache under the sticky film of sugar. I need a shower. And I need to brush my teeth. I wonder if Burt Reynolds ever went without brushing his teeth. Or any of the presidents. I guess Washington did.

I wonder if wrestling will be interesting tonight. It rarely is. Most of the time wrestling is just the same shit, different day. But a few times each year there’s that one thing, that one act or event that really blows your mind. History-making stuff. Maybe not in the overall course of human history, but in the history of the business. But you still watch it, three hundred sixty-five days a year. Wrestling is about entertainment, sure, but that’s a very minor part of it. In a more sweeping generalization, wrestling is about escapism. It’s my time to tell the whole world to go fuck itself and leave me alone. While I’m writing, it can be interrupted by the need to do laundry. While I’m doing laundry, it can be interrupted by a phone call. But don’t even think about calling me during wrestling unless, of course, you’re watching wrestling and wanna talk about wrestling. And that brings me to the second reason I watch wrestling: ritual. We all need our rituals to make us feel in control. Something to do, consistently, even mindlessly, at very specific intervals in the course of our lives, be it daily, weekly or semi-annually. Wrestling is, more than anything, about ritual and history. It provides a real-life language of numbers, numbers that you can track and control in your head and guess what’s going to happen and freak out excitedly when some new number is thrown into the formula. Bukowski had his horses, which he cared for more as a way to contact humanity and play with the numbers at the betting window. Hem had his bullfights, which is completely about ritual and doing things by the numbers. If the matador doesn’t do things by the numbers, he risks getting hurt. And then there’s that one freak occurrence when the matador missteps and POW gets GORED. I get the same from wrestling

I also get the same from war gaming. I’ve loved war-gaming since I was a kid. Chess, Go, Conflict, Risk, what have you. H.G. Wells liked war games, too. Currently I’m playing a turn-based strategy video game called Dai Senryaku VII. I enjoy turn-based more than real-time, though I like real-time, too. But war games are all about the management of numbers for fuel, for ammo, for movement, and deployment, for shape of attacks and planning. It’s all numbers. It brings a sense of control and exercises part of the brain that needs to flex under the logic of numbers. Numbers. Numbers. Numbers. Math truly is everywhere cuz part of the human brain is geared for such thinking. We made up numbers, so we look for them and use them and see them everywhere. I dunno if it’s because Hem and Buk and Wells and I and others are creative types and we need to balance things out with some less creative, more logical processes. That idea works for me. But who knows?

I like my drivel. It is comfortable, true, and the rituals give you a strange sense of belonging. I can’t swallow humanity most days, but I have to. If I want to eat, I gotta go to the market. If I want to go somewhere, even to get away from it all, I have to at least go to a gas station. Humanity is everywhere. And dealing with humanity most days is like getting fucked in the eye. Fuck humanity right back. Hey you! Asshole listening to his music at the gas station on EXTREMELY LOUD, go find a way to bend your dick around and shove it up your own ass!

Wrestling gives me a safe connection with humanity. While there is escapism to it all, there is also a good reflection of the real world in wrestling. I can watch it all in a comical way, clown-like and superhero like and galactic arch-nemesis-like. Like science fiction. Some have said science fiction lets us deal with real world issues and ideals from an objective point of view. I disagree. I don’t think it’s objective at all. Most science fiction is quite judgmental. But science fiction proposes an alternate reality to our own, but the alien nature of the whole mess makes it okay to look at things without feeling completely uncomfortable. True, some science fiction is disturbing, but it’s never as disturbing as reality. Never. The distance between us and the odd worlds of science fiction gives a false notion of viewing a separate universe and we can thus keep saying to ourselves, “It’s only a book.” Just like some people who watch horror flicks keep having to tell themselves, “It’s only a movie.” We can deal with reality via science fiction or horror or all the other ‘sub-genres’, which is why these sub-genres are never really fully en vogue, yet their popularity never truly diminishes either.

Wrestling, in a sense, does that for me. Everywhere around the world people are gathering in halls and backyards and stadiums and college campuses to watch a local or global promotion go crazy in the squared circle for a few hours. It feeds us. Millions and millions and legions of fans are we. That creates a certain brotherhood, or it can. I’m not into the idea of becoming a member of any brotherhood. I’m not your brother, asshole, so don’t come up to me at any event I may happen to be at and say hi like you're somebody to me. I may be friendly and nice, just to be cordial, but it’ll be meaningless and fake. I’ll be uncomfortable and suspicious and hateful mostly towards you. And if you’re truly an ass about it: I’ve no inhibitions on kicking your ass and making your girl hold my jacket while I do it. So stay the fuck away.

