"The Tiger and the Hare" -- Act III

"The Tiger and the Hare" -- Act III

In honor of the Chinese New Year (and thus the beginning of the Year of the Tiger), today I’m finally posting Act III of “The Tiger and the Hare”. The last time this story was visited was way back in July, 2009 when I posted Act II on July 24th.

It's been a long time coming. Now here it is.

Enjoy.

~ Charles

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"The Tiger and the Hare" copyright 2010 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

ACT III

BY THE MOON POND: Wherein Lung Ti Chen Chiang is Born, Destined to Become a Warrior; Muruku Meets with Vibol Walid; The Hunters Become the Hunted; Tiger Chiang Grows Restless

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PART 1

In the hottest, wildest part of the world mortals took up arms to hunt and kill the great tigers of the Korrawi Jungle, to strip from them their marrow and bones to be ground into alchemical hermetics. All manner of mortals hunted the tigers until their numbers were few. Once had the great tigers counted themselves in many tribes, had kings and queens that ruled vast lands. Yet after the hunts only a hundred or more remained, coming together to fight against their wicked predators.

Seeing his people suffer and die, witnessing the survivors on the verge of giving up hope, Macan the Eldest called together all tigers and spoke to them.

"What is needed," he said to his people, his aging face slow to move with the strain of speech, "is a hero. Now is the hour we make our final stand. If we do not find someone willing to fight, willing to kill voraciously our enemies, we will be wiped clean from the world. This may well anger the gods, but we cannot depend upon them wholly for the preservation of our lives. We must step forward, we must take the fight to our hunters, and we must have someone we trust, one to inspire us into battle, to lead us with hope."

The young, bold, brash Muruku stepped forward, his head adorned with a headdress of peacock feathers and said, "Have I not served well enough as your hero? Have I not lead my people into battle?"

"Yes," agreed Macan. "But not all of us. We need every tooth, every claw in this fight. While no one could argue your passion or ferocity, Muruku, you are also careless in battle and that inspires fear as much as it inspires hope. And fear will curtail our efforts. We must leap headlong into the fight without doubt. You, dear Muruku, create as much doubt as promise."

"Lies!" Muruku cried, offended, growling at the elderly Macan. At his growl, a pair of young cubs nearby scurried behind their mother, hiding.

“You see,” spoke Macan as he stood, his aging frame creaking with pain, and walked near the cubs. The young tigers came out of hiding and looked adoringly upon Macan the Eldest, looking upon him with awe and respect. “You frighten Kairya and Nutoos, they who are bold with youth and lack the knowledge of true danger, they who have yet to see the brutality of battle, cringe in fear of your growl. While I trust your loyalties are with your people, your paw is much too heavy. You would likely lick the fur right off your own progeny, Muruku.”

Muruku growled again, but pathetically. He looked around and as Macan continued to speak, he slunk to the back of those gathered, ashamed.

“What is needed,” spoke Macan, “is a hero. One that can challenge those that hunt us. He must be strong enough to fight and to kill, yet wise enough to appeal to our predators that outnumber us.”

“Where would we find such a hero?” asked T’salina, mother and warrior for the tigers. Her legs were decorated with three peacock feathers apiece tied by sun dried vines above the joint.

“We would not find such a warrior,” replied Macan. “We must make one. We will take the strongest and wisest amongst us and together they will make a child. And as the mother carries her babe within her belly, I shall conduct a ritual, an ancient ritual, the evokes the spirits of our ancestors to ask them to aide in strengthening this child.”

The tigers looked to one another with wonder, whispering to one another which of them would be chosen as mother and father to this proposed hero-child.

Once more Muruku strode proudly forward. He said, “I am the strongest of all gathered here. I pledge my strength to this child.”

“You see only your own pleasures,” an unknown tiger called out, causing a ripple of giggling from the others.

Muruku growled at them.

“This time,” commanded Macan, “Muruku is correct. He is the swiftest, wiliest, deadliest warrior we have. He would make a fine father.”

Muruku purred happily at Macan’s words.

“Now, for his mate,” Macan considered the collected tigresses.

T’salina stepped forward. “I would be a wise choice, though I immediately regret my choice of mate.”

A few more tigers struggled to contain their laughter. Muruku scowled at them.

“You are a deft and mighty warrior, T’salina, but an improper choice. What you have to offer the child, Muruku already offers. What is needed is a wise and honorable, a nurturing and respectful mother to counter Muruku’s lack of tact and worldly knowledge.”

T’salina bowed out from the center of the circled tigers, relieved in a way she would not have to mate with Muruku.

One of the young tiger cubs bounded forward. He looked up at Macan, in awe of his age and size. He spoke with excitement. “The one you described sounds very much like Mother. She is wise. She knows everything! Every day I ask her about any little thing and she knows all about it. I’ve learned so much from her. And she is always fair with us. She treats everyone as family and has us call them auntie or uncle though we know there is no real relation between us. And she is always telling us to be kind and respectful! Who more closely resembles the tigress you seek than my mother?”

Many of the gathered tigers smiled at the cub’s exuberance and his offering up his mother for rather adult matters he most likely did not fully understand. His mother smiled, blushing and slightly embarrassed.

Macan scowled down at the cub. “You know the rules: no cubs are allowed to speak at these gatherings. You’ve not earned the right.”

“Perhaps the child is out of turn,” said Dal, a nearby tiger and long friend of Macan, “but he makes a valid point. If you will not accept his suggestion, Macan, then I will make it in his stead.”

Suea, mother to the outspoken cub, was a beautiful tigress. She loped languidly towards her child, unhurried, unafraid, gracefully. She shooed her child from out of the center of the tigers. She bowed to Macan and apologized for the interruption. As she rounded to return to her place where her cubs now sat, Macan stopped her.

“Suea, please, wait a moment,” said Macan. “What Dal suggests is true. You would make a wonderful mother to our hero. I understand you’ve currently 2 children, but we would all help to raise the hero-child. Would you be so willing? So obligating? Would you help out your fellow tigers?”

Suea considered Macan a moment. She chose her words carefully. “Do you all feel this way?”

A general agreement was sounded.

Suea looked to Muruku, then to Macan. “I will do what must be done for our people. I will do this as an investment in the futures of my children. I will bear you your hero-child.”

The tigers roared with delight.

The following night, Suea left her cubs with T’salina.

“I do not envy you,” T’salina admitted to Suea.

“Why? Because of Muruku?” asked Suea.

“And for no other reason,” responded T’salina.

Suea smiled, a little timid, and said, “He’s not so bad. You trust him in battle.”

“In battle he is fierce and treacherous. I fear he may be similarly inclined as a mate.”

Suea shrugged, “It’s for one night only.”

T’salina nodded.

“Behave for your Auntie T’salina,” Suea called to her cubs. She then rounded and walked to the Moon Pond where she met with Muruku.

Muruku sat by the small shore, eying the reflection of the moon in the dark waters. Suea walked near, sitting beside him.

“It’s quite a lovely night,” Muruku surprised Suea with these gentle words.

Suea agreed that it was a lovely night.

A frog jumped into the pond nearby, croaking. The water rippled, breaking the image and spell of the moon.

Muruku looked to Suea.

Suea eyed Muruku.

Many days later, Suea began to show with child.

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PART 2

Came the night when Macan evoked the ancestors. He called upon Suea to meet him by the Moon Pond. There he lit a fire, burned incense and awaited her arrival. When she appeared, he had her lay on her belly beside the fire.

“Will this hurt much?” asked Suea, afraid for her child.

“Not at all,” soothed Macan. “I must merely chant, calling upon our ancestors to bless this child.”

Suea nodded with understanding, lying her head on the cool dirt.

Macan began to chant. Suea recognized him calling out the names of particular ancestors and heroes from tiger lore. With this, she felt the weight and importance of matters. She sighed a deep breath.

The moon shone down into the still pond. Without a frog’s jump, without a creature’s stirring, the pond began to ripple. The reflected image of the moon broke and from its depths rose pearlescent mists that formed into ghostly tigers. These were the spirits of ancestors that had long ago passed. They walked upon the water and came to Suea’s side. She looked upon them both with fear and wonder.

“How powerful the chants of Macan,” she whispered.

As more ancestors rose from the pond came forth, those all ready by Suea’s side broke into mist once more. These mists flowed gently before Suea’s face and entered her nose as she naturally breathed. She felt no pain from this, though she feared the affects. But as the spirits filled her body she could feel them place loving paws and blessings upon the child growing in her belly and she was relieved.

More ancestors came forth, first tens then a hundred.

Finally, out of the broken reflection of the moon came a final shape, a final form. He walked upon two legs across the waters of the pond. He stepped upon the shore and Macan recognize this spirit to be that of a man in a hunter’s clothes and not of a tiger. Macan called out, “Halt! You’ve no purpose here.”

“Oh, but I do,” spoke the ghostly man.

Macan eyed him. “What is your name?”

“Once I was called Sartemon.”

“What purpose have you here, Sartemon?”

Sartemon hesitated before answering. “Once I hunted your people and I was quite proficient at it. One of your warriors, the father to this child, killed me in battle.”

“Muruku killed you?”

“Indeed.”

Macan growled and hunched his back. His whiskers wavered with fury. “I’ll not let you take your revenge upon Muruku’s child!”

“I am not here for that,” said Sartemon. “I am here to bless the hero-child.”

This confused Macan. He was uncertain he should trust the man’s spirit. “Explain yourself, hunter!”

“Once I hunted your people. Now I know this to have been wrong. My one sorrow is that I’d not learned this prior to my death. When I learned of Muruku’s child, I had to come to bless him. It is the only way I can find peace.”

“You knew of this child? Of my plan?” asked Macan.

Sartemon nodded. “All that is dead spies on all that is left living.”

Macan was yet uncertain. “What do you plan to do with the child?”

“I can bless him in ways your people cannot. I will imbue within him all my skills, all my knowledge. He will know what men know and will do what men can do.”

Macan was yet wary, but trusted the Cosmos in having purpose for this man’s spirit. He nodded to Sartemon, “Watch yourself. I do not know how to harm a spirit such as yourself, but should you harm that child I will find a way to do so.”

Sartemon nodded. He walked to Suea’s side. He knelt near her and pet her. His form then dissipated and Suea was able to breathe him in and inside her belly she felt the man’s hands gently caressing the babe there, blessing him. A moment later, she felt her child change.

“Macan!” she cried.

Macan ran to her. “What is it, Suea?”

“The man… he changed… something’s happened!”

“What? What’s happened?” asked Macan, afraid he had chosen unwisely.

“I do not understand quite. Something’s different about my child, though. I can’t understand it, though.”

“Search, Suea. Feel your child. Is he harmed?” Macan commanded.

Suea closed her eyes and felt her child. She could yet feel his heartbeat, his movements. “I-I don’t think so. There’s simply something different.”

The ceremony done, Suea and Macan walked back into the deep jungle. As they went, Suea asked Macan, “Has the man hurt my child?”

Macan sighed. He refused to lie to Suea as she was their hero’s mother. He said simply, “I don’t know.”

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PART 3

Suea’s belly swelled within weeks. She became very ill and was constantly exhausted. Macan began to suspect their hero-child had been cursed. He did not admit this, however, to anyone but himself. Nor did he share the tale of the ghostly man he and Suea has seen.

With a breath and immense pain, the cub was born seven weeks from the hour of conception. Suea lived long enough to gaze upon her child and clean him. But the pregnancy had been too much for her and that night, as she lay sleeping, she drew her last beleaguered breath before passing on.

The next morning, the tigers gathered round the stump of a tree. Muruku came forth, the cub in his mouth, and placed the would-be hero upon the stump.

Macan pawed the ground, sad. He spoke low, yet still with command. Said he, “Suea has passed. She now rests with the ancestors. This cub before us is not orphaned. Not only has he a father but a hundred of his people to raise him. We must raise him. No matter the personal sacrifice, we must care for this child, train him and raise him.”

With this, Macan stepped forward and mounted the stump. He then sat next to the cub, yet struggling to look at the world. Macan looked to him, saw his elongated legs and man-like hands. He worried for the child.

“Though fur covers his form like the rest of us, though he has a tail and whiskers and face like us all, this child has not been born quite like us,” spoke Macan. “He has the paws of a man, with a thumb that helps him to grasp. And his hind legs are longer. I suspect he will walk on those legs much like a man.”

The gathered tigers whispered, rumbling with rumors.

“Please, please,” called Macan. “I may have a reason for this. The night of the ceremony, Suea and I were visited by the spirit of a man. This spirit had died hunting our people. He confessed he had seen the error of his efforts much to late and requested to bless our hero-child.”

