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The Wanderer, Part 22

Leave a Comment / art, blogging, mindfulness, philosophy, philosophy, Story, storytelling, Wanderer Series, Writing

This story is part of a series, this is the twenty-second part.

You can read the first story here: The Wanderer, Part 1

and the most recent story here: The Wanderer, Part 21

Tas woke up with a jolt. Chills coursed through his body; the alpine air was fresh and crisp and their fire had died down to embers. Yao was snoring loudly and his wispy white beard floated with the wind and his loud snores. Tas’ eyes were hazy and his mind was blurred with fatigue from the day before, but the chill seemed to take only moments to wake him.

They were out of water, but during the past days Yao had taught Tas to build sturdy fires in the cold, to melt snow, and even a bit of rudimentary hunting, though he hadn’t shown Tas any of his expert trapping yet. The old man had caught three hares in a single snare two days ago, but he insisted that Tas wasn’t near ready yet and that he would simply hurt himself if he tried. Tas couldn’t argue; he had never seen snow before the days they had trekked up into the thin mountain air and he was still adjusting. He had never hunted. It was cold, harsh, and darker here, though the sun seemed to shine brighter during the day.

There was a dusty layer of snow on the ground so Tas took to cleaning out their temporary fire pit in the ground then went to collect more dead branches from the bottom of trees. He took his time to build the fire in a square with plenty of space in the middle for dried pine cones, pine needles, small sticks and some other kindling he could find. Using the flint that Yao had given him, he sparked the fire after only 10 minutes of trying; Yao could do it in just a couple, but it had taken Tas nearly an hour the night before.

The fire began to build and Tas took the small copper pot Yao had brought and began to fill his water skin first. When he was done, he woke Yao, knowing that it was time; the sun was rising in the sky and they needed to keep up their pace. Who knew how long they had until Grethatch or Melkar would find them.

Tas woke Yao by prodding him with a stick in the arm; the old man shuttered awake and for a moment his eyes were wild in defense and he looked ready to spring upon an assailant. Tas had learned to stay away from the old man when he woke him from snoring. He laughed as the old man gained his bearings, then moved closer to the fire, a grin of pure satisfaction crossing his lips.

“Good work boy! Maybe your cause isn’t lost after all,” he winked, and took the pot from Tas, filling his own skin, then drinking from it. He had another small vessel full of small leaves that he added to the water, then invited Tas to share in it.

“You think Grethatch will find us?” Tas said wearily. It was undeniable that his body was tired from the long days of trekking to higher and higher altitudes. His breath grew shorter faster and he found his muscles beginning to fail him at times.

“Yes.” Yao said sternly. “He has methods of doing so that I don’t understand, but they are powerful. You saw Melkar’s attack on the monastery; it was planned to perfection. Except for his overestimation of his own strength. It is probably his greatest weakness.” Another wide, this time sinister grin returned to Yao’s bearded and wrinkled face. “The only exception might be his underestimation of me. And by extension, you.”

Tas sat and thought for a moment while drinking the warm tea, feeling his entire body elevate with the hot liquid coursing into his body. It was ecstatic.

“We have two more days until we reach the village where I was born Tas. So now, you need to learn my story. Why I am who I am.”

“I know you were born a hunter Yao, then banished, but I don’t understand why. What happened?” Tas had been waiting for this since he had met the old man. Had it been months, years? He realized he had no idea.

“I wasn’t banished boy, I was exiled. The difference was my choice to leave. There was a corruption in my village that would have strangled me if I had stayed. I did what I had to.”

“What do you mean?” Tas was confused. This was not what he had understood from the little conversation they had shared on the subject earlier.

“My people are bloodthirsty Tas. The same rage and thirst runs through my veins, but I have tempered it, mostly with Fei’s help.”

“He disappeared!” Tas exclaimed. “Do you think Grethatch or Melkar capture or killed him?”

Yao laughed wholeheartedly in response, giving Tas instant relief.