But watching wrestling on TV or following it online or reading about it in mags keeps me in touch with humanity. Sometimes with my own humanity. Ritual and repetition makes a person sane. That’s why we’re all drowning in our own mediocrity and complaining about lost loves or failed fortunes to make the mediocrity of daily life seem worthwhile, ambitious, and valid. We’d rather take the ritual than the chance.

So much of my life is chaotic, hateful, filled with spit and gushing with ugliness that’s far too out of my control that I’ve turned to wrestling for my sanity and my rituals and my begrudgingly admitted need for connection with humanity. I watch wrestling to spy on others and for the repetition.

I’ve changed this story from narrative to exposition, this thing of words becoming more a personal essay. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turn back to the narrative at some point. This should throw some of my readers off. You expect certain things, consciously and conditioned, from what you read. I honestly don’t owe you a fucken goddamned thing. I owe myself only the ritual of writing, for writing, too, keeps me from tasting blue steel and hot lead once again. Wow. Blue Steel and Hot Lead. Sounds like a good title for a story.

In any case, for my wordy wanderings I apologize. Not that I am truly sorry for the meanderings. What I write will go where it will and I defend the right of my mind and my words to do so. But you will need that apology anyways. So I give you an apology simply to keep you reading. Bitch afterwards. I’ll be sure to ignore it.

I sit on the edge of my bed rocking back and forth with restless boredom. The television is still on, quietly draining me of concentration. I think about playing a war game. Johannah’s getting ready for work, banging about the kitchen. She’s been called in. Somebody’s sick. She has to cover. More voices join in and the yelling picks up outside, some of them are kids on their way home from school. I should be writing, but I’m not.

I go into the kitchen. The towel on the stove is crooked again. I fix it. An ice cube has fallen onto the floor. I pick it up and throw it into the sink. My cat sits in the middle of the kitchen, getting under foot. I pick her up and take her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed. I pet her. Someone on television paraphrases Robert Frost. I have to recite the poem in my head in full before I can move on with my life. My stomach rumbles. I gotta take a shit, but I wanna see Johannah off to work. I leave the cat on the bed and return to the kitchen.

“Okay,” Johannah says, “I’m off to work.” She kisses my cheek. I tell her the routine “Have a good day, call me if you need nuthin’.” She leaves. The house is quiet. The world outside is roaring, raging. I need to write. I need to shit. I do both with a notebook balanced on my knee. The shits make drain me of water.

Out of the bathroom I sit on the edge of the bed again. My body rocks back and forth. I’m dehydrating. Television is so fucken boring. I decide a game’s the answer to my distraction needs. I’m bored at the opening screen. I snap it off. I snap the television off. I need water. I drink some from the kitchen tap. Then I go to bed and wait for Johannah and sleep to come join me. Please come join me. I need sleep. I need rest. I’m in my own bed and I want to go home.

The cat jumps off the bed and leaves the room.

Johannah won’t be home for hours. I won’t sleep until then. Then I can yawn and stretch and wander off to sleep for a few hours before the dawn and the yelling wakes me up again. But maybe tomorrow will be different.

Outside, voices yell and a neighbor starts his electric saw.

"Song of Momoki" -- Act III

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“Song of Momoki”
© 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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ACT III

THE DESTINIES OF FRIENDS: Wherein Momoki Receives Training; Balori Makes Peace; Wu Chan Chu Wars with Herself; Many Move Towards a Great Battle

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CHAPTER 1

Within the many layers of Hell; within one of its planes resting under a staring, indifferent red eye there was an enchanted forest of silver. It glimmered crimson under the undying, unmoving sun that never set, never rose, never wavered or blinked. It was through this forest of dead trees with chrome-like bark Momoki the Marmoset ran through, chased by the crystalline baboon of purple amethyst. He ran frantically, grunting with every effort. He jumped to the side of a tree and rebounded off it into the branches of another. The amethyst baboon, however, did not give up the chase. Instead it stopped, glared up and climbed the very tree in which Momoki sought refuge.