“You shouldn’t have allowed him! Now our hero is deformed!” called an angry tiger.

Macan held up a paw to quite the tigers.

“Perhaps you are correct. It has since been the heaviest question weighing upon me. But what is done is done and we must deal with this child as he is.”

“Let’s kill him!” yelled another tiger.

A few other tigers agreed.

Again Macan raised his paw for silence. “We cannot kill one of our own. Our numbers are so few as it is.”

“He is an abomination!” yet another tiger yelled.

“Perhaps! But he is our abomination! We created him! We all agreed to create this child and now we must raise him as our own!” Macan growled ferociously. The gathered tigers quieted. “Perhaps he will still be of use to us. Perhaps he may yet be our hero.”

“There’s a lot of ‘perhaps’ in your current train of thoughts,” spoke Muruku. The warrior-tiger joined Macan on the trunk. He said to the rest, “But this is my child, for good or for bad, and I will kill any of you that lays even a single claw or tooth upon his neck.”

Macan eyed Muruku. He whispered so only they may hear, “Thank you Muruku.”

Muruku whispered back, “Give your great orations. Give those gathered here reason to help this child.”

Macan nodded. He spoke to the tigers. “With this cub’s form we may be able to better communicate with our predators. But then, we may not. What I know is that you all loved Suea. She was the most beautiful of our kind. She was the kindest, gentlest tiger in all our numbers. To do anything short of loving her child is to forget her entirely. We must raise this cub as our own. We must raise our hero correctly.”

And though not all the hearts of the tigers were committed to caring for the cub, all had silently agreed to never attack the cub.

Macan looked upon the cub scrambling to stand, yet falling. The elder breathed deep and addressed the tigers again, “Now we must name this cub. What shall we call him?”

Muruku was the first to speak. “I had thought we might call him Lung Ti, after my grandfather.”

Macan nodded at this. He said, “It is a fine name, but might I also suggest he needs a leader’s name, a royal’s name? He should be called Chen.”

Muruku nodded at this.

T’salina stepped forward and said, “As our hero, he should have a name as enduring as we need him to be. We should call him Chiang.”

Looking about, Macan saw no one else offering a name. He said, “It is settled then. This cub’s name will be Lung Ti Chen Chiang.”

All nodded in agreement.

That night, many of the tigers lounged together. Macan placed the cub in T’salina’s care. As Kalavata flew overhead, Muruku excused himself.

“Where do you go?” asked T’salina.

“There are many of us here,” said Muruku. “It would not do well to be ambushed by hunters. I will walk the area on patrol.”

T’salina accepted this lie and curled to sleep next to Muruku’s child.

Once out of sight from the rest of the tigers, Muruku turned and padded north along a small creak. He walked a good hour before coming upon a makeshift encampment. He sat watching for some time, watching for the man he had come to see.

Vibol Walid was a portly man. But as big as his belly was, so was his chest. His beard was a blend of anarchy and symphony. His eyebrows were as thick and black as his mustache. His hair was long, tied and wound into a bun atop his head. Though he was a wealthy merchant by trade, he wore a simple blue sarong embellished with gold and a blue shirt.

He was escorted by three men into a private courtyard enclosed by a bamboo fence. Muruku was just able to look over the fence while seated atop a small hill. Two men together carried a long table as high as Vibol’s chest. The third man carried a tray with three overturned bowls resting atop it. Vibol pointed and the two men carrying the table set down the table and disappeared into other parts of the encampment. The third man carefully , with every effort towards caution, slid the overturned bowls onto the table. He, too, then escaped into some tent. Vibol was left alone.

Vibol removed his shirt to reveal a giant cobra tattooed upon his chest in purple and deep blue. Tied at his waist by a red silk sash and under his shirt was a single curved blade within a scabbard. He then grabbed a thin stick. He walked with the stick to the table and pulled each bowl from off the table and flung them, one by one, onto the ground. As Vibol turned each bowl and threw it to the ground, Muruku could see under each bowl sat a coiled cobra.

With each cobra now exposed, all the bowls on the ground, Vibol took to lightly smacking the cobras about the head with the stick. Each cobra, in turn, grew agitated and fanned out its hood, taking a striking position. When Vibol was happy that each cobra was sufficiently angry, he rid himself of the stick and stepped forward.

Vibol raised his hands, palms out, his left palm extending farther out than his right. His eyes leveled on the cobras. He stood motionless a moment before striking out. With each strike he reached out to touch, to tap lightly, the side of the hood of each cobra. In turn, each cobra would lunge to counterstrike only to find Vibol hand pulled his hand away and the cobras bit at phantom air.

Muruku was in awe of the swiftness of the large man. He stood and padded down the hill to beside the bamboo fence and to growl there.

Vibol did not take his eyes from the cobras, but he did cease his martial practice a moment. He spoke lowly, “Come.”

Mururku appeared at the edge of the fence and deftly flowed into the private courtyard. He sat nearby, watching Vibol as he continued with his practice.

“You are quick,” Muruku commented.

Vibol grunted. This time he reached out to grab one of the cobras by the neck and hood just below the head so the cobra could not bend low to bite the hand that grabbed him. Vibol pulled him off the table and with his free left hand grabbed his short sword. He placed the edge of the blade below his right hand holding the cobra and cut the snake in two.

Vibol said with some authority and drama, “I can also be proficiently deadly should I chose to be.”

He then threw the severed cobra’s head into a corner of the private courtyard. It bounced against the bamboo fence, its mouth closed and opened and venom spewed from its teeth.

“Do not go near that head,” warned Vibol. “They are just as dangerous dead as they are alive.”

Muruku eyed the head and nodded.

Vibol replaced his sword, picked up two of the bowls and placed them over the cobras once more. As he did this, he said, “You should not have killed my hunter recently.”

“If you were not so stubborn and informed them of my plan, they would not come after me so fiercely. And if your hunter had not come for me so fiercely, I would not have needed to kill him to preserve my own life.”

“We cannot tell them of our arrangement. If they knew, their greed would propel them into convincing you to lead your people to slaughter. Once your people are killed off, my business would see an end. I must keep myself between them and the tigers to maintain my business… perhaps for the rest of my life. My partners and hunters must remain in the dark about many things.”

Muruku said, “And in turn my people little often meet with death. It is an awkward but appropriate balance.”

Vibol asked, “What news have you from the tigers?”

“A new cub has been born.”

“Good. It’s about time. I’ll need a whole new generation to replenish the alchemical supplies of my clientele.”

“This cub is rather different.”

“Oh?” Vibol placed his shirt on once more.

Muruku nodded. “He will stand as a man and has hands like a man instead of paws like a tiger.”

Vibol considered this. “How can this be?”

“Our leader Macan devised to create a progeny, an offspring groomed to be a hero to stand against your hunters.”

“Hmmm,” Vibol said, thinking. “We cannot have your people fighting back. That would never do.”

“No. Many more would die,” reminded Muruku.

“Yes. My clientele doesn’t need to be so greedy. They can suffice with me taking a single tiger here and there.”

“Well then, when this new tiger is grown, allow him to be the first to slip by your defense, allow him to be separated and left alone like the others. I and my men will come for him and do away with him.”

Muruku considered this. He wondered if he could allow his son to be sacrificed for the safety of all his people. He said, “He grows swiftly. I suspect it will not take much time for him to come of a size satisfying your needs.”

“Good. Do you need more from me?” Vibol smiled.

“No,” Muruku said. He left the courtyard as quietly as he had entered.

Muruku walked the jungle, pondering Vibol’s desires. He came to the collected tigers, many of which were sleeping. He eyed his people, asking himself if his choices were correct. He then padded over to T’salina. His cub slept soundly nearby. Muruku lowered his head and smelled at his cub.

T’salina awoke momentarily. She looked up at Muruku and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Muruku looked to her. “Nothing. I’m checking on our hero.”

T’salina lowered her head and slipped once again into slumber.

Muruku looked down upon his child. As the moon traveled its course across the night sky, he felt the tug of fatherhood upon his heart.

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PART 4

Lung Ti Chen Chiang, called simply Chiang by the tigers, grew swiftly, far more swiftly than imaginable. In six weeks he learned to walk on his hind legs, to grab up sticks with his pawed hands and even began to hunt with Muruku. Six weeks more proved greater growth for Chiang. He now stood taller than a man and had shoulders wider than the largest horse. He was told at least once a day the purpose for his existence.

He hunted with Muruku and T’salina and others. They taught him to leap upon his prey, to grab at the neck to break the spine with his teeth or choke the life from the prey. He soon realized that Muruku and the other tigers, while they could teach him to use his many senses, could not teach him to fight for they knew not how to fight in a Man’s form. Chiang came to Macan with this dilemma.

He knelt before Macan. He had come to love and respect the elder tiger and saw him as his grandfather. He said in his thunderous, growling voice, “Grandfather Macan, Muruku and the others do well to teach me the ways of the tiger. Yet I am not solely a creature in a tiger’s form. I have the features of a man and I must learn to fight and to hunt as such, as well. What can I do to remedy this matter?”

Macan thought this over. He thought back to the many times he had witnessed men fighting his people, thinking about how they fought. He said, “First, they use their hands almost exclusively and often with weapons. We must first teach you to use your hands to grasp at your enemies.”

Chiang agreed.

Macan asked Chaing to follow him to the Rainbow River, which took half a night’s hike to reach, and together they sat by the water’s edge. Macan said, “The salmon are spawning here now. Sleep now and at first light, I want you to awake and catch our breakfast using nothing but your claws.”

Chiang did as he was told. He slept the rest of the night and the next morning he awoke, treaded water to the center of the river and there began swatting at fish. He found the river’s current difficult to stand in, but soon his legs strengthened against the water. Chiang swatted at a fish, then two more. The salmon went flying through the air to crash upon the shore where they flopped around some before they died.

Macan called out, “Your striking ability is good, but it is not enough! I want you to reach out and grab hold of the fish!”

Chiang tried this as Macan ate the three salmon upon the shore. He found grabbing at the squirming, swimming powerful fish far more difficult than swatting at them.

“Can I not simply claw at them?” asked Chiang.

“No!” Macan denied him. “Any tiger can do that! Grab them! Grab them and once you’ve got a hold of them throw them ashore!”

Chiang breathed deep, determined to grab at least one fish. He watched the fish swimming against the river’s current. He waited and when one fish leaped from the waters, Chiang reached with terrible swiftness and grabbed the fish. He was stunned by his newfound ability. He cried out, smiling at Macan who sat on the shore and held the fish high to him.

“Throw it here!” called Macan.

Chaing did this. Macan inspected the fish and found that Chiang’s claws had dug deeply into the fish’s sides. He ate up the fish and called, “Do it again, but this time watch your claws! Do not spear the fish with your claws!”

Chaing understood what his elder meant, that he must learn to use his hands without his claws as a man might. He waited patiently and when two fish jumped from the water simultaneously, Chiang – without thought – grabbed at and caught them both, one in each hand. He held them high over his head to show Macan and hooted.

Again Macan called to have the fish thrown upon the shore. Chiang did this, Macan inspected them and was happy to find both fish unmarked by claws.

Macan commanded Chiang to shore. Chiang did this and was allowed to eat these last two fish.

“Now,” said Macan, “Grab a large stick and sharpen it with your teeth.”

After eating, Chiang grabbed up a branch from nearby and bit off the end to a point.

Macan commanded him back into the waters where he spent the rest of the day practicing at spearing the fish with the branch. By late afternoon the was a small mountain of fish upon the shore next to the lounging Macan.

The elder tiger called Chiang ashore and commanded him to make a large basket out of banana leaves. He new that Chiang must take care to not allow his claws to tear at the leaves lest he start over again. Chiang made the basket rather deftly and loaded the fish into the basket, then placed the basket upon his back.

Macan and Chiang came back to the rest of the tigers at nightfall with the basket of salmon and they had a feast in his honor. After the night’s mean, Macan came to Chiang and said, “I know not much else of Men. I can teach you no more.”

“And I have done well to teach you what I know,” said Muruku.

“You are ready to fulfill your purpose,” said Macan.

Chiang growled. He said, “Then I will go tonight.”

“No!” yelped Muruku. “You are… are most tired, son. You have trained all day. you must rest now.”

Macan agreed with this. Chiang begrudgingly agreed to sleep that night. “But my morning’s first light,” he swore, “I will lead an army of our people against those that would hunt us and put an end to their ways.”