“Fei may look harmless, but he’s as slimy as a snake and quiet as a mouse when he needs to be.” Yao’s expression grew more serious, “Never under-estimate the power of a monk, they dedicate their lives to learning themselves and by extension, their world. You saw Paj’s power. Fei’s is even more potent, which is why he commands the respect of the entire monastery.”

“It’s hard to think of him as so powerful; he’s so kind.”

“Fei is rare indeed; power nearly always corrupts those who grasp it. Honestly, he is one of my few friends in this world, Tas.”

“All of mine have been left behind.” Tas said, lowering his eyes and thinking back to his village. Tears suddenly welled in his eyes as his thought of his mother and father; where were they now?

“We leave behind everything in the course of our lives Tas. But looking back is important.” Yao said with a weak smile. “The past will always be behind you and that’s where it belongs.”

Tas didn’t really understand what Yao meant, but it comforted him all the same. He thought again to where they were going, taking Yao’s advice.

“So we are going to the village where you were born? Do you think we will be safe there?”

“I do not know.” Yao said seriously, his expression grew darker. He refilled the copper pot with snow and placed it near the fire, that was beginning to turn to embers. But it was still hot.

“My people are warriors, Tas. They do not know sympathy; they deal in death, honor, and strength. We will have one chance to find safe haven amongst them. I can only hope that chance will be on our side.”

“Chance? What does chance have to do with strength and honor?” Tas said curiously.

Yao laughed again, his normal hearty chuckle that Tas had grown terribly fond of. “Everything Tas. And do not be deceived by the tenets of honor; men are deceptive and sometimes evil beings. We are easily corrupted Tas. My biggest fear is that Melkar, or perhaps his allies hold have over my people.”

“You think he might have already been and corrupted your people? What drives that demon anyways? What does he even want with us?”

“He wants me dead. That is sure. As for my people, they are not easily corrupted; but I have thought the same of friends that have fallen to the shadows. So truthfully, I do not know.”

“And Melkar?”

“Melkar is a being of hate and greed. He likely wants your apprenticeship to wound me. That is why I believe he let you live while only corrupting you.” Yao grinned again, darkly. “A big mistake on his part.”

Tas thought back to the nightmare where he had been corrupted by the wyrm. Yao had to be right; Tas should have died that night.

Yao began to pack up their blankets and packs and they put out the fire. Tas felt rested and a bit worried, but happier to know where they were going and why. He couldn’t help but think that Yao was so different from his expectations. Gritting his teeth, Tas hauled his pack, took a long swig of cold mountain water, then followed his master up the slope into the chilled air of the alpine.

The Wanderer, Part 22 Read More »

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Diamonds in the Rough

Leave a Comment / art, Asia, balance, blogging, Daoism, detachment, history, mindfulness, opinion, philosophy, reality, religion, Story, storytelling, traveling, Vietnam, Writing, yoga philosophy

“A diamond has the highest hardness and thermal conductivity of any bulk material; it can be contaminated by very few types of impurities. Most natural diamonds are formed at high temperature and pressure. A material with superlative physical qualities, most of it original from the strong bonds between its atoms.” -Wikipedia

Sometimes, people rise above their circumstances to greatness. They are forged, hardened by pressure and time to rise above their surroundings and to become more than anyone thought they could become. I’ve been lucky to witness this in several people from all over the world. People all over the world have the capacity to be greater than their circumstances would “normally” dictate.

There’s a popular saying going around now: “Everyone is doing the best they can with what they have.” I have come to believe that this is completely untrue and a complete idealization; all you have to do is look at the amount of corruption in much of our species to know that people often take the easy way out. Look at the US senate, can you really say they are doing the best they can with what they have?We are lazy beings, like all other mammals we want to be able to sit back, relax, and enjoy the sun and the food it grows. (in balanced quantities of course)

This isn’t to say that people will always take advantage of everything they can; instead, its acknowledging that there will always be both sides to the equation; those that take complete advantage and those that take none and in fact give willingly with no thought of receiving. I’ve witnessed a lot of both lately while I’ve been traveling.

