Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 214

“I can’t feel my feet,” Wu complained. “Or my hands, because of this horse. This is terrible. Why did I sign up for this again?” He kicked a rock and hissed at the resulting pain. “I don’t know,” Sen said pleasantly, staring steadily at the next rock. When he resumed staring ahead, he noticed a distant figure shuffling wearily ahead of them. As they neared, the faint details of a well- worn, dark brown monk’s habit sharpened into view, and Sen said, “It seems we have encountered another traveller. Let’s ask him for his story.” Wu gave the figure a once-over and said suspiciously, “Why do his robes have this weird tear down the back?” “All sorts of strange things happen in the desert and mountains,” Sen said reasonably. “I guess we’ll find out.” The monk’s skin was worn rough and tan by the sun, and he carried with him a small leather satchel slung across his chest. He was willing to accept their companionship, and they learned that his name was Jing and he was on his pilgrimage across the desert. Sen was delighted to learn that there was another monk taking the perilous journey, like him. “You should come with us,” he offered amiably, and Jing accepted. “Hey Jing, why are your robes torn in the back?” Wu called from where he was leading the horse behind them. Jing answered immediately. “During a gust of wind, my robes caught on a tree branch. In my terror, I moved too quickly and my robes tore.” He added, “It allows for quite a few icy drafts at night.” Sen nodded in understanding. “Ah, the desert is approaching again,” he said, peering into the horizon. “The sun is about to set. We must move quickly.” Wu was decidedly unhappy about having to fit all three of them into one cramped tent. “Just leave your sword outside,” Sen said exasperatedly. “Why do you even need your sword anyway?” “Why don’t we all leave our things outside?” Wu glared pointedly at Jing’s satchel. “Not like there are wild animals waiting to bite into our food and water, or bandits waiting to steal all our belongings.” They all glared at each other in some sort of three-way exchange of annoyance. “Everyone,” Sen said with an air of finality, “Is going to leave their things outside .” They did. Then they settled against each other to conserve heat and closed their eyes. “You’re really strong for a monk,” Wu said to Jing. “See, Sen, his arms are really strong and hard.” Sen sighed, and silence soon fell over them. ✢ Wu woke to a sudden draft by his legs. The tent entrance flapped in the wind and a cold gust of wind tore at his face, leaving him squinting at the stars. As he crept to the entrance, there was a quiet hiss of sand moving outside, and then a small clink. Wu held his breath as he reached for the sword lying just outside the tent. As his fingers closed around the firm leather of the handle and he lifted the sword, there was an unearthly shriek that pierced his ears and set every nerve in his body on high alert. Behind him, Sen jerked sharply upright as his hands scrabbled for balance on the ground. Just as his mouth began to form words, Wu tossed a pillow at him and gestured to remain silent. Sen glared at him with eyes that demanded an explanation, and as Wu rolled his eyes, the tent fell into shadow. Wu snapped around to see a pair of legs blocking the exit and he dived, locking his arms around the knees and sending both him and the stranger tumbling to the ground. With a vicious yell the stranger lifted an arm and the serene starlight reflected off the edge of his blade, sending Wu rolling to the side to pull the stranger off balance. As Wu kicked the other’s head into the sand, he drew his sword to lop off the protective vest. Keeping one foot planted firmly on the stranger’s back, he drove his sword diagonally through the man’s chest until it pierced the sand, and he kept it there as he waited for the convulsions to stop. A dark stain was spreading across the sand as Sen emerged from the tent. At seeing Wu standing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he looked down and his eyes widened in barely concealed horror and he admonished, “Wu, violence is never the solution.” He knelt and muttered a short prayer. Wu scowled. “Well, he certainly seemed to think it was,” he said, nodding towards the corpse. “It was kill or be killed. Anyway,” he continued hurriedly, as Sen looked as if he were about to begin a lecture, “Let’s check for who he is.”