Muruku, worried, slipped from the tiger encampment once more that night. He made his way once more to the hunters’ encampment where he met with Vibol Walid once again. In the soft torchlight of the makeshift courtyard they spoke.

“The cub has grown larger than a man,” warned Muruku. “He has received training from Macan and plans to attack your people at first light.”

“His growth has been incredible!”

“It has,” agreed Muruku.

“Can you stay his desire?” asked Vibol.

“I fear I may not be able to,” answered Muruku.

Vibol’s eyes narrowed. “What is this odd cub’s name?”

“He goes by Chiang.”

Vibol nodded, stroking his beard to a point. He paced the courtyard a moment before stopping, looking to Muruku and stating, “Let this Tiger Chiang come. We will be ready to put him down.”

Once more, on the long walk back to where the tigers gathered, Muruku considered the fate of his son.

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PART 5

At first light the next morning, Chiang lead a small army of tigers including Muruku, T’salina and Macan.

“I refuse to stay behind at this hour,” defied Macan. Yet he allowed Chiang to lead the way.

As the tigers flowed through the jungle, they came upon two men. One was short and wiry while the other was tall and muscular. Both men wore the skins of tigers over their chest and about the waist.

“Identify yourselves,” Chiang demanded of them.

The short man laughed maniacally. He said, “I am Yowghan and this here is my comrade Boita. And together we will be your killers!”

The tigers growled, but it was Macan who stepped forth. “Stand down, all of you. I’ll take them.”

The tigers melded into the woods, remaining nearby to watch and be ready.

The two men circled Macan. The elder tiger stood sideways, showing his length to appear larger. His back arched. He growled furiously.

Yowghan produced from under his tiger skin a pair of short knives. Boita cracked his fists and rolled his head to stretch his neck.

Macan leaped at Yowghan, teeth bared and claws out. Boita ran at Macan, punching the old tiger in the side with both fists and knocking him to the ground.

Macan stood from the ground. Yowghan laughed hysterically. “You cannot defeat Yowghan and Boita! We are supreme tiger hunters. You will only die. Run, little cat, run into the jungle to hide. All we desire is the hide of your leader, the tiger called Chiang.”

Macan’s eyes grew wide. “How do you know about Chiang?”

Yowghan laughed once more. “We know everything! We can outwit you tigers many times over.”

Macan growled.

Chiang stepped from the jungle. He eyed Yowghan and Boita a moment.

Yowghan laughed. “Yes! We were told he would be a special tiger, a standing tiger. Look, friend Boita. It is the magical Tiger Chiang. This is the one we were meant to kill.”

Chiang looked to Macan. “Stand down, Grandfather Macan. I will fight these two.”

Macan did as Chiang said. He crept into the jungle, watching from shadows there.

Chiang bare his claws. Said he, “Come, hunters. Come impale yourselves upon my claws.”

Yowghan laughed with delight.

Boita ran at Chiang, who dodged to one side. Neither noticed Yowghan throw one of the knives. The blade sank into Chaing’s left shoulder. He roared with the pain, but moreso the anger at himself for not watching both his attackers.

Boita landed a two-fisted punch upon Chiang’s chest, knocking him back. Yowghan came to Chiang’s side and, with a leg sweep, toppled the giant tiger.

Once more Chiang roared with fury. He quickly removed the knife from his shoulder, dropped the knife to the ground and rolled up onto his feet.

Yowghan laughed. “We have you outnumbered and outsmarted, tiger. Give up now and your death shall be painless.”

Boita frowned.

Yowghan saw this frown upon his friend’s face. He said, “I lied, comrade. We will make his death painful no matter how he leaves this world!”

Both men laughed.

Chiang jumped, aiming for the taller and slower Boita. The tiger’s swiftness proved too much for the man. Both fell to the ground, Chiang’s hands slipping up under Boita’s arms, his claws sinking deep into the ribcage there. Boita cried out.

Yowghan jumped sideways, rolled, picking up the knife Chiang had left behind and stood. He threw the knife once more, but now Chaing expected it. When he heard the quick whip of the sharpened steel biting air, Chiang rolled to bring Boita atop of him. The knife sank into Boita’s back, causing him to cry out in pain.

Yowghan’s smile left his face as his enjoyment of the fight disappeared. He scowled, angry with the deceptive and skillful tiger. He screamed.

Chiang placed his hind paws upon the wide chest of the large Boita. His legs, the very legs that withstood the strength of a raging river, pressed out while his claws pulled in. Chiang severed Boita’s chest, mincing it into ugliness upon the frame. His hind legs launched Boita into the air, flying some ways before he hit the ground, unconscious and left to bleed out until dead.

Yowghan ran to and knelt by Boita’s bleeding body, horrified by the clawed chest. He fondled the remaining knife in his hand. He looked upon Chiang who now stood, waiting.

“Run now,” spoke Chiang, “and live a life free from hunting tigers. Or take to your feet and die beside your friend.”

Yowghan stood screaming, charging, brandishing the knife. In his fury, he did not see nor did he care that Chiang sidestepped the attack. Chiang’s claws gripped Yowghan below the neck, the tiger’s palm gracing the entirety of the small man’s chest. Chiang flexed, his claws digging deeper into the chest until they killed the man and Chiang’s furred hand ran red with blood.

Chiang let go of Yowghan’s body, letting it fall limply to the ground.

The many tigers appeared from the shadows, all in awe of their hero and ready to serve him to the end of their trials. Indeed, even Muruku so wished this.

Chiang looked to his people. He did not take the time to clean his claws or fur. He said to them, “We must press on, but we must expect more hunters waiting for us to pass by.”

The tigers agreed and followed.

As they padded through the jungle, they were unknowingly stalked by Lie Ren the Huntress. So skilled a hunter was she that, without notice to herself, she had witnessed the fight between Yowghan and Boita and the tigers. She was noticed only when she wished to be noticed, only when she sent an arrow through the jungle to slice into the tiger Muruku, its finely sharpened head entered behind the shoulder at an angle to dig deep into the chest were it pierced the heart and a lung. Muruku toppled instantly. He gave no yelp, he bolted not from the pain. He merely dropped where he had been walking.

His breathing was instantly shallow, labored. Chiang knelt to his side. The other tigers spread out to hide in the woods.

Chiang heard the huntress in the trees behind him. he turned and leaped, yet she was already gone.

“Show yourself coward!” demanded Chaing.

Lie Ren did show herself, with yet another arrow. Yet Chiang was ready for it, listening for it. He turned, cupped his hands before his chest and fell to the ground. The arrow dug into his forearm, its intended target his heart. As he fell, he looked along the path the arrow had come and there found Lie Ren.

Seeing him finding her, Lie Ren dropped to the jungle’s floor. She stood, her longbow made of yew in her right hand. She wore a poncho of hand-woven green leaves and leather pants. She was fair, even pretty.

When she spoke, her voice was soft yet commanding. “You’ll not get far,” she told Chiang. “Besides me, there are a half dozen other hunters waiting in ambush not far from here. But your people will have to go on without you for I will kill you now.”

She nocked an arrow from the quiver at her back and readied herself.

Muruku gasped. Chiang, ignoring the huntress, stood and walked to his father’s side.

“I'm a here, father,” said Chiang as he gently caressed the dying tiger’s forehead.

“Father?” Lie Ren whispered. She lowered her bow.

“When they tell my tale,” gasped Muruku, “let it be known I chose to defend my people to the end.”

Chiang nodded.

Muruku heaved once and died.

“He was your father?” asked Lie Ren.

Chiang carefully closed his father’s eyes, stood and nodded to Lie Ren.

She considered him before saying, “I was sent to kill you, but I chose to first kill Muruku for he had killed my father. I’ve dedicated my last few years to hunting your father. Now it would seem I’ve only done so to take another’s father from them. For this I am sorry.”

Unawares and in thought, Lie Ren did not notice Chiang flex his legs and leap until he was mid-air and closing on her. She tried to leap back, but the tiger’s clawed hand caught her against the side of her left shin. With such force did Chiang strike at her that, had his claws not touched her, the result would be the same. Her leg was torn in half below the knee, her shin and foot and femur shattering into fragments surrounding a larger chunk of meat that fell away from her.

Lie Ren fell backwards onto the ground. She leaned forward, looking upon her missing limb in horror.

Chiang bent low and grabbed the bow from her, throwing it aside. He knelt beside the fallen huntress, asking, “Who rules the hunters?”

“A merchant by the name Vibol Walid. He has many powerful clients that would like to see you dead, many would use your bones and teeth as aphrodisiacs and other hermetics.”

“If I should find you’ve lied to me,” spoke Chiang, “I return here and take the rest of your limbs so you can watch me gnaw on them.”

Chiang called to his people, “Come, tigers. Follow me. Let this one alone. She’ll no longer be a threat to us.”

As each tiger passed by the fallen Lie Ren, ignoring her or turning up his or her nose at her.

Before Chaing was out of reach of her voice, Lie Ren called to him. “Tiger Chiang!”

Chiang halted his progress to look back.

“The day will come when you will want vengeance,” she said to him. “I know this well. When that day arrives, find me and I will give you the satisfaction you seek.”

Without another word passing between them, Chiang and Lie Ren parted ways.

Lie Ren was not a liar. Soon the tigers were ambushed by six hunters waiting in the jungle for them. Everyone was required to take part in this battle. Tigers and men spilled blood alike. In the end, all six men were killed as were eight tigers and four mortally wounded so they could not go on. Chiang ordered them to remain behind and await their return.

After their long travel through the jungle made longer with the battles, the tigers came into the hunters’ encampment a little after noon in the day. There they were met by two dozen more hunters, most armed with spears or bows.

Chiang halted his people. He eyed the hunters and spoke to them. “I’ve come only for your ruler, I seek the one called Vibol Walid. Bring him to me and I will spare the rest of you.”

The hunters laughed in unison at this. They had long hunted tigers and though Chiang was different, they assumed he was not much different, that they could easily put him down.

“Where is Vibol Walid?” Chiang demanded with a roar. A few of the hunters now jumped and cowered a bit.

“He is not available upon your request, filthy tiger,” said one of the hunters.

Chiang’s claws reached out, his arm arcing so to streak through the afternoon sky. Claws dug into the temple and face of the hunter that had chosen to speak. The force of the blow was similar to the blow Chiang had delivered unto Lie Ren’s leg, and with similar effect. The hunter’s head was torn from its base and was sent hurtling unevenly through the air at the other hunters. The headless corpse collapsed to the ground beside Chiang.

The rest of the hunters now shook with fear, whispering superstitions and refusing to look Chiang in the eye.

“Give me Vibol Walid!” Chiang demanded.

At last a door on one of the makeshift houses slid sideways, opening onto a room made for lounging. In the door appeared two men carrying Vibol Walid upon a pillowed chair. They set him down just outside the door. He smoked a long, curved pipe filled with tobacco. He looked at Chiang carefully.

“Are you Vibol Walid?” asked Chiang.

Vibol nodded.

“I’ve come for your life.”

Vibol smiled at this. He said, “Then you are a damned fool. I am the hunter, not the hunted. Are you too stupid to know this? Tell me, Tiger Chiang, where is Muruku?”

Shocked the man knew his father’s name, Chiang said, “Some ways back, lying dead. How do you know him?”

Vibol smiled. “How do you think we knew of your coming? Of your name? Of how to so effectively hunt your people long before you were born?”

“Your lies are ineffective weapons! Come, Vibol Walid! Fight me!”

Vibol shook his head and said, “No. I have others for such a task.” Vibol’s eyes narrowed as he yelled, “Get him!”

The hunters were hesitant, but finally three stepped forward.

The tigers growled en masse. Chiang said to them, “Stand down, friends. But remain close, they may choose to run.”

The tigers spread out evenly around the encampment, placing themselves at vantage points to watch every move Chiang would make.

The three men lunged.

Chiang struck out, first left then right, then left again. The first hunter fell after hit with claws to the gut. The second ran into the corner of the encampment to fall unconscious after his left arm was ripped from his body. The third fell to the ground, claw marks across his face spewing blood and gore.

Chaing said, “Fight me, Vibol Walid!”

Vibol sighed. He took a deep drag from the pipe, held the smoke in his mouth a good long time before blowing it out, handed the pipe to one of the men nearby and stood. His eyes never left Chiang during all this, nor did they flit in any direction as he removed his shirt to show his cobra tattoo. He stretched his shoulders a moment, shaking his arms to loosen his muscles. He then approached Chiang.