Momoki shivered nervously. He peered at the ground, wondering if he could jump from his great height within the tree and survive the fall. Could an undead marmoset die? He once thought an immortal marmoset could not die, yet he was wrong. If her were to fail here within the dark depths of Hell, what fate would he be cursed with? Would it be worse than the Chamber of Despair? Worse than the tortures of Radiant Gui?

His mind raced with thought. So much so he did not realize the baboon approached him now.

The baboon cackled, howled, raised crystal claws and slashed at him.

Momoki’s smoky black flesh parted under the sharp crystals. He stumbled backwards upon the branch, lost his footing and fell the length of the tree to slam into the blackened, chalky ground with a small thud.

Radiant Gui roared, appeared from the beshadowed landscape and came to stand beside the tree in which Momoki and the baboon now were.

“You fool! You let him come upon you!” cried Radiant Gui.

Momoki’s wounds healed. He lifted himself off the ground. “I did not know where else to go.”

“Fool!” Radiant Gui reached down and backhanded Momoki. He twisted and turned through the air before landing some distance away. Radiant Gui followed him. “You’re supposed to be training for your fight against Yaska Selith, not falling out of trees like idiot monkeys.”

At this the baboon growled. It leapt from the tree and joined Radiat Gui, sitting near the horse-demon’s foot.

“The baboon will attack you again. Defend yourself or it will be more tortures for you!”

The baboon leapt into action, pouncing on top of Momoki.

Momoki shrieked under the weight of the crystal baboon.

The baboon’s claws dug into the ground, pinning the marmoset down. His jaws snapped at Momoki’s head, dripping hot saliva on his face.

Momoki knew he could not throw off the baboon lest he endanger himself. He thought of his fall from the tree, thought of the claws wounds that hand healed over immediately. He knew he could take the damage.

The baboon’s maw opened wide, thrust forward. His teeth snapped together again and again.

Momoki raised his arm, somewhat limited by the baboon’s hold upon his shoulders. He baited the baboon. The baboon wrapped his teeth about the marmoset’s forearm.

The baboon now caught, somewhat limited in his own motions with his claws in the ground and jaw unrelenting upon Momoki’s forearm, Momoki was able to twist his hips, pulled sideways with his arm and using leverage toppled the baboon from off him.

The baboon and the marmoset squared off.

Momoki’s forearm healed.

The baboon jumped at Momoki.

Momoki sidestepped, struck out his palm and pressed against the baboon’s face, pushing him sideways and deflecting the attack. Again and again the baboon attacked. Again and again Momoki deflected. He ducked behind trees. He defended, but he did not run. Momoki stood his ground.

Radiant Gui sat upon his laurels and silently watched, pleased with Momoki’s progress.

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CHAPTER 2

On went Balori Shongoyo the Towering Elephant and with him his three companions. On they went across the countryside. In every town, as they stopped for provisions, word of their presence spread. Soon people from every walk of life – those seeking glory, those seeking righteousness, those seeking to acquaint themselves with a Gifted One like Balori – came forth and asked if they could join the quest to the Plain of Adoration, the quest to retrieve the Jewel of Zingtai.

Balori did not enjoy the idea of further people joining them, nor did he enjoy his further impeded progress by their joining, yet he saw the wisdom of their numbers. He knew there was a chance of war against the demon and a war would require an army, so he allowed their numbers to grow. Soon his three companions grew from three to five, then ten. Now, as they rode through a countryside turning gold with Autumn, their number was nearly two dozen.

The new members of his expedition brought their own supplies and shared weapons and armor with one another. None of them could be called rich and they could not afford full suit of armor. Many of them wore no more than one or two pieces.

One such man also had a yurt, an inheritance from his grandfather, and within it they stayed. Balori refused to join them, saying he hated being within its canvas walls. But afraid he would seem unappreciative or cause hurt feelings, he ventured a peek within it once for an inspection. He gave it his seal of approval.

As the sun set in the golden country, Balori sat atop a large boulder to watch the starless night wash over the land. He hated the slow going of his companions. He desired to fly right to the Plain of Adoration. But every time he thought this, he huffed and sighed and accepted the importance of his companions. He did so now.

It was Negkendra who came to him this night, asking if he could join the Gifted One seated upon the boulder.

Balori harrumphed. He said, “I suppose you could join me.”

Negkendra sat on a much small stone that lay at the foot of the boulder. Together the two watched the blank sky grow black overhead. They sat in silent contemplation together a long time.