Yesterday was a rough day for me; the traveling and budget have gotten to me and I’m exhausted (you can read yesterday’s article on my mental fatigue here. But the equation will always balance itself out. Today I met an absolute gem of a woman on my way to the Minh Mang tomb. Her name was Rei Nguyen.

Rei was a farmer and told us that she and her husband made around 5 million dong per month (about $250). She sent her kids to a school that cost about 2 million per month, in the city of Hoi.

My girlfriend and I rented a scooter for $4 and headed to the tomb this morning, pretty excited to see the most renowned tomb in what appears to be the cultural center of Vietnam. Largely affected by the Vietnam War (known locally as the American War), we were able to see a lot of the effects of the war in our travels, most particularly the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh (Saigon). There was a good amount of propaganda at the museum, especially geared towards the use of illegal chemicals such as agent orange, the US’s involvement in the war, and Vietnam’s victims. This is not to say there wasn’t massive effect from illegal chemical weapons used by the US, but there was no mention of Russia, or of the civil war in Vietnam. As usual, there was a scapegoat to take the blame and the US took full brunt force of it; it’s probably deserved. (again, I’m not saying I know the situation, but I’ve seen this before in WWI & WWII propaganda, Civil War propaganda, and pretty much every war in history is necessarily affected by propaganda where one country is blamed for the entirety of the war)

Rei’s english was incredibly good for anyone in Vietnam, let alone a farmer with an education that ended when she was 12. She works 10 hour days out in the fields with her husband and eats mostly rice and noodles, though she wasn’t malnourished as far as I could tell. She was extremely kind to us, showed us a shortcut to the tomb and then invited us to her small house by the river to talk and have some tea.

The tomb was incredibly peaceful; death has a way of making the life so powerful. We walked around the tomb for a couple of hours in the scorching heat and humidity, then returned with her to her home.

I noticed she was lucky enough to have electricity and running water; he house was small, with wooden walls and a tin roof and she graciously offered us tea while we spoke about her life and how my life was very different from hers. She ultimately ended up asking for money for her children’s school, but it was far more of an afterthought than most of what I have experienced in Vietnam. Most will ask for money, then turn their back and mutter under their breath when you refuse their service. She offered us a kind smile and sharing of words and experiences that has been unique in my trip to Vietnam.

In this trip, I’ve met people poorer than you can imagine that still show kindness and refuse to take extra money no matter how hard you try. I’ve met people who I’ve gotten along with like I’ve known them my whole life.

One sterling example of this is one of my Muslim friends from Yemen; probably the one of the nicest and friendliest people I have ever met. He owns about six AK47’s at his home and Yemen and left to pursue a more peaceful education in Mysore. Yemen is currently in Civil war and he has been directly affected by it with the death of some of his immediate family members, yet still he pursues kindness and happiness relentlessly. I was with him while it started and there was definitely a lot of swearing and frustration, but it didn’t change his outlook. He goes against any stereotype I could have held against someone of the Muslim religion.

The owner of the Chakra house, Rajesh was like this as well; one of the nicest and most relaxed people I have ever met. He and I will be friends just like the day I left if I ever return to Mysore (which is highly probable). It’s funny how you meet people who you feel like you’ve known your whole life when you travel.

People are individuals and that’s how they should be treated. One is not representative of the whole, because there is so much variation in our species. So at the same time that there are all of these awesome people I have met, there are also some abominable ones.

Let me give you some examples, from history. I don’t like to talk about negatives in reality because people can change and who am I to judge them. With that said, world leaders are different and I feel at full liberty to judge their decisions. There are some terrible people in our world: Kim Jong Il, definitely not doing the best with what he has especially after his most recent execution; neither did Stalin, or Hitler, or Mussolini. Even American leaders smell of stank corruption that can ruin the people: George Bush, Dick Cheney, Nixon, Ulysses S Grant, Kennedy. Even the greatness of America has such powerful potential for corruption because of the essence of its power.