“You will prove most valuable to my clientele, Tiger Chiang. And the more you fight, the more I’ll charge them for my troubles,” said Vibol. He smiled and added, “Let us make this a good fight, then.”

Chiang scowled, his throat grumbling with the desire to roar.

The two paced each other a few moments, sizing one another up. At last Chiang grew tired of this and struck out, but Vibol easily dodged the claws of the tiger.

Vibol smiled. “Your not as fast as a cobra,” he taunted.

Chiang frowned. He struck out again and again, unable to connect with an attack as Vibol dodged everything. Chiang’s claws bit the air once more and Vibol this time, though he was out of range for the attack, stepped into it a bit to block the tiger’s blow with his forearm. Vibol’s arm then slithered, snake-like, up the arm of the giant tiger, winding around it some to hold it there. Vibol was now under Chiang’s arm, his hand making a snake-like head and striking out with two fingers for fangs to pinch at the nerve in Chaing’s shoulder behind the clavicle.

Chiang yowled with the sharp, quick pain that immediately disappeared into numbness. He stumbled backwards, out of Vibol’s grip. The hunters cheered their leader. The tigers hissed their displeasure.

Chiang regained his composure though he still suffered some numbness in his right shoulder and arm. He made a fist and shook out the odd feeling there. He knew then his enemy was most likely better versed in fighting than he and that he had to outsmart, not outfight, Vibol with the few skills he had.

Chiang went on the defensive. Vibol struck out, his fang-like fingers puncturing the tiger’s skin here and there. The wounds were small and, alone, inconsequential. But when Chiang received three such blows in the left chest and arm, he realized their combined effects could cripple him as his left arm was now weaker than it had been before. He had to be swift with his ideas now.

Vibol struck again, this time to Chaing’s right. The tiger thought of his training. He thought of the hunting skills his father and T’salina and others had imparted to him. He thought of the salmon and the river Grandfather Macan had taken him to. He let go of his desire to kill Vibol Walid. He shifted his concern to catching him.

Vibol struck out with his left hand.

Chiang grabbed Vibol by the wrist. He did not handle the man with care, as he had with the salmon, instead digging his claws deep into Vibol’s wrists.

Vibol, somewhat shocked but not yet concerned, struck out with his right.

Chiang once more caught up the wrist as a salmon leaping from the waters. His claws dug into flesh once more. Vibol now became worried. He tried to shift his weight to free himself of Chiang’s grasp, but failed. Chiang tried to remember his training, all of it, and finally thought of the killing blow all tigers learned.

Chiang leaned forward, his neck outstretched and head turning sideways, his maw coming up beneath Vibol’s head. Chiang opened his mouth wide. He did not want to kill Vibol instantly, so he did not suffice to snap Vibol’s neck with his long teeth. He instead engulfed Vibol’s neck and part of his head with all his jaw and clamped down with his smaller teeth upon the throat, first closing then crushing the windpipe there, causing Vibol to suffocate.

Once dead, Chiang let go of Vibol, allowing his body to tumble awkwardly to the ground.

Chiang then turned to the remaining hunters and spoke these words, “Leave this jungle and never return to hunt another tiger, lest you be hunted yourselves.”

The remaining hunters fled in fear, leaving behind everything within the encampment. The tigers cheered as they burned the encampment to the ground.

Chiang remained with his people two years more. In those years, he watched as his people grew in numbers and the fear of hunters fled their hearts. He also grew restless, weary.

Macan knew this one night came to sit at Chiang’s side by the Moon Pond and asked his grandson, “What bothers you so, dear Chiang?”

Chiang sighed. He confessed, “I was brought into this world with a purpose, Grandfather Macan. It has now been two years since I’ve fulfilled that purpose and I find myself questioning my usefulness. I cannot help but feel… well, rather out of place with my own people. I am not quite like them nor do they any longer need me.”

Macan nodded, saying, “I understand.”

They watched the moon’s reflection in the pond a moment before Chiang then said, “Grandfather Macan, I feel I must leave this jungle to find a new path for myself.”

Once more Macan nodded, saying, “I understand.” The elder tiger wanted to ask Chiang what he thought he might do outside the jungle, where he might live, but he knew the young tiger would not have an answer to these questions. He felt, however, he should say something and so insisted, “Chiang, wherever you go, whatever you might do please never forget your people.”

Chiang shook his head. “I could never forget my tigers of the jungle.”

Macan nodded at this and said, “Make certain you don’t.”

The following day, Chiang’s leave-taking was announced and prepared for. A feast was held in his honor. Many tried to persuade him to stay, but found their efforts fruitless.

On the day Chiang left the jungle, all the tigers from all over the jungle walked with him a long ways, saying their goodbyes and getting their last words with him. Macan and T’salina were the last to walk at Chiang’s side. When they came to the edge of the jungle they stopped. Chiang looked at them. He lowered himself to kiss T’salina gently, lovingly. He said, “You’ve been like a mother to me. I’ll miss you most of all.”

Nearing tears, T’salina expressed her love for Chaing before running off.

Macan and Chiang watched her disappear into the jungle.

Chiang asked, “Do you think my father was a traitor, Grandfather Macan?”

Macan thought it over. “I cannot say,” he confessed, “but he did not die as one. He died in our midst on our great day of liberation. And that is how I will tell his story to the cubs.”

Chiang liked this and nodded his approval.

“Fare well, Great Chiang,” said Macan.

“Take good care of the jungle for me, Grandfather Macan,” answered Chiang.

A lone tiger stepped from the jungles that day and into the rest of the world.

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I hope that was worth the wait. ;)

Tune in next week for Act IV of "The Tiger and the Hare"!

Things to Come in 2010!

"Broken Sorrows" -- Act I

Herein we revisit the world of The Children of Gods. These are wuxia tales of fantasy and martial arts, of gods and mortals. It is the 3rd installment of stories to be written for this universe, is the 2nd novel in the universe and is the last tale to feature Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish of 100,000 Sorrows and Beauty as a major character.

"Broken Sorrows" picks up years after we last visited this world. Enough time has passed for characters to grow older and for some to grow up.

I do hope you'll enjoy.

~ Charles

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“BROKEN SORROWS”
© 2009 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

ACT I

IN THE LAND OF BIZO: Wherein Alecto and Adad Grow into Maturity; Jealousy and Suspicion Infects a Dark Heart; Familial Blood is Spilled

PART I

Far to the east, to the farthest stretches where stone kisses sea, in the Land of the Bizo did live none other than Sulia Laree, the Eternal Empress. Time had come and gone since the Towering Elephant Balori Shangoyo had last paid this region a visit. Summers had come and gone, winters had frozen and melted, generations of flowers had bloomed and died and now Alecto stood at the precipice of womanhood.

‘Twas mere weeks before the anniversary of her sixteenth year. Her maiden season had come to her. Her body had grown and was filling. She was swiftly becoming the most beautiful woman in Bizo and, some poised, perhaps the most beautiful woman in all the world. Indeed, one would be hard pressed to find another to argue against such a statement.

Her brother came to her side that night and together they sat watching the stars.

“It’s been many years since we first saw them,” said Adad.

“And each night I come to this window, look out and up at the stars and thank Balori for his good deed. It seems so impossible now,” she said, “an elephant placing fire in the night sky.”

“Yet he did,” smiled her brother.

“Yet he did,” she confirmed. With some trepidation she said, “If you look, there, in the southern night sky each Spring you can see him.”

“Where?”

“Find the line of three stars. Can you see? Now imagine them connected, making a solid line. It’s as though they shaped Balori’s trunk.”

“And the ears to either side!” exclaimed Adad.

“Yes! Yes, how happy I am you can imagine it, too. I’ve felt so foolish for so long for imagining it there. Especially now, especially on the eve of my full womanhood.”

Her brother shook his head. “It’s not foolish. He gave us such a gift, we should honor him and what better way than to find a home for him amongst the very stars he returned to the world.”

Adad looked from the stars to his sister and found her hanging her head low in thought.

“What is it, dear sister?” he asked.

Alecto sighed. “I’ll miss my childhood. I’ll miss our times together by the water.”

“We’ll still have time together,” Adad assured.

“I’m certain we will,” said Alecto, “but not as we used to. On the morrow I will become a woman in full and will have greater duties in this land and to our people. It is the way of our family.”

“Perhaps,” Adad lamented. He then assured, “But we’ll always make time to come here and remember our elephant hero.”

Alecto smiled. She said, “Perhaps.”

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PART II

The sky moved and the children aged. Preparations were made for a large celebration in honor of Alecto’s coming-of-age. Word was sent forth the celebration would be made a national affair. And so the people of Bizo gathered foods, costuming and incense to burn in honor of their little daughter.

Long had it been since the children had last seen Fei Li Mi, once their protector. Now presiding over their advancement towards maturity was Eloqua – a middle-aged woman, barren and unable to show her love for children except as a guardian – and Bratis, the Eternal Empress’ new Chief Guard. Eloqua’s and Bratis’ love for the children was great and matched only by the adoration of the people hoping one day to be rule by them, by the people of Bizo.

One night, as the children watched the stars from Alecto’s room, Eloqua and Bratis came to them.

“Our little girl will be made a woman on the morrow,” said Eloqua.

“Tomorrow, our little girl will be made the new Empress,” Bratis smiled with pride.

“Me? The new Empress?” Alecto asked. “But how? How could I take the seat of power from my mother? I had assumed, considering her immortal state and eternal beauty, I would never take from her the position of ruler of Bizo.”

“The righteous act,” proclaimed Bratis, “would be for your mother to step down from the position, relinquishing it to you.”

This startled Alecto. She had assumed she would take on minor roles within Bizo, perhaps traveling to foreign lands as an ambassador for her mother. Not once had she ever considered taking the reigns of all of Bizo from her mother.

“I hadn’t thought it was possible,” she said.

“Your mother is kind,” spoke Eloqua. “At least to you.”

The hint of lamentation in Eloqua’s voice did not escape Adad. Unsure of her tone, he chose to say nothing, to ask no questions.

That very evening, the Eternal Empress paced in her bedchambers. She called forth for Bratis and Eloqua and other servants to come to her side.

“On the morrow we will celebrate my daughter’s birth. Tomorrow marks her sixteenth year. And this flusters me greatly.”

Bratis stepped forward. He asked, “My Empress, why would such a grand and glorious day fluster you? A child’s birth is a thing to celebrate, especially for a mother and especially if that child is the young and beautiful Alecto.”

The Eternal Empress, in all her unnatural youth and fully natural beauty, glowered at Bratis.

“Young and beautiful?” she demanded. “Young and beautiful? You dare fawn over my daughter before me? How dare you! You vile pervert!”

“That is not what I meant, Empress,” Bratis quickly kow-towed to the Eternal Empress. “I meant no offense.”

Sulia Laree approached her personal guard. “Rise you. Rise and be the commander of my guard. Rise and display yourself a man, not a coward, not even before me.”

Bratis stood.

“You’ve been in my service a long time,” said the Empress. “I remember spying you amongst new recruits long ago. I also remember I called you to my bed that very night.”

Sweat began to roll down Bratis’ face. “Empress, no one knows this.”

“No one knew,” replied the Empress. “Until now. Today I stand on the threshold of losing my throne to my daughter. I would keep the throne, however. I’ll not abdicate any minute detail to anyone. Not even to my own blood.”

Bratis stood, shaking nervously. He looked about at the gathered servants who peered back at him and the Empress with wonder.

“Tell them now what you and I know. Tell them the truth,” commanded the Empress.

Uncertain of the repercussions, uncertain of the Empress’ true wishes, Bratis did as he was commanded.

“Alecto is my daughter and not the dead emperor’s, may he rest in peace. You called me to your bed and I was with you while your husband was elsewhere with his political duties. Soon after you were with child.”

The servants listened I horror of the Empress’ betrayal.

Sulia smiled. “And I was not with my husband nor with any other man thereafter.”

Bratis looked around at the gathered servants.

Sulia sat at her vanity, brushing her long, beautiful hair. “Alecto is not my dead husband’s daughter. She is not of pure stock. She is not full royalty. Therefore, I find her unfit to take the throne over the land of Bizo from me. We will celebrate her birth tomorrow, but she will not take hold of any power. Nor will she ever. This I command.”

The servants nodded with understanding, though shocked.

Eloqua stepped forward, “Then what place has she in this land?”

Sulia looked at her. “She has no place, except as my daughter. She will live here until her dying days and I will continue to rule long after.”

Eloqua, finding the Empress’ manner grotesque, worked her mouth but no words came forth.

“Chew your cud elsewhere, cow. Remove yourself from my sight.”