At last, Negkendra said, “I’m sorry for my part in the Elephant Crusade.”

Balori was shocked but this. He grunted, but said nothing.

“It was wrong of us, wrong of the Eternal Empress. Wish that I could remake our histories.”

Balori breathed deep. He thought of Negkendra’s stand against Ghalib. He wondered at the man who was once supervisor over the Elephant Crusade now a crusader for the stars. He said, “I thank you for your stand. I thank you for your companionship now, though you once stood as my overseer.”

Negkendra nodded. Guilt weighed heavily upon him. He thought a moment of things, then said, “I wonder what’s happened with Ghalib.”

“I killed him,” informed Balori. “I crushed his head under my foot.”

This frightened Negkendra. He asked, “Why have you not done the same for me?”

Balori answered, “Because you ride with me now. I have much hatred filling my new form, Negkendra, but I fight it. I do not wish to be a simple killer, a mere spirit of vengeance. If I am to task myself with anything in this life, I must do so with intellect as well as passion and not with passion alone. To act on passion alone, I suppose I would take the hides and crush the heads of every man or woman in every country I came into. While that may be the act of vengeance, and I do enjoy the vengeance I took against Ghalib, I do not wish to be vengeful alone. I would like to commit something closer to justice, if I can.

“While once your were my overseer, while once you were amongst my captors, you are now at my side. I can assume you seek the same end as I?”

Negkendra nodded. “I seek righteousness. I cannot stand by and live my life while atrocities carry on in the world, especially when I once had a hand in them.”

“Then we are the same,” said Balori. “Many who travel with us now seek glory or wish only to be at my side so they can one day claim they were once at my side. I suspect many may run from us when we reach the Plain of Adoration. But you and I and Akadia and Macia are bound by the cause of righteousness.” Balori sighed, breathing easily now. He admitted, “Where once you were my enemy, now you are my brother.”

Negkendr turned and looked up at Balori. He smiled and said, “I, Negkendra the First Mahout, am at your side to the very end.”

Balori smiled back. “I know you will be.”

Balori moved his trunk to Negkendra’s side. With it he softly patted the former mahout, caressing him as he once caressed his own beloved Tafarri. To Balori’s accord, they were family now.

The two sat, Balori’s trunk about Negkendra’s shoulders, and stared into the dark, dark sky.

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CHAPTER 3

Momoki stepped cautiously through the silver forest. He knew the silver baboon was near, but he could not find the shiny creature. He feared a surprise attack. His fears were not unwarranted.

The silver baboon appeared from the silvery hide of a tree. His body melded perfectly with the dead thing, only his eyes could be seen against the tree’s bark, until, that is, it moved. The baboon shifted his weight and Momoki saw his movement as it catapulted from the tree at him.

Momoki screeched. He stumbled backwards under the weight of the baboon as he smacked Momoki in the face before running off and disappearing, blending with yet another tree.

Momoki stood. He peered about. His nerves settled. He knew he merely had to watch for the baboon’s movement. He saw it.

The baboon jumped, appearing from a tree’s branch. Momoki was able to sidestep, but still caught a claw to the face. A scar appeared across his cheek, but immediately began to heal.

Momoki watched as the baboon disappeared into the trees.

Radiant Gui, who was watching from the shadows outside the forest, spoke. His voice was deep and growling.

“You are well exposed, marmoset. Learn from the baboon’s ways.”

Momoki considered this. He was unsure what the demon meant. He wished he could see Radiant Gui, to speak with him and ask what it was he was required to do. He hated the demon that watched from the shadows.

Then a thought came to him. The shadows. Shadows grew long and full everywhere, especially in this land.

Momoki caught sight of silver streaking movement. The baboon launched itself into the air, descending upon the marmoset.

Momoki dropped to the blackened ground. He spread himself close to the chalky black dirt. He disappeared within its dark mass. Only his hat and eyes remained, but his form was difficult to determine.

Confused, the baboon struck where he had last seen Momoki, but Momoki crawled sideways and out of the way of the silver claws.

The baboon cackled angrily and jumped into the trees, bending well there.

Momoki moved within shadows, blending well there.

In the distance, Radiant Gui laughed with approval.

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CHAPTER 4

It took many days for Comet Fox to sober up upon the foothills of Taliesin. Xiao-tep cared for him in that time, sacrificing not his work for the Mountain that Lives in the Sky, but instead sacrificing his time with his friends Aglina and Zingtai.