The truth is, humans will look out for themselves before others and in our modern world we absolutely HAVE to expect this from everyone. Think about it this way; even if you are about self-sacrifice, you would give to your children first and foremost the greatest opportunity to succeed in the world. We look out for ourselves before others and this isn’t a bad thing, it’s simply the reality of humanity. This is why the US is struggling right now, our system of checks and balances has become completely unbalanced in the wake of our economic prosperity in the 80s and 90s and leaders continue to take advantage of the people they rule just as they have since the beginning of time.

Unfortunately, this can even apply to our immediate family. You see celebrities with major mental and stability problems, likely because they can’t even trust their support systems and families anymore (this is just my observation, feel free to comment on it). It’s really sad, but that’s how money can corrupt people. Greed, it seems, is simultaneously the great human strength and weakness.

But on the other side, there are people who will give without even caring about what they receive; they give kindness freely and love as often as they can, as long as their basic needs are met. Sometimes, they even defy those. Remember to think of it as an equation, because that’s what the world we live in requires.

Writing yesterday made me feel so much better, today the same. I really hope that these comments are misunderstood, I am trying to be very objective and am applying my experiences to the greater scope of the world we live in together. I walked around today with a big smile and decided that I would kill my fatigue with kindness and it has worked. I feel a hell of a lot better.

Please let me know what you think of this article in the comments, or on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/padayoga

I always love to hear from readers.

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The Wanderer, Part 20

Leave a Comment / Story, storytelling, Wanderer Series, Writing

This story is part of a series, this is the twentieth part.

You can read the first story here: The Wanderer, Part 1

and the most recent story here: The Wanderer, Part 19

Tas found himself in the dark, though he didn’t know how he arrived there. He got up to walk and found himself in a dark chamber; the air was damp and cold. The floor was hard stone but his feet were silent on it. He ambled through the corridor and found a door at the end, made of a wooden frame with ornamentation that Tas couldn’t have imagined; demons and monsters vied for space at the depths of a powerfully raging sea. Waves swelled and the shadows seemed to flicker, mesmerizing Tas. He moved his eyes slowly to the sky and saw bat-like monsters soaring through the skies and dark winged ravens above them; the ravens had eyes that pieced through the darkness and seemed to know everything. He could also saw some creatures roaming on the shore, but they were very small in comparison to the monsters of the sea and sky, more like rats that anything else.

Tas looked down at his own hands and found that they were all but a shadow, barely visible in the darkness. He slowly touched the door handle and found it surprisingly warm to his touch. Suddenly, the door creaked open without effort. He stepped through it, into a darkness even more consuming than the one he was already in.

After a minute of standing and looking out into the black void, Tas found that he could see well in the darkness, though focusing his eyes was a terribly exhausting effort. He saw a path a little ways off in the distance and knew it was where he needed to go. There was nothing else around him but a barren landscape. As Tas stepped out into the shifting shadow grass he felt a dampness; surprisingly, he found it to be somewhat comforting. It felt as though the shadows were a part of him, comforting and soothing him as he walked.

The landscape was completely barren, except for his path; almost like a desert but with fields and flatlands in every except for his left where a great sea raged and stormed in the far distance. He barely make out the sea monsters from the picture on the door vying for the surface, being tugged to the bottom by what seemed to be chained of smoking shadow. Some force Tas didn’t understand. It was like they were all far too heavy and kept sinking to the bottom unless the clawed at each other to get to the top. So they raked at each other and pulled each other down into the dark depths. So many seemed to fall but innumerable more would simply replace the fallen. It was a viciously cycle that Tas eventually tore his eyes from forcefully. He had to follow the path.

The path wound above the sea, on cliffs that descended sharply into shards and rubble and break-rocks on the shore. As Tas looked closer at the water he found that it was unlike anything he had ever seen; he didn’t know if he could call it water. It was blacker and more viscous, and they seemed to crash much harder against the shore. It attached itself to the rocks as it slammed against them and he knew that this was no sea. Tas got a deep sense of foreboding and decided to keep his gaze to his right as he walked on the cliff side path, the sea raging out of his mind to the left.