“But to live here for all her days without purpose,” Eloqua protested, “would mean only her imprisonment.”

The Empress nodded. “As it will mean for my son when he comes of age, too.”

“The people love her,” said Eloqua, hoping to reason with the Empress. “As long as she lives she will undermine your authority. The people will call for her ruling.”

The Empress paused her brushing, thinking over this matter. At last she said, “What you say holds truth within it. As long as Alecto lives, she will undermine my authority. Therefore, I must not allow her to continue her life.”

The Empress turned deftly towards Bratis. “Kill her. And do so tonight, before the hour of her birth. Remove her form from my palace so I may continue to reign for all eternity.”

Bratis gasped. He stammered as he spoke, “B-but I can’t! It is my sworn duty to protect her!”

The Empress stood and approached Bratis once more.

“It is your sworn duty to do as I command.”

Again Bratis stammered, “B-but to do so is to… you ask me to kill my own daughter!”

Sulia Laree smiled wickedly. “Do so. Provide me with the evidence I require concerning your loyalty. Express to me your love as you once did behind closed doors. Sacrifice your daughter to me.”

Bratis shook his head. “I simply cannot.”

The Empress frowned. “Then you will die at her side.”

She called for her guards and commended them attack and kill Bratis.

The servants scattered, running from the Empress’ bedchambers, seeking refuge.

Eloqua also escaped, running not for her own quarters, but for the bedchambers of Alecto.

Guards filled the Empress’ bedchambers.

Bratis looked to Aiden, his second in command. He spoke, “Hear me now and know what I speak is truth: Our Empress has gone mad!”

The guards looked to their Empress.

“It’s true,” spoke the Empress. “I’m mad with an illness and that illness is our former Chief Guard Bratis.”

“She wants Alecto killed!” he informed. “And I’ll not do it!”

The guards looked to their Empress for orders.

She leveled her eyes. She commanded, “Kill him.”

The guards approached Bratis.

Bratis, frustrated, pleaded, “At least allow me a weapon. At least allow me to leave this world fighting.”

Empress Sulia nodded.

A spear was lowered to the ground and kicked to Bratis.

The former Chief Guard picked up the weapon. He felt its weight in his hands. He eyed those formerly under his command. He positioned himself into an offensive stance.

“This is nonsense,” spoken Aiden. He walked to Bratis’ side. “I’ll not follow a mad woman.”

The Empress frowned. “Will there be more traitors?”

No more guards turned traitor.

“Remember what I’ve taught you,” he told the guards. “Remember what I’ve said: To fight is to live. Whether you fight for justice or for your life, whether you fight to release anger or as a way to discipline yourself, fighting is living. To sit idly is to be a demon of lethargy.”

The guards looked at him, uncertain.

Bratis eyed them. He commanded, “Now fight me!”

The guards rushed on.

Aiden unsheathed his sword.

Bratis raised his spear.

Three guards challenged Bratis. He knocked down the first with a sweep of the spear and stabbed another. The third lunged forward, sinking his short sword into Bratis’ gut.

Bratis grabbed the guard’s wrist and pulled the sword free from his form. He kneed the guard in the stomach, twisted his wrist until the sword came free. Bratis used the sword against the guard, plunging it into his chest.

Aiden fought valiantly, swimming through the ocean of weapons and guards until he found himself near the bedchamber’s entrance. When he had the chance, he slipped free from the room, guards chasing after him.

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

PART III

Eloqua burst into Alecto’s bedchamber. Alecto was alone, scared by her handmaiden’s sudden intrusion.

“Eloqua! What is it?”

Eloqua grabbed from under the bed a satchel. She opened a chest and pulled from it clothing and began shoving the clothing into the satchel.

“Eloqua? Eloqua, tell me what’s wrong!”

“It’s your mother,” Eloqua turned to look at her, tears welling in her eyes. “She sends guards for you this moment. We must leave.”

“What? For what purpose?” Alecto became frantic. “Why would my mother send guards for me?”

“She fears you. She fears the threat you represent to her rule. She won’t give up the throne.”

Alecto shook her head. “Then I’ll not take it. Why the guards?”

Eloqua paused in her packing. “They come to kill you.”

Alecto shook her head once more. She could not comprehend what Eloqua told her. She said, “No.”

Aiden ran into the room. Blood dripped from a wound at his head and another in his good arm. He held his sword loosely in his off-hand.

“Young miss,” Aiden panted. “We must flee.”

His eyes lolled about in their sockets until they righted themselves and he looked at Alecto once more.

Panic filled Alecto as tears spilled from her eyes. The visage of Aiden in his horrible bloodied form was evidence enough for her.

Eloqua grabbed Alecto by the arm and pulled at her. Alecto followed and Aiden followed them both as they ran towards Adad’s room. They came to the hall in time to bear witness to two guards striking down the young man.

“Adad!” Alecto cried out.

The guards, hearing the unbridled, bloodcurdling scream, turned to see Alecto and her escorts. Aiden stepped forward, his sword leveled.

The two guards rushed at him and with two terrible, swift blows Aiden struck them both down, blood pouring from the wounds at their necks as flesh peeled from muscle to show viscous gore.

“Keep running,” Aiden commanded. He steered them through and then out of the palace, bringing them to the Empress’ stables.

Kalavata flew high overhead and Zingtai followed below. The night sky glittered with brilliant stars, yet none of them saw this.

Aiden roused a stable hand. Together, they prepared Gullnir, the Empress’ prized horse and often touted the fastest horse in all of Bizo, for Eloqua and Alecto. Once mounted, Alecto in the saddle before Eloqua, Aiden looked at the two women and said, “Ride. Ride until you can ride no more. Ride until the horse is dead. Never come back. Ride and live well.”

Alecto cried.

Eloqua looked at Aiden. “What of you?”

Aiden shook a little, his wounds draining him of strength. He closed his eyes, then opened them and looked to Eloqua.

“When first I joined the guard, I took an oath to protect the Empress and her family. I swore to defend them with my life. Now the Empress is not in harm’s way, but her family is. And I intend to live by my oath.”

Tears welled and ran down Eloqua’s face. She said, “May the gods bless you.”

He nodded and escorted the horse out of the stables. He watched them go. And when the mass of guards descended upon him, he fought well once more. Alas, a far swifter blade then his fell him.

The guards found the stable missing a single horse, the Empress’ prize steed missing, killed the stable hand.

When the Eternal Empress heard of the theft of Gullnir, she commanded riders be readied and chase after her daughter.

“Ride,” she told her guards. “Ride and strike down that foul creature from my womb!”

Eloqua took the reigns and rode the horse hard out of the lands of Bizo. They rode through the night, the moonlit sky shimmering on heather-filled plains under the starry sky. Dew collected on their cheeks and on Gullnir's body. They rode until long after midnight, a silhouette of desperation on the far horizon.

At last, Alecto asked, “What do we do now?”

Eloqua replied, “I’ve been thinking of what to do. We must find help. We must find friends that will help us, friends that will keep us safe.”

“Balori!” Alecto said.

“His lands are too far off. We must find friends closer.”

“Oh,” Alecto lowered her head. “Then what shall we do? For whom do we search? Where should we find help?”

Eloqua shook her head. “Pray, dear one. Pray to the gods. Ask that they oversee us in our trials. Pray. Perhaps one of them will hear.”

Alecto lowered her head, her tears falling into the thick mane of Slepnir. She prayed.

And the gods of the world heard.

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PART IV

On the Mountain that Lived in the Sky, in the beautiful land of Taliesin, Xiao-tep was relaxing at the side of Aglina when he thought he heard a small, distant voice come to him. He excused himself and flew down the mountain, flying by the Spear of Sorrows planted firmly in the ground with ivy growing all about it. He flew until he came to the edge of the mountain so that he could look down onto the world below.

Otti the Firefly, having seen Xiao-tep fly by, came to his side.

“What is it?” asked little Otti.

Without looking at his friend, Xiao-tep said, “Someone is in need of help.”

“How do you know?”

Xiao-tep looked for an answer within himself. “I am uncertain. It is as though I have wisdom without the knowledge of its origins. And I fear this is the beginning of a course of events. I fear a great wickedness will soon come to the world, a wickedness old and familiar.”

Otti shuddered at Xiao-tep’s grave prophecy.

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I hope you enjoyed Act I of "Broken Sorrows". Check back next week for Act II.

The Four Chambers of Xiao-tep -- The Fourth Chamber

"To Break Sorrow"

I was born without a fourth chamber. I have no right ventricle. No matter how I try to escape it, this is who I am.

Make no mistake: no matter how much I may have been shipped from the factory as damaged goods, my heart fills with love all the same. Where there is nothingness exists love for what I do, for what I write, for Xiao-tep and Comet Fox and Stavros and Led and every character I right. They are, after all, most times inspired by some person I've known, some incident I've witnessed.

Xiao-tep will enter a chamber of nothingness soon. A chamber he must fill. And he intends to fill it with love for the world.

This will be Xiao-tep's last, greatest struggle. I can only hope I do justice by him.

Next week will see me posting Act I of "Broken Sorrows"... the beginning of the new The Children of Gods novel! :)

"Father can you hear me?
How have I let you down?
I curse the day that I was born
And all the sorrow in this world"
~ Bad Religion, "Sorrow"

Music to Write By... With Pictures!

About this time last year I posted a wuxia tale in 5 acts called "The Children of Gods". Since April of this year I have been expanding upon that world here on my blog with a series of stories. Along with these stories, I have been posting errata explaining influences and other various notes concerning the stories. It occurred to me recently that I should also post a list of the music I generally have been listening to while writing these heroic martial arts tales. Here is that list:

"The Children of Gods" and "At the Peony Tea House"
The soundtrack to Jet Li's Hero; composer: Tan Dun


"The Theft of Heaven"
Global Spirit by Karunesh, especially track 7: Earthsong;


Disney's Animal Kingdom - Music from the Park


"The Ruby Bug"
Theme to the HBO drama Rome;


Super Taranta (album) by Gogol Bordello, especially track 14: Super Taranta!


"The Elephant Crusade"
Live at Montreux by Ladysmith Black Mambazo



I'll be finishing up "The Elephant Crusade" this Friday. Sometime thereafter I will be posting Act 1 of "Song of Momoki". Be sure to watch for it!

"Comes Madly the Barking Dogs of Hell"

This week I present to you "Comes Madly the Barking Dogs of Hell", being notations of my original short story "The Ruby Bug" and the continuing saga "The Children of Gods".

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ACT I

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I know what's coming in these stories. While I do not want to give anything away as yet, I also do not wish to talk down to my audience and assume you know nothing. With a small bit of mental ferreting, I'm sure my dear readers can determine some small coalition of heroes will band together in the end to fight the evils presenting themselves within this universe. And, again without giving away too much, I support that supposition. With that in mind, I knew not one but a like band of villains would be needed. As such, I introduced Neboshazzar the Ruiner, one of Yaska Selith's minions.

Neboshazzar is modeled after a harpy, though imagined with dark, dark skin. He gets his name from two people in Christian history, which makes him the first reference to Judaism and Christianity in these stories. His name is a conglomeration of Nabonidus and Belshazzar (coincidentally Rembrandt's depiction of Belshazzar's Feast is a favorite painting of mine), Nabondius being the last king of of Babylonia during the Chaldean Dynasty and Belshazzar was his son and last king of Babylon.

I had wanted to tie this collection of stories into the original "The Children of Gods" further than the eventual outcome, meaning that I wanted to cross over the characters from different stories and have them effect each other in new ways. We saw that in the appearance of Xiao-tep in "The Theft of Heaven". To that end I re-introduced a new generation (and some of the old) of imps to the tales. While their branch of "The Ruby Bug" may not completely influence the outcome, they did at least for a time have possession of the ruby bug.

I continue to mention Kalavata, Etain and Zingtai because the starless night plays a major part in the eventual climax to all the tales. The fallen stars, after all, affect everyone that lives under them.

A Rusalka, in Slavic mythology, is a water nymph or spirit. Here I use it as the name of Neboshazzar's mother and made her a more abstract creature, referring to her as the essence of a lake of quicksilver.

I first learned of quicksilver from, I believe, reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn as a child. In that novel, again if memory serves well, quicksilver is referenced as having been put into loaves of fresh bread and then set afloat down the Mississippi River so that the spirit of the recently deceased would have food on their journey to the land of the dead. Quicksilver is another name for mercury.