As Kalavata flew overhead and Xiao-tep finished his day’s work of gardening, he came to Comet Fox who was resting upon a soft, cool, moss-covered stone. He brought with him fruits from the day’s harvest, including crab apples. Comet Fox ate them voraciously.

“It’s been a long time since last we met,” spoke Xiao-tep as he ate his own meal.

Comet Fox stayed his feeding a moment, the juice of the apples dripping from his long muzzle, and said, “That it has, friend. And I am ashamed I’ve come to you in the condition I did.”

“Thought I you swore off drinking.”

Comet Fox set the apple in his hand upon his knee. He stared at it a moment and thought of the wicked, enchanted fruits the demon Ketsueki Sato once fed him. He felt greater shame in his weakness. “I’m sorry, Xiao-tep. I-I suppose I grew weak. I’ve not had a good time of things as of late.”

“Oh?” Xiao-tep asked.

Comet Fox looked to the west and wondered if that was the direction of the Peony Tea House. “I’ve had a falling out with your sister.”

“Wu Chan Chu? Is she well?”

Comet Fox smiled. “You have much to be proud of her. She is champion at the Peony Tea House.”

Xiao-tep did not like this, despite Comet Fox’s assumption he would. Xiao-tep had learned to hate fighting. It pained him greatly to ham another creature. But he supposed Champion of the Peony of indeed a great feat. He said, “That is truly an accomplishment. I take it she’s well, then?”

“Oh, yes. She has all the food she can eat and all the tea she can drink. She’s come to favor the hooka. And she has room and board at the Peony as champion, and a cut of the teahouse’s winnings concerning her fighting. She has truly set herself up.”

Xiao-tep ate his apple. “Good. You spoke of a falling out?”

Comet Fox sighed. “Indeed. There was a theft at the Peony and I was blamed for it. As champion, of course, a theft against the Peony is a personal matter. We exchanged unfriendly words.”

“Hmm,” Xiao-tep considered this. “Were you behind the theft?”

Comet Fox wanted to be offended, but then realized the question was perhaps a good one to be asked. “No, it was merely assumed I was the thief.”

“Then where’s the problem?”

“Wu Chan Chu did the assuming. She struck me in anger and would not hear the truth of my innocence. I left,” Comet Fox picked the apple from his knee and bit it. As he chewed he said, somewhat forlornly, “That is when I returned to drinking. I felt full of shame and sorrow for myself. It was a stupid thing to drink under such emotion.”

Xiao-tep only nodded in concurrence.

“Thank you for caring for me, Xiao-tep. I see you’ve started a new life here? I had heard you were here from some migrating geese. I guess I came to see a familiar and friendly face.”

Xiao-tep looked to Comet Fox and smiled. He patted Comet Fox upon the knee where once the apple had been. “You’re always welcome here, old friend. Taliesin has been good to me. I care for her and she gives me plentiful fruits to eat. When I came here, the old caretaker had tragically gone. I am happy here.”

Comet Fox smiled and bit his apple, juice flowing from his mouth as he spoke, “Good. I am happy you’ve found a good home.”

“What of you?” Xiao-tep asked. “What have you done when last we met?”

Comet Fox finished his apple. “A great many things, including further training. But the largest event is my falling out with Wu Chan Chu. How I wish I could make matters better between us.”

They sat watching the world far below Taliesin.

After a while, after talking and reminiscing, they wondered up the mountain where Xiao-tep introduced Comet Fox to Aglina and Zingtai.

“She once was the stars,” explained Xiao-tep of Zingtai.

This jarred some memory within Comet Fox, the memory of a kind man who had cared for him while he was drinking and drunk and roaming the world. He said, “I believe I met a man in my travels, though truthfully I cannot recall if it is a memory or the memory of a dream. I believe he told me he was traveling to some plain…” Comet Fox’s face strained with consternation and thought. He said, “I believe it was the Plain of Adoration. They sought a demon and wanted to restore the stars. I seem to remember a Gifted One with them, a rather discourteous elephant.”

Xiao-tep’s eyes widened. “An elephant? Di he walk and talk as a man like we do?”

Comet Fox nodded.

“Balori!” he turned to Zingtai. “Zingtai! Balori remains on his quest for your jewel.”

At this Zingtai smiled and fluttered her wings happily. “If anyone can do this,” said she, “I begin to believe it will be him.”