It was a treacherous climb; several times Tas had to double back to find the proper way up through the rocks. He was becoming more and more tired, something he had not expected. Even his eyes were starting to shut. The concentration required to keep going was slowly becoming insurmountable. But as soon as he finished walking, ready to give up, Tas glanced ahead at a cave in side of the cliff. He waited a moment to regain his strength, but when it didn’t come, pushed himself forward towards the small opening in the rocky cliffs. The air was heavy with his fatigue and he almost had to stop again before reaching the small cave, but manage to make it without keeling over.

As he entered under the low and sharp rocks at the mouth of the cave, he pulled his hands away from the damp rocks, sticky with the dark liquid he assumed to be the same as the sea. It was sticky like honey, but as he brought his hand to his face, the substance absorbed into his skin. Something was very odd about this place, but Tas had to time to be confused. He could barely keep his eyes open. He felt his way slowly through the dark passage until it opened into a larger cave; though Tas could barely tell because of the dark. He groped along the wall as he stood up all the way, using his hands to feel in the blackness. He continued a bit further until he could go no further. His eyes were closed and he was too tired to keep them open. His concentration fell into the darkness and the darkness surrounded him. But as he lay down on the cold and damp floor to fall asleep something dark took a hold of him.

Tas woke up in a different small, dark room, though it had a bright light in the middle. He didn’t know where he was. The light shined directly into Tas’ face, making it so that he couldn’t see anything, even as he focused his eyes. He was seated and couldn’t move; and he was bound to some kind of metal chair. The bindings slithered across his skin creepily; their moist grip sent chills running down his spine. He knew they were made of the shadows, he could feel it. Suddenly a door opened and the dark figure from his nightmares stepped in. Grethatch wore a furious expression; dark, bruised eyes with a splash of menacing satisfaction. His eyes glowed a faint red, not nearly as brightly as Melkar’s. In addition, his face was still completely intact; Melkar’s was a hideously diseased and rotting thing that made Tas sick just thinking about it. But that didn’t stop Tas’ entire body from shuttering uncontrollably when Grethatch put his face in front of Tas’, grinning so wide that Tas could see each of his sharp and demonic looking teeth. The tattoos lining his face moved, circling his eyes; Tas looked away forcefully.

“I thought you might pursue that curiosity of yours.” Another evil grin spread Grethatch’s dark lips and a sinister laugh echoed in the stone chamber. “What it is you wanted to know? Oh yes, I almost forgot. You wanted to know god, wasn’t it?” Now the laugh was far louder and caused Tas’ skin to prickel. The stone walls seemed to shutter. “Well, you have found him. Melkar is god.”

Now it was Tas’ turn to laugh. “What do you know of god, fiend? You know only lust, demon’s pet. Masters follow themselves, not incubi” He spat the last word out, using the strongest insult he knew, though he didn’t really know what it meant. Yao had used it once to insult a merchant who was trying to overcharge them and the merchant had almost fought him over it.

Grethatch’s smile faded and was replaced by one of fury and he let loose a snarl, “Yao knows nothing. You follow an old man to his long-avoided death. You believe he will show you god? You are a fool!”

“You follow Melkar like a child. You are just an apprentice, like I am to Yao. You think yourself to be Melkar’s equal? Or perhaps you desire his power, is that why you follow him like a little lamb?”

At this Grethatch grew angry and slapped Tas across the face. Tas knew he had gone too far; he decided he would hold his tongue; he could taste the blood from Grethatch’s sharp nails “I am a demon myself boy! I follow no one. I have spent enough time in the nether to know the power of darkness; but you, this is your first time, isn’t it?” The grin returned. “Well, let me be the first to welcome you to your destiny! Now I will send your soul into the depths of the sea, where you learn the meaning of true suffering!”Grethatch raised his curved blade and Tas closed his eyes. He was terrified, but in that moment, he felt the same peace of his first night of meditation with Yao. He didn’t care.