Though Neboshazzar's imagery and physical form was inspired by harpies, his actions were inspired by Lamia, a Greek woman who turned into a demon that would prey on the weak, namely infants, children, pregnant women and new brides, thus Neboshazzar's first real act after birth is to kidnap, foul and eat a bride.

I also use Neboshazzar as a form of omen for greater evil to come in future stories.

I've been watching the TV series Rome as of late and from that I was inspired to create a political drama with the imps. The imps were originally largely inspired by Greek traditions and folklore. I thought I would take from that Greek starting-point and have them evolve into something more Roman with a political senate. In the end what I wound up creating was a fractured, argumentative conglomeration (much like the portrayal of the Roman senate in the show Rome... and much like the republic of the United States), one that is soon replaced by a bloody despot. Of course, I meant to imply the ruby bug had its own role in the bloodletting. Not that the ruby bug was violent itself, but that this story concerning the imps was a set-up for rather wicked violence, a kind of violence that I knew I would write about everywhere the ruby bug went.

BEHIND THE NAMES OF THE IMP COUNCIL

Apostolos the Wise = (Greek) "messenger" or "apostle"
Kyriakos the Elder = (Greek) means "of the lord"
Anargyros the Laborer = (Greek) Poor
Innocente the Fair = (English) My own derivation on "innocent"
Iason the Just = (Greek) A form of 'Jason', inspired by Jason and the Argonauts; means "to heal"
Lionidas the Brave = My own derivation of Leonidas; means "lion"

I felt, since the stereotype is that politicians are so fond of oration, a good many speeches were needed within the imps' story.

"The Theft of Heaven" had relatively little fighting in it, especially when compared to the original story "The Children of Gods". I wanted a good duel to start off the new stories and set the pace of violence, immediacy, and permanence that death of a character brings and reintroduce the emphasis on wuxia-style fighting. The duel between Iperitus and Prince Kleos is somewhat inspired by the duel between Yu Shu Lien (played by Michelle Yeoh) and Jen Yu (played by Ziyi Zhang) in the 2000 movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

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ACT II

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Doko's name, the merchant and friend to Garu the rat, was inspired by Daikoku, one of the Seven Gods of Fortune from Japanese tradition. Daikoku is the god of wealth.

Garu gets his name from two sources: 1.) the letters 'G' and 'A' in Ganesha's name, who is often depicted with rats and 2.) the sound of 'Garu' sounds similar to the French word 'loup-garou' which means "werewolf", an indicator of Garu's future transformation.

Zahir the Indomitable was somewhat inspired by the character Black Whirlwind from the classic Chinese wuxia novel "Water Margin" (aka "All Men Are Brothers" as translated by Pearl Buck; also known as "Outlaws of the Marsh"). Both characters are rather robust, overbearing, drunkards wanting things only their way and never really capable of cleaning themselves up to social standards. Black Whirlwind is also portrayed in the 2005 BioWare video game Jade Empire.

Zahir's name simply came to me, there was no particular inspiration behind it. However, according to BehindTheName.com, Zahir means 'helper', which adds a small layer to his transportation of the ruby bug from land to sea and back to land and into the hands of Ebi and eventually into the mouth of Pup.

Marcin is the Polish form of Martin, a name that references the god Mars.

The mercenary Macia Thrace's name is a combination of two warrior-dominant cultures from history: Macedonia and Thrace. I imagined him as a bigger man, perhaps carrying dual war hammers, but never made mention of it due to its lack of need.

The whole story of Zahir is largely inspired by Persian and Arabian tales, my largest exposure to which would be The 1,001 Arabian Nights.

The Baqir, the ship Zahir signs with, has an Arabic name meaning "to rip open", a reference to the violence within the story.

Captain Faraj's name means "remedy", referencing him as the one to deliver the ruby bug to Ebi and free his ship from the curse of illness and misfortune that has befallen his men.

Zahir's dying words were "Wherever that bug doth go, follows with it a trail of blood." This puts a very specific expression onto the ruby bug as a source of wickedness and foreshadows what's to come.

When I wrote of Zahir the Indomitable, I wanted him to live up to his name, yet in the end I knew he had to succumb to ruby bug to show the bug's power.

Sor was the last name of a Cambodian friend I once had when I was in grade school.

Xi-Wang's name is inspired by the Taoist goddess Xi Wang-mu, goddess of immortality that lives in the nine-stories Jade Palace in the Kun-Lun Mountains near the Lake of Jewels. Xi-Wang means "to hope", another reference of some things to come in future stories.

Xi-Wang was renamed Ebi, which was inspired by the Japanese god of fishermen Ebisu who is one of the Seven Gods of Fortune. Ebi is also the Japanese word for 'shrimp'.

Pup was inspired by two literary dogs, one being Argos, Odysseus' dog from The Odyssey and the other being Kojak from Stephen King's The Stand.

Lady Sor's death is taken from a one-time friend's experience. A family member was ill and dying and, just hours before my friend's plane landed so he could see his loved one a last time, they died.

The appearance of Black Tentacle (aka Zom Loa) ties "The Ruby Bug" back in with "The Theft of Heaven" and re-emphasizes him as a major character within the overall story. He is depicted here as having a similar origin as Ebi, but with quite different outcomes. Whereas Ebi became a simple fisherman, Zom Loa became an Immortal corrupted with want and on the run from King Aniabas. Zom Loa, feeling a connection with Ebi, struggles with his desires and his morals. This was added with the intent of showing different levels of drama within the story, keeping myself from relying on physical violence to create dramatic situations.

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ACT III

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I subtitled Act III "A Wicked Knot is Formed". A knot can be a collection of some kind, in this case the band of villains, outlaws and outcasts surrounding and lead by the demon Yaska Selith. But it's also a reference to the Gordian Knot, a knot in a length of rope with no seeming ends. Without ends, it was said the Gordian Knot could not be untied, but anyone who could would be a future leader. Roman general Alexander the Great took his blade to the rope and cut it, untying the knot in that fashion.

The shadowy warriors that enter the ziggurat are modeled after ninjas. The ancient god they resurrect is modeled after Anubis, the Egytian god of mummification, death and afterlife.

I have an admission to make: the Brothers Jackal pull inspiration from characters from two cartoons popular during my childhood. The first being Jackalman from my beloved Thundercats, the other being the the brothers Zartan and Zandar from G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero.

Tavaras is the name of one of the Brothers Jackal and he gets his name from Tavara, nocturnal demons from Trebizond folklore. Trebizond is named for the culture and historic region from which the Tavara lore comes.

I wanted to give Trebizond and Tavaras the ability to make more of their own canid-kind simply to explain the continued swell of Yaska Selith's ranks. This ability is directly copied from werewolf lore.

'Yaska' in Yaska Selith's name is derived from yaksha, semi-divine nature spirits the protect the treasures of the earth, from Hindu, Jain and Buddhist beliefs. 'Selith' was inspired by the Shisa, the guardian dog spirits often depicted as statues in front of buildings.

I must admit that my love of kaiju came into play when creating Yaska Selith. One of his many inspirations was King Caesar, a giant dog-like kaiju first introduced to the world in 1974's Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla.

Yaska Selith is referred to as a barghest which is traditionally a hellhound-like creature that haunts the countryside in Yorkshire in northern England.

The true potency of the ruby bug was needing portrayal, so I decided to add it as a growing third eye in Yaska Selith's forehead that can produce a red beam that destroys or set on fire everything in its path. This is a reference to Shiva.

I wanted to show Garu coming into a village where he was not welcomed because, though this world is populated by mortals and immortals alike, I wanted to portray some people as fearing immortals and anthropomorphic creatures. It brings a bit of drama to the world and some small complexity, but mostly it simply makes sense that not everyone mortal would associate with immortals just as not every god would break bread with a mortal.

The Grand Bazaar of Tenhar gets its name from two sources: 1.) The Grand Bazaar of Istanbul and 2.) Tehran's Grand Bazaar.

Sinvergüenza's name means 'scoundrel' in Spanish.

Mihai's name is Romanian for Michael which, in Hebrew, means "Who is like God?".

Ioana's name is Romanian for John which, in Hebrew, means "Yahweh is gracious".

Ioana calls Garu a domovoi, a Slavic household guardian spirit traditionally a man-like creature, but often covered with fur and a beard and occasionally with horns or a tail.

Garu's new name, as given to him by Ioana, is Brat Stavrosslavakovich. Brat means "brother". Stavros is Greek for "cross", referencing the 'x' marking on his ear and the semi-Christian unspoken background of the Ruska Roma. Slava is Russian and Slovene for "glory". Kovich I added on as an homage of sorts to Shostakovich, the Russian composer. When Garu/Stavros first spawned in my head I kept thinking of the name Shostakovich for him.

The character Garu/Stavros was first spawned (as a drunken warrior rat) more than a year ago as I completed the original story "The Children of Gods". I wanted him as a possible new character to help expand the universe. He has definitely become a pet/favored character for me.

The Ruska Roma take their name from the gypsies that eventually settled in modern Russia and keep their culture alive to this day.

I really wanted to fill out Stavros' personality through his connection with the Ruska Roma. I made his learn their dances, enjoy their drinks and sing their songs.

Livia's name is the Slovak variant on Olivia, which was created by Shakespeare for a character in his play "Twelfth Night" possibly as a feminine variation of Oliver.

Stavros is minimally inspired by the Skaven from Games Workshops' Warhammer Fantasy universe.

I added the attack of the Baba Yaga to show Stavros was capable of and willing to fight for his new friends.

The Bone Warriors' act of stitching bones to their clothing as mock armor is somewhat inspired by Tony Jaa's 2006 movie The Protector, in which he ties elephant bones to his forearms as weapons.

The epilogue of "The Ruby Bug" is simple stage-setting for the stories to come.

The Plain of Adoration takes its name from Mag Slécht, a plain in Ireland also called The Plain of Adoration and Prostration where sacrifices were once made to the god Crom Cruaich.

Owl Bridge is a reference to the Plains Peoples' Owl Woman, keeper of the bridge that deceased persons must cross over into the afterlife.

Vitor's name is a Galician form of Victor, which means "victor".

King Aniabas speaks the last lines of "The Ruby Bug": “It cannot be done,” he answered, “lest we join with some other force.” This foreshadows the coming of the aforementioned banding together of heroes to fight the villainous Yaska Selith and his knot that have settled the Plain of Adoration.

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Come back next week to read the very next story in the ongoing saga!

AFTERWORD: "Drawing Down the Sun, Uplifting the Stars"

Here is this week's offering of a short story or essay. This essay is number 13 of 13 weekly essay or short story posts.


"Drawing Down the Sun, Uplifting the Stars"
by Charles Shaver. Copyright 2007 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.


AFTERWORD: Wherein Charles discusses the major themes, purposes, influences and references within the fairy tale "The Children of Gods".



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Part 1


BILL MOYERS (BM): What happens when a society no longer embraces a powerful mythology?

JOSEPH CAMPBELL (JC): What we've got on our hands. If you want to find out what it means to have a society without any rituals, read the New York Times.

BM: And you'd find?

JC: The news of the day, including destructive and violent acts by young people who don't know how to behave in a civilized society.(1)


When first I heard these words they were revolution to me. In the infamous interviews conducted by Bill Moyers with the late Joeseph Campbell the condition of modern society and importance of unifying ethos became apparent. As Campbell spoke those words "What we've got on our hands" I knew them to be true for I was living proof.

I am an American and like many Americans I was taught I come from a place besides the United States. I am an American and like many Americans I was taught the United States is my homeland. I was taught that I and my ancestors are German, yet if I venture to Germany I find myself a foreigner. I was taught that I and my ancestors are Hawaiian, and thus Native American/American Indian/First Peoples, yet if I travel to Hawai'i I find I feel as an outsider. It took a great deal of time, observance and humbling quietude to feel at home on Maui where my ancestry dates back some 500 years. When finally I did feel at home, I was torn away from the island viciously by economy.

What I see in myself is what Joseph Campbell so simply and precisely described within these few lines quoted above. What I see in myself I see in my friends and family who grew up or old around me and with me. What I see in myself I see on the front page of the New York Times. What I see in myself is an odd mixture of backgrounds; a conglomeration of histories; a mutt gone astray in the neighborhood of his owning family and, while still near his home, unable to find his way back to his master.

What's more, as early as 1994 I began to see this in other parts of the world as global industrialization was expanding at a mad pace. On January 1 of that year, indigenous farmers took up arms in Chiapas, Mexico in a struggle against the industrialization of their land-owner heritage. They called themselves Zapatistas.