“Know you this elephant?” asked Comet Fox.

Xiao-tep said they did, “He came to us some time ago seeking the matter with the night sky. He said he was sent forth by an empress to return the stars. When he came here, he learned of the theft of Zingtai’s jewel and the reason for her disappearance from the night. He must still be looking for her stolen jewel.”

Comet Fox said, “They appeared rather determined.” He wondered a moment. Curiousity infected him, as it always does, and he said, “Perhaps we should go find this Balori, go see this Plain of Adoration. I would bet the demon has Zingtai’s jewel.”

Xiao-tep shook his head vigorously. “No. This is Balori’s matter, not ours.”

“What matters whose matter it is? I didn’t ask to join his quest. I simply wish to see this demon they spoke up upon the Plain of Adoration. What harm could come by merely looking?”

Xiao-tep could not answer this. He could find no harm in it, yet he did not wish to be involved. He did not wish to be caught in a fight against yet another demon. He shook his head vigorously.

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CHAPTER 5

Momoki screeched in fear as the golden baboon chased him through the silver forest. He hid within the forest’s shadows, which work to some extent, but the baboon was far larger and stronger. He tried to parry and deflect the gold baboon’s assaults, some of which worked but many of the blows the gold baboon threw landed upon Momoki, knocking him backwards further and further.

Frustration welled within Momoki. If he were to take the fisted blows of the golden baboon, he wanted to give the creature a taste of the assaults. Momoki took a punch to the face, balled his fist and threw a punch of his own. It was weak and bounced harmlessly off the baboon’s neck.

The baboon paused his assault. He peered at Momoki, then cackled hysterically with laughter at his weak attack.

Radiant Gui sighed and stepped from the shadows. Said he, “Damn your hide, marmoset! If you are to defend yourself you must know how to deflect an attack or hide. But if you are to topple a demon, you must know also how to fight. That was no attack. That was pathetic. We must equalize the gold baboon’s strength with your own.

“Now think, marmoset. Think of some thing that you used in your day-to-day life, something you know well and are familiar with, something you can use as a weapon.”

Momoki thought on this. He searched his memory of his life on Taliesin. In his hand appeared a small, black version of his smoking pipe.

“What is this?” raged Radiant Gui. “A pipe? Of all the things you must have used you think of a pipe?”

Momoki, ashamed, lowered his head and said, “It was there during my happiest times. I would smoke it when my friends and I would picnic under the trees.”

“Bah! What a fool! A pipe is no weapon!” Radiant Gui sighed. He shook his head in disgust. “Very well, carry on with your training.” Radiant Gui melted again into the shadows.

At this the gold baboon struck. He pounced atop Momoki, slamming him to the ground. Momoki struggled to get away from him, beating the baboon about the head with the pipe. This did nothing to the baboon but further anger him.

At last Momoki thought of his first fight, with the amethyst baboon, and how he allowed that baboon to close in so he may wrestle it off himself. Momoki stopped defending, stopped fighting the gold baboon and let his muzzle come close to Momoki’s face with its snarling, saliva-cover teeth. The teeth snapped at Momoki and as they came so close Momoki thought he might be bitten, he lifted his pipe, turned it round and used the pointed mouthpiece as a small spear.

The pipe entered the gold baboon’s temple.

The baboon screamed in horror. He let go of Momoki, stumbled backward, then toppled.

Momoki lifted himself off the ground. He had fought before coming to Hell, but never before had he taken the life of another creature. He stared at the gold baboon with his mouth ajar as Radiant Gui laughed in the background. Momoki felt as though everything within his form suddenly sank, leaving him incredibly empty.

Radiant Gui stepped out of the shadows once more. He said, “I suppose your pipe is a good weapon after all.”

The horse-demon grabbed the pipe with the tips of his massive claws. He pulled it free from the dead baboon’s temple. He handed it back to Momoki.

“Your training is now complete. You should be proud. You’ll ride against Yaska Selith in the name of all demons. But now you must train your own band of warriors to ride with you. I will hand-pick these warriors and I will chose those who have fallen in some way to Yaska Selith. Such warriors, ones with some investment in the outcome, are most likely to succeed, and succeed you must.”

The horse-demon looked into the distance, as if thinking. Momoki thought as if he were worried.

“Y-you’re afraid?” he said.

Radiant Gui looked to Momoki. His face twisted with anger.

“Me? Afraid? Bah! I fear nothing!” the demon lied. “But know this: the one who cursed all demons did so due to Yaska Selith. Though she is a mere demi-goddess, she could cause all the layers of Hell some problems should she decide to fulfill her curse. This is why I train you, to avoid that minor complication. But if we can rid the world of this pseudo-demon, this false demon that causes peril for all demons, she will most likely forget her curse.”

Momoki nodded in understanding.

“Know this, too, marmoset: I know I’ve proven myself a liar, but should you succeed, I will promise never to harm your friends. Have we a deal?”

Momoki nodded. “I will do this.”

Radiant Gui left Momoki.

Momoki returned to the massive doors of the Chamber of Despair. He opened them and entered. The doors shut behind him.

His friends sat in the hut, chatting idly. Gogi, seeing Momoki had returned, ran to his side, saying, “Momoki! Momoki! Look!”

Gogi lead him to a corner of the courtyard that had obviously been worked. Gogi said, “I brought with me a few seeds, so today while you were out I worked the ground here and planted them. I’m uncertain that they’ll grow. The soil here doesn’t look particularly fertile and while you and Twila don’t need to eat, Szu Ri and I still do and so I planted this garden.”

Gogi looked up at Momoki, seeking approval. “Is this okay with you, Momoki.”

Momoki smiled down at his friend, though his smile went unseen. Momoki nodded, saying, “It is, indeed, old friend. I’m proud of you.”

Hearing this, Gogi swelled with pride in himself. He looked at his garden before returning to the hut with Momoki.

Szu Ri and Twila welcomed him back.

“Are you well, Momoki?” Twila asked.

Momoki nodded and stroked her head with a loving finger. He then said to his friends, “I’ll soon have to leave this Chamber. I hope it will only be for a short time. But I’d like the three of you to go with me. I do not trust you under the care of Radiant Gui.”

His friends knew what he was asked to do, knew he was to fight a demon with others. They feared going with him. But they also feared Radiant Gui.

At last Twila said, “As long as we’re with you, we know we’ll be okay.”

Szu Ri and Gogi nodded in agreement.

They chatted on other things for a time before, tired, Szu Ri and Gogi fell asleep. Twila cuddled up next to Momoki as he watched over them.

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CHAPTER 6

Wu Chan Chu kicked the doors of the Peony Tea House open, nearly kicking them both from the hinges. She pulled the mule and its cart into the teahouse until, at last, he stopped them in the center of the fighting floor. He called out for Sal Igo and the owner of the teahouse came. He recognized the coffers immediately.

“The coffers!” cried Sal Igo. “you’ve returned them to the teahouse! Our hero is Wu Chan Chu!”

Great applause was sent up for the frog demi-goddess.

Sal Igo pulled her aside. “Where did you find them, my friend?”

“I discovered the real thieves, one being Roku whom I turned into you. The other escaped me, but I was able to retrieve the coffers for you. Know this: Comet Fox had no dealings in the theft.”

Sal Igo nodded. “Very well. Now let us discuss your return as our champion. We’ll have to redecorate your room, but we’ll put it back the way it was before, or make it better if you’d like.”

Wu Chan Chu considered this. Guilt filled her for having blamed Comet Fox without evidence as the thief. She said, “No, I’ll not be your champion.”

“But why? Do you wish a larger cut in the winnings? If so, then it is done.”

Wu Cha Chu shook her head. “No. I’ve got to find the other thief and bring him to justice. It’s the least I can do since…” she wanted to say she wanted to do more than clear Comet Fox’s name, but to bring the real thief to justice in the name of her friend. She could not bring herself to do this, however. She said, “I’ll take my brass knuckles and a reward and I’ll go.”

“Go? Feh! You’ll go nowhere and I’ll pay you no reward! I offered no reward!”

Wu Chan Chu grabbed the man by his throat. “I believe a reward is nonetheless appropriate.”

Sal Igo nodded. “Okay, okay. You’ll receive a small reward.”

Wu Chan Chu let him go.

And so the frog demi-goddess gather provisions and left the Peony Tea House, heading east, searching for the Immortal called Black Tentacle.

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CHAPTER 7

Rain fell hard upon the lands as thunderstorm after thunderstorm rolled over the farmlands.

Shabar packed a small sack and saddlebags with preserved fruits and a bedroll, items he would need while traveling.