I see within continued global industrialization the threat it poses against regional cultures and people. This is not necessarily a negative criticism against industrialization, at least not for my purposes. It is an observation made about the difficult process of industrialization, difficult most of all for the people that live within the region that is being industrialized. Their lives and the rules of their society are being completely changed, sometimes over night. I can only imagine that such a process would leave a person feeling quite new and different from what they once were, an alien within one's homeland.

Yet regions currently going through industrialization are not the only ones to produce such feelings of alienation. For example, look what I wrote above about being Hawaiian: "I was taught that I and my ancestors are Hawaiian, and thus Native American/American Indian/First Peoples..." In many cases such as this we don't even know how to refer to ourselves. This is not unique to me. Having spent time at powwows and other indigenous gatherings it can be a difficult task for even the veterans of such events to speak articulately about who they are.

It was with these observances and this line of thought I set forth to writing tales of new gods, the children of old gods, to create a new mythos and perhaps reintroduce old ethos to a society fractured and broken in this area of understanding. Thus was born Xiao-tep, the fish-god both Egyptian and Chinese yet truly neither for he is not pedigree. He is uniquely American in this, or American-like, or post-industrialized-like.

Within this essay I will discuss the origins and purposes of Xiao-tep. I will break this essay into three major parts: a discussion of origins and analysis of themes within the fairy tale "The Children of Gods"; a listing of names and their root meanings, as well as other notes pertaining to original characters; and a point-by-point breakdown of the tale with underlying notes, references and trivia.


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Part 2

JC: People say that what we're all seeking is a meaning for life. I don't think that's what we're really seeking. I think that what we're seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive. That's what it's all finally about, and that's what these clues help us to find within ourselves.

BM: Myths are clues?

JC: Myths are clues to the spiritual potentialities of the human life.


In 2000 I began working under the flag of the ideas of shifting global economies, a shrinking global village and regional cultures being threatened. Since then I have been working on what J. Ho dubbed my 'pirate epic'. It's a collection of fantasy tales that indeed have pirates and is ultimately closing in on the epic scale, but it's so much more. I wanted to use the words of Joseph Campbell as my battlecry and pick up the banner of the now fallen Tolkein and carry his quest further, but where Tolkein was attempting to create new tales for the future generations of the United Kingdom to latch onto, I want to do the same for the whole world. Therein lies the purpose of the 'pirate epic'.

Anthropomorphic characters play a major part in the 'pirate epic' and at one time I thought about introducing a talking koi fish to act as advisor to the main character. I felt the koi had little use in the 'pirate epic' and didn't quite fit the make-up of the rest of the cast of characters. I loved the idea of the talking koi, however, and stored him in the back of my mind for future uses.

Once more I was speaking with my good friend J. Ho. He is an illustrator by trade and has a blog wherein he posts different pieces of his art on a regular basis. He once asked if I would suggest something for him to draw and thinking of my little koi I said "mystical fish". From that was born 'ankh-fish'. I loved the idea of a fish with an ankh embedded into his forehead and asked J. Ho if I could write up the background to the little guy. He agreed.

I mixed J. Ho's ideas with my own and wound up with five Acts, 134 pages and some 30,000+ words of the fairy tale "The Children of Gods". I made the fish once more a koi and kept the ankh on his forehead. Seeing this fish in my mind, I knew I had the makings of a modern mythology that could express the odd feelings of displacement and, at the risk of sounding cliche, disenfranchisement so prevalent in the United States and areas of the globe being industrialized. I was intentionally creating a mythology for today. I was also cutting my teeth for further work on the 'pirate epic'.

I named the fish Xiao-tep.

As much as I am a fan of Robert E. Howard, I didn't want Xiao-tep to be a typical nor stereotypical brute slaughtering the evils of the modern age blindly. I wanted him to feel every death, to take in every breath, to be as much a thinker as a warrior. I didn't want him necessarily enlightened, but struggling to achieve whatever he deemed was right and just in the universe. I wanted him to be lost, unwanted, depressed even. I wanted him to feel every last emotion every single one of us, his readers, experience on any given day through the course of our own lives so that in future times we can look back and say, "What did Xiao-tep do here?" and then read or re-read part or all of his tales and appreciate them.

I wanted readers to look at Xiao-tep and, though he may be a god and a koi that can speak and fly, feel the very human struggles he was having.

I also used mythology and religion from all over the world so that no matter where a reader may be from the chances are they could find a character or something within the tale they could associate with on a cultural level. I'll discuss the specific origins of characters and such in Parts 3 and 4.


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Part 3

Here I will discuss the original character's names, the meanings thereof and give other assorted facts about characters. I will discuss only the original characters and not the gods or goddesses of the mythologies I pull influence from.


Xiao-tep: 'Xiao-tep' is a contraction of 'xiao', Chinese for 'little' (amongst other meanings), and Imhotep, an ancient Egyptian priest of Ra and the architect for the first pyramid (Step Pyramid at Sakkara aka Pyramid of Djoser). This, of course, means that his name could be roughly translated as 'Little Imhotep'. Xiao-tep is a koi fish, a symbol most commonly associated with Japanese culture. His mother is Lei-zi, the Chinese Goddess of Thunder, and his father is Hapi, the personification of the Nile River. In this, Xiao-tep represents three cultures: Egyptian, Chinese and Japanese. I wanted his name to reflect something amiable ('little') and intelligent (hence the reference to Imhotep).

Wu Chan Chu: I once more have to give thanks to J. Ho for he helped me translate 'battle toad' into Chinese. 'Battle toad' is a reference to the late-80's early-90's video game heroes Battletoads, a semi-generic rival for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Wu Chan Chu roughly translates as 'warrior toad' and, as it is discussed within "The Children of Gods", is a misnomer since Wu Chan Chu is actually a frog. She is the daughter of Hapi, the god of the Nile River, and one of the many mortal frog attendants within his harem. She is largely Egyptian in origin, but her later name suggests a Chinese influence. Wu Chan Chu was originally named 'Kat Depet' by the slaver Kem Seqdew. 'Kat Depet' translates roughly from ancient Egyptian to English as "Ship Work" (please note within the original tale I wrote 'Kat Depet' translated as "Work Servant", I was wrong there and the story will be changed to reflect the correction in later versions). Wu Chan Chu is a demi-goddess, meaning that she is part mortal and part goddess.

Comet Fox: Comet Fox is the child of Coyote, the Trickster God of the Plains People of North America, and the Zorya, three sister Goddesses of Light from Slavic origin. Comet Fox is a god and is named thusly because he was born as a fox but can fly and when he does trails behind him a streak of white light like a comet's tail.

Ketsueki Sato: The Great Horned Demon of the Cottonwood Chamber. I wanted this demon to be truly vile and, taking a note from Been Eter (discussed below) I thought of calling the demon something along the lines of "Blood Drinker". I came up with 'Ketsueki Sato' instead. 'Ketsueki' comes from 'ketsueki-gata', roughly translating from Japanese as 'Blood Type'. It is often associated with a theory that one's personality may be predetermined by type of blood. 'Sato' has many translations, including as a Japanese surname or family name. It is also a Puerto Rican parlance for 'mutt'.

Kanaka Nui: The mortal fisherman that catches the large carp for Lei-zi to send in place of Xiao-tep for Hapi's meal. 'Kanaka Nui' roughly translates from Hawaiian as 'Big Person'.

Aileas: The Bean Nighe captured by the Dwarf brothers Brok and Sindri and bound to the Spear of Sorrows, the weapon that becomes Xiao-tep's trademark. She acts as a catalyst for Xiao-tep to receive the pains of the deaths of those he kills so that no death is simple nor without consequence to him. 'Aileas' is the Scottish form of 'Alice'. Bean Nighe are closely related to Bean Sidhe (most commonly written and pronounced 'Banshee').

Been Eter: Pronounced 'behn et-ur', he is the troll that becomes the first creature killed by Xiao-tep. 'Been Eter' roughly translates from old Dutch as 'Bone Eater'. I would be remiss to not include a mention of Tolkein's trolls from The Hobbit. Within that book I gained my first real exposure to trolls as characters and I'm sure my ideas of a troll are close to those depicted by Tolkein.

Awiti: The priest that prays to Hapi to discover the cause of the recent quakes. 'Awiti' is generalized as African in origin and means something to the effect of 'a child thrown away'. I used this to re-iterate the theme of this tale.

Kem Seqdew: A slaver that purchased Wu Chan Chu from her father with the intent of selling her. However, he could never bring himself to selling her and kept her instead under his watchful eye. 'Kem Seqdew' translates roughly from ancient Egyptian to English as 'Black Sailor'. That doesn't necessarily reflect his skin tone but his trade. Kem Seqdew's ship is called Mew Khet, which roughly translates from ancient Egyptian to "Water Thing".

Yannick: The Briton that Wu Chan Chu (as Kat Depet) spoke with aboard the ship Mew Khet. 'Yannick' is Breton and French for 'John'.

King Kleos: The Imp King and lap-dog of the demon Ketsueki Sato. Kleos is the ancient Greek concept of honor and renown, something that is hereditary and is meant to be a goal. For ancient warriors in Greece, it was an abstract concept that brought respect and was fought for. It is similar in may ways to the concepts of honor found within the samurai class of feudal Japan. Kleos was often a major theme for Homer, the epic poet of ancient Greece.

Hermit Snow: I borrowed the imagery of Hermit Snow from the classic kung-fu movie The Bride with White Hair, but also the general and stereotypical idea of what an old master hermit should look like. He is the essence of the element of snow and, as such, cannot be destroyed but instead turns back into snow from his human-looking form when Wu Chan Chu finally defeats him.

Master Liu: I named Master Liu for the venerable Gordon Liu, also known by many as Master Killer. He is most recently known for his portrayal as Johnny Mo, the leader of the Crazy 88, from the movie Kill Bill Vol. 1 and as Pai Mei, Uma Thurman's master, in Kill Bill Vol. 2.

Moon Maiden: The goddess that Master Liu convinces to make weapons for Comet Fox. I had originally wanted to make this the Inuit moon god Alignak to support the background of Comet Fox's weapons as being Inuit in origin, (he fights with dual ulus) but I liked the idea of a Moon Maiden better and the name seemed to fit. I simply created this goddess for my purposes.

King Spyridon: King Kleos' father, killed when bitten in half by a wolf. 'Spyridon' is Greek and Russian taken from the Latin 'spiritus' meaning 'spirit'. I wanted the imps not only to have Greek-like names (since imps are often credited to Greek mythology, though it is often assumed the concept of imps existed prior to the Greeks) but names reflecting their closeness to nature as well.

Demetrios: The imp soldier that finds the fishing village of mortals. 'Demetrios' is the original form of Demetrius which comes from the goddess Demeter, the 'Earth Mother'.

Georgios: The mortal fisherman met by Demetrios the imp. 'Georgios' is the Greek form of 'George' which translates as 'Earth Worker'.

Ipiretis: The Seneschal to King Kleos. His name translates roughly as, if I remember correctly (I cannot find my own source now... my apologies), 'one who sees' or 'overseer'. It may also be translated as 'aide'.

Sam and Tom: The two boys within the Epilogue of the fairy tale. Sam gets his name from Samuel Clemens, aka Mark Twain. Tom is named for Tom Spaulding, Doug's younger brother in Ray Bradbury's novel Dandelion Wine.

I should note that I gave no background for the villains in this tale. I think such things are often done in complete error as they are often not handled correctly. For instance, the three prequels to the original Star Wars movies above all else takes the character of Darth Vader, an otherwise icon of evil within our everyday language and society, and humanizes him. A background presented incorrectly takes the sting out of a villain's villainy. I refuse to do that with these tales. That does not mean that knowing the background to a villain will instantly make him or her likable. The creation of a villain can actually add to his villainy, but in many cases storytellers wind up doing the opposite by portraying their villains as victims and victims are almost always sympathetic characters. Sympathy and villainy can mix, but rarely do they not take away from one another. The only care an audience should ever have towards a villain is the care to see them stopped.

The villains in "The Children of Gods" are simple. They kept the heroes from doing the tasks they wanted or needed, most specifically the villains kept Xiao-tep, Wu Chan Chu and Comet Fox from escaping the Cottonwood Chamber.


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Part 4

Herein I will go page by page through the story and point out bits of trivia and relate notes concerning what went into creating the fairy tale "The Children of Gods".


ACT I - PART 1

First, a note about style. I move back and forth between a narrative voice that appears omnipotent ("Few know of the Celestial Garden...") and a more contemporary voice similar to that found in novels and short stories of our time. The omnipotent voice brings attention to the storyteller and is popular amongst those that tell tales at powwows or other live forums. It can be more engaging as it brings some focus onto the teller of the tale. It is similar, also, to the written tales of Homer whose epic poetry we know so well, at least by reputation. It is also a voice similar to that of the narration in All Men Are Brothers, a classic epic from China about 108 warriors battling tyranny. Besides Pearl Buck's translated version, All Men Are Brothers has also been translated under the title Outlaws of the Marsh. If you like wuxia (high fantasy martial arts) you'll definitely be wanting to read about the Mountain Bandits found within All Men Are Brothers or Outlaws of the Marsh. Also be aware that Gandhi wrote a book called All Men Are Brothers. Make sure to get the correct book.


ACT I - PART 3


The concept of the willow branch acting as a carrier of tears is relatively common in many regions of the world.


ACT II - PART 1

Of course, I used legends from Norse mythology and even some influence from R. E. Howard's tale "The Frost Giant's Daughter" to imagine the 'hoary hinterland' that Xiao-tep comes into at the top of Act II after having fled from his father in the Celestial Garden.

It was important for me to show what happens to Xiao-tep without his willow branch. Here in Act II, Part 1 i separated him from the branch. Eventually, Loki, disguised as Brok and feeding Xiao-tep lies, practically cripples Xiao-tep with sorrow. I needed to show the enormity of the sorrows Xiao-tep has the capacity to feel. As long as Xiao-tep has his branch, he still feels the sorrows but not to the extent of being unable to do more than double over and sob. I also used the moment to build up the villainy of Loki.


ACT II - PART 2


I needed to deal with some logistics of a fish handling a spear as a weapon, so I added Loki presenting the elixir from the Morrigan Hags that allowed Xiao-tep, once he drank it, to grow to any size up to his full size and morph his fins into arms. In my mind's eye, Xiao-tep's full natural height is about fifteen or so feet and I knew, too, he would one day travel to the mortal realm and would need to be able to grow smaller so as not to appear so monstrous to mortals.

My main purpose of introducing the troll Been Eter was to incorporate the element of fighting. These tales, above all else, were from the very beginning meant to be adventures filled with both emotional drama and combat. I looked at Act II as I was writing it and realized there was no real element of fighting to it, plus I needed to show Xiao-tep performing with his newly acquired Spear of Sorrows.


ACT II - PART 3


Coyote stars in some of my favorite tales. Long ago, I want to say 1987, I came across the book American Indian Myths and Legends. It's a great resource for anyone interested in such subject matter as the title would suggest. At the start of Act II, Part 3 I talk about Coyote being full of summer strawberries. It's a small reference to a tale within the aforementioned book. Coyote sees several beautiful women picking strawberries and he desires them, so he goes to the end of the long row of strawberries and buries himself completely except for the tip of his penis which sticks out, looking somewhat like a strawberry that's on the ground. The women come to the end of the row of strawberries and see this one lying on the ground. Try as they might they cannot pick it from the ground. They pull at it and pull at it until it excretes a small bit of milk-like substance. They move on and Coyote digs himself out of the ground. ;)


I named Comet Fox prior to researching his mother, so I had to find a goddess (or in this case three goddesses) that represented traveling light. The Zorya fit the bill.

There are many layers to Hell ruled by the Yama Kings, but I really liked the name Chamber of Dismemberment by Sawing. The other layers are: Chamber of Wind and Thunder, Chamber of Grinding, Chamber of Flames, Chamber of Ice, Chamber of Oil Cauldrons, Chamber of Dismemberment by Chariot, Chamber of Mountain of Knives, Chamber of Tongue Ripping, Chamber of Pounding, Chamber of Torso-severing, Chamber of Scales, Chamber of Eye-gouging, Chamber of Heart-digging, Chamber of Disembowelment, Chamber of Blood, Chamber of Maggots, and Chamber of Avici. (2)


ACT III - PART 1


I wanted my faun unlike those protrayed within recent movies(Mr. Tumnus in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe and the faun in Pan's Labyrinth) so I did some research on fauns and discovered Lupercus the epithet of Faunus, the god of wilderness and fertility. I wanted him friendly and wise.


ACT III - PART 2


The kappa is another favorite legend of mine. I first learned of it in Obake: Ghost Stories of Hawaii by Glen Grant. It's a book I purchased in the first month or two after moving to Maui. I then came across the legend again while reading the graphic novels Usagi Yojimbo by Stan Sakai. In one Usagi tale he battles the kappa demon.


ACT III - PART 3


I currently live in an area of Michigan that becomes practically infested with cottonwood puffs every spring. It can be quite pretty, but also signals allergy season for me. In a discussion I remember with J. Ho long ago, I told him it makes the area look like I'm caught up in a wuxia tale. It was only natural I add cottonwoods to this tale and eventually call Ketsueki's realm The Cottonwood Chamber.

It was important that I did not have Xiao-tep out-and-out tricked to go into the Cottonwood Chamber. Having him actively seek it out and the aide of Ketsueki shows his desperation and hate towards his father.

Imps are often associated, some would argue incorrectly, with Wiccans. Some claim them tiny demons acting as familiars for witches. The truth is that imps have a history separate (largely) from that religion. But I drew upon this misnomer and portrayed the imps as having the once-perceived familiar-like quality of suckling blood from the third nipple of another's body. I understand fully I was playing on false beliefs developed by ignorance, but the legend has come into mainstream consciousness and felt it fit my needs. I took great care not to associate Ketsueki, Kleos or anything having to do with them with Wicca. My respect and love goes out to Wiccans everywhere.


ACT IV - PART 1


I needed to incorporate more fighting into the tale, hence my choice to incorporate flashbacks showing Wu Chan Chu's and Comet Fox's training and attainment of weapons as well as their fights with Xiao-tep.

The nose flute is a common musical instrument within Polynesian culture.

The idea of Wu Chan Chu watching the hawk comes from a quote in the Hagakure and recited by Forest Whitaker on the soundtrack to the movie Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai. The quote goes: "According to what one of the elders say, 'Taking an enemy on the battlefield is like a hawk taking a bird. Even though it enters into the midst of a thousand of them it pays no attention to any bird other than the one it has first marked.'"


ACT IV - PART 2


I wanted the entirety of the Cottonwood Chamber to appear alive and organic, hence my incorporation of spriggans. I got inspiration for them in the Palladium Fantasy Role-Playing Game. With gratitude to Kevin Siembieda.


ACT IV - PART 3


There is a brief reference to the tales of All Men Are Brothers here. In those classic Chinese tales, the character Black Whirlwind must take up residence with a school of monks. Black Whirlwind is the polar opposite of what a monk should be: he eats meat, does no chores, loves luxury and wealth and violence. As such, he does not hold sacred that which the monks hold sacred. One night, after sneaking away to a nearby village to eat and carouse, Black Whirlwind returned drunk and needing to pee. He winds up peeing behind the statue of the Buddha in the temple. Of course, the monks are outraged and a small moment of hilarity ensues. Here Comet Fox, drunk and needing to pee, urinates upon one of the hand-carved stone dragons of Master Liu.

While not necessarily the comic relief of the story, I did want Comet Fox to have a sense of humor about him and wanted humor to enter into the situations he found himself in. For instance, Master Liu reminiscing about watermelons while Comet Fox rages about plums. One of the things I find endearing about the Coyote tales that inspired Comet Fox was Ciyote's sometimes simple nature. Coyote wants what he wants and he'll do as he needs to get what he wants. I wanted Comet Fox to be much the same.


ACT IV - PART 4


Strategy and forethought is quite important in combat as is in life. The observation of nature is also important, most especially in kung fu. I wanted to portray that with this flashback-within-a-flashback from Master Liu's younger times. Most martial arts are also based upon basic principles and I wanted Master Liu to express those principles in his own way and portray them as he had learned them in life.


ACT IV - PART 5

From almost the first I wanted Comet Fox to brandish ulus as his weapons of choice. The problem I found was inspiration for how they were made. These heroes are in many ways quite plain and simple, but I wanted them also to have certain uniquenesses to them. Their weapons is one area I chose to make extravagant. Xiao-tep's Spear of Sorrows was made by dwarfs and has within it a bound Bean Nighe; Wu Chan Chu's brass knuckles were made by a master craftsman especially for her; Comet Fox's ulus needed, I felt, a mystical origin and since ulus look so much like half-moons I thought it only appropriate they come from the moon.


ACT IV - PART 6


I love Drunken Style. It looks so comical yet can be quick and effective and even graceful.


ACT V - PART 1


When it came time to write the final Act of this tale, I realized I needed to add a background story to the imps since they were to have a part in the usurping of Ketsueki Sato. I didn't want them to be the calvary riding in to save the day and all that schtick. They needed a reason, a purpose, and a stake in the outcome. Sadly, I went forward with this background in the final Act. I say 'sadly' because I felt that by the final Act the stage should have been completely set so that we could concentrate on the final battle. This did not happen. When I edit this for future readings, the background story of the imps will go in Act 3 just before the imp (you later discover him to be King Kleos) visits Xiao-tep and tells him to escape the Cottonwood Chamber.

I drew heavily upon ancient Greek culture for inspiration for the imps. It would seem that, while imps may have existed within the minds of humanity prior to Greece's heyday, the ancient Greeks were the first to truly adopt them into their culture in some way.

The separate bog-kingdoms I loosely based upon the Greek idea of city-states, with King Kleos' bog-kingdom being somewhat like Sparta in that they are the most war-like and most successful at war.

The wolf is a common character within ancient Greek tales.


ACT V - PART 2


I wanted to incorporate some level of political power within the imp's part of the tale, which is lacking elsewhere.


ACT V - PART 6


I also wanted the power struggle to last a bit to add a parallel level of the rising tension of the fight in the courtyard. I didn't want the finale to be one-dimensional where everyone was just fighting and things become more bleak by the minute as the enemy increases his troops and pressure. I wanted to express that rising tension through a feeling of emergency and emotion. Herein we find King Kleos not wanting to see his people slaughtered, yet wanting to fight for their freedom. I pulled inspiration for this from Homer's The Iliad
. In The Iliad the hero Achilles must make the decision to join an on-going war. He does not desire to do so, thus Homer creates an emotional trial for Achilles as his friends and countrymen die while he sits at home safely. I am not the world's biggest fan of The Iliad because it takes so very long for Achilles to join the war and, quite frankly, the ending is not without flaws. But had Homer made Achilles join the war far earlier within the tale, I might like The Iliad a bit more. Nevertheless, I borrowed the idea of having a perplexed character deciding to go to war from The Iliad.


ACT V - PART 7


King Kleos tells Ipiretus and his people to hack at the heels of the toad demons to sever the tendons within. For those of you who don't know, that tendon is often called the Achilles Tendon and if it is not in tact, a person will fall, incapable of walking or standing on that foot. Why is it called the Achilles Tendon? Once more I reference you the The Iliad
.


ACT V - PART 8


I wanted Ketsueki to be practically impenetrable. I also wanted the heroes to work together to defeat him so that no single character could say they did more than the rest. Lastly, Xiao-tep, being our main hero, needed to be the one that delivered the final blow. As a result, Comet Fox severed the horn of Ketsueki that would be used as the death-weapon, King Kleos gave the horn to Xiao-tep with the information that Ketsueki was weakest in the pit, Wu Chan Chu broke the knee of the demon which made him raise his arm and finally Xiao-tep drove the horn into the demon's pit. None could have succeeded without the other.



CONCLUSION

When all is said and done, I am simply writing a fairy tale (often associated with children's entertainment) about a flying, speaking fish. A certain amount of levity and light-heartedness must be taken when approaching the subject matter. I do approach it in this way, no matter how much heaviness of thought or philosophical background I may put into these stories.

But the backdrop of culture and ideas of post-industrialization are there. If you can latch onto them, by all means please do. If all you get out of reading this tale is a kick-in-the-pants kind of fun, that's great as well.

Thanks to everyone who has read and supported this work.

One last note: the title of this afterword is "Drawing Down the Sun, Uplifting the Stars". It is inspired from two sources. One is the Wiccan ritual of 'drawing down the moon' wherein a coven requests divine guidance. The other comes from, once again, All Men Are Brothers wherein the 108 heroes are released as spirits into the world and they fly through the sky like shooting stars. Hence, the title of this afterword could mean a calling upon divine guidance coupled with the releasing of heroes. The title could also mean banishing the light so that heroes can be raised in the hours of darkness.

With much love and respect,

~ charles



Here is a quick picture I did in MS Paint of Xiao-tep.