“You cannot do this to me,” said Alai. “You cannot do it to your children. By the gods, Shabar, you have an unborn child!”

Shabar did not look at her as he continued packing. “I called on Old Man Arnas again. I did so yesterday. He knows I’m leaving. In two days’ time he’ll send his daughter here or when the rains let up. She had three children. She’ll be able to help with the birth.”

Alia filled with anger. She slapped Shabar hard along the length of his cheek. He did not turn to her. He did not respond except a brief pause in his packing.

He began packing again.

“I don’t understand why you go. There are others to go forth like this, others without families and without children. I’m certain they are on their way to make things right.”

Shabar stopped his packing. He finally looked at his wife. “I’m certain there are others, too. But I cannot allow this to carry on, especially since I had a hand in matters. Even if I had no part in things, I could not stand by. I cannot help but think those who watch atrocities committed by others are much involved in their continuance. I cannot watch.” He returned to his packing. “I have to go.”

“You are a damned fool! Don’t you care for your family? Why would you leave us?”

Shabar’s son, frightened at his arguing parents, scrambled from under the table where they ate to hide under his wooden bed beside the stove and its warming fire. He could not understand the things happening in his home, but he knew his father was leaving. He didn’t want his father to leave, but was unsure how to keep him home.

She followed him outside where he placed a saddle upon his mule. She stood under the overhanging eave of their home Shabar had built himself. She watched him.

Shabar came to her side. “Kiss me a last time before I go.”

Again Alia slapped him across the face.

“Don’t let me leave like this,” he begged.

“I won’t kiss you!” screamed Alia. “I won’t love a man that will not stay and provide for his family! I cannot love you! I hate you!”

She slapped him again.

Shabar glowered at her. He turned and mounted his mule.

Alia ran out into the rain. Thunder broke high overhead as she cried out, “If you leave, don’t ever come back! Don’t ever show your face here again! I hate you! I hate you! Don’t you dare come back!”

She collapsed into mud. Her chest heaved with sobs. Her hands surrounded her belly as she tried to hug her unborn child. “Shabar!” she screamed. “Shabar! Don’t leave me! No! No! Don’t! Shabaaar!”

Thunder roared. Rains pounded the lands around her, staining her clothes with thick mud. She screamed and screamed as Shabar left her.

As he rode away, Shabar’s tears disappeared into the rain.

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CHAPTER 8

As Balori’s army grew and marched from the west; as Wu Chan Chu came from the far, far northwest; as Shabar left his heartbroken wife and traveled south; as Momoki the Marmoset was training in Hell; so came Comet Fox to the Black Mountains that bordered the western edge of the Plain of Adoration and with him, at the urging of his friends Aglina and Zingtai, came Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish. They came, flying from the beautiful mountain Taliesin and lighted upon one small mountain within the Black Mountains range. They peered down into the valley and onto the Plain of Adoration.

There they saw the horrors of the Bone Warrior army. There they saw the vile orgies and wicked fighting the followers of the demon-dog dearly loved. There they saw the Weasel King Raiju Yu as he raped small boys. There they saw Neboshazzar feasting upon the flesh of the weak and the dead. There they saw the Brothers Jackal howling with laughter at the mention of the torment of others. And there, lastly, they saw the gigantic demon-dog known as Yaska Selith.

“By the gods,” gasped Comet Fox, “he is far larger than even Ketsueki Sato.”

Xiao-tep nodded in concurrence.

“Could it mean he is also stronger?” Comet Fox asked.

Xiao-tep did not answer for he did not know.

Within the Ankh-fish waged a war of emotions. Never did he want to fight again. Never did he want to take up arms against another creature, even one most evil. He loved his life within the fields and gardens of Taliesin. He loved his friends Aglina and Zingtai and Otti. He did not want to fight, yet he knew this blight upon the land needed expunging. He, at last, made his decision.

“I must return to Taliesin to retrieve my Spear of Sorrows,” said he. “And we will need help.”

Comet Fox cocked his head curiously. He thought a moment. He then asked and suggested both at once, “Wu Chan Chu?”

Xiao-tep merely nodded, saying, “And perhaps many more.”

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That's it folks! I hope you've enjoyed "Song of Momoki". Come back next week to read Act I of "Warriors of the Midnight Sun", the final tale within this storyline set in the wuxia world of The Children of Gods.