But instead of pain, he heard a ear-shattering clang that startled his eyes open. He jumped back automatically. As soon as his eyes focused he saw a spear in mid-air having met Grethatch’s blow head on and forcing him to step back. The spear had come from nowhere, but the bottom of it was missing, like it was cut in half. Then a tear in the air seemed to open right in the middle of the room and light poured through, along with a lunging Yao, moving at his lightning fast attack speed, spinning whirling and jumping. His attack on Grethatch was furious relentless, and even more intense than in the village. Paj walked in slowly afterwards his eyes fixed on the battle between Yao and Grethatch. Yao pushed Grethatch back from Tas with blow after blow that would have shattered the strength of a normal man, but the demon held his ground. Even Yao’s unyielding attacks proved ineffective at pushing past the villain’s guard.

Tas moved towards Paj as he watched Yao slice swiftly press forward, cutting seamlessly through the air, his spear was like a bird on the wind, always circling his opponent, connecting with powerful strikes that Tas couldn’t follow. But Grethatch was as fast and avoided his spear continually when he didn’t block with his great strength; he used his own sword to deflect blow after blow, but Tas could see he had no time to counterattack. He continued to step back against Yao’s onslaught. As he retreated, the shadows drew towards Grethatch and the light towards Yao as they circled each other in furious combat a storm of shadow and light formed around them. But Yao’s speed increased steading and soon he was pushing Grethatch’s back against the wall. Once the demon’s back hit the wall, a fury erupted and finally he successfully counterattacked Yao. Powerful stroked sliced through the air, leaving trails of shadow pulsating against the light pouring through the hole in the center of the room.

Tas had never seen anything move so gracefully; the only thing Grethatch’s sword could find was air. It missed the old man each time by wide margins, as the old man danced swiftly away from each blow. Then, with a dizzying spin and counterattack, that Tas couldn’t see, Yao’s blade found Grethatch’s flesh and with a heavy thud, his forearm and hand hit the floor. Yao had severed his arm from the elbow down.

A scream pierced through the chamber, curdling Tas’ blood and causing him to duck and cover his ears. He could see a tar-like black liquid dripping viscously from Grethatch’s arm, a mixture of blood and shadow. Immediately, the shadows seemed to push against the open wound closing it. He looked up to see Yao smack Grethatch in the side of the head with the butt of his spear, and watched him fall unconscious to the floor. Yao took the demon and pulled him right into the tear of light as Grethatch screamed in agony. The scream made Tas fall to his knees weakly, his energy was all but gone. He was so tired that he couldn’t move. He looked up at Paj who didn’t seem to have heard anything and was watching Tas intently. Paj grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet, supporting him under the shoulder. Then Paj pushed forward to the blinding light of the tear in the center of the room, and everything went black as Tas fainted.

The Wanderer, Part 20 Read More »

The Wanderer, Part 19

Leave a Comment / storytelling, Wanderer Series, Writing

This story is a part of a series. This is the 19th part of the Wanderer

You can read the first story here: The Wanderer, Part 1

or the previous story here: The Wanderer, Part 18

Tas woke with a start. His body ached, he was so sore from the day before. His back hurt and his legs felt like jelly, but he got himself up from the bed and yawned. Cracking his shoulders and neck, he stood and remembered. The shadow; he could feel it in his stomach. He had only one option, like Yao said; to fight it.

He gritted his teeth and began to walk, taking his time to warm up his legs and let a bit of the stiffness subside. Yao would undoubtedly have him training harder today; Tas was not looking forward to it.

Tas joined the morning ceremony, but something was wrong. Fei was missing and Tas couldn’t seem to find any trace of Yao. Since Fei normally invoked the morning ceremony, the monks were a bit unsettled, talking to one another and looking for Fei. A few seemed to be walking around the grounds, most were a bit alarmed.

Tas immediately knew something wasn’t right. He didn’t see Paj either. As soon as he entered the courtyard, the sky began to darken, dark clouds moved with swift currents to replace the bright blue sky. Shadows darkened and loomed and Tas could feel the shadow inside of himself growing in power, though it wasn’t unpleasureable. In fact, he felt stronger than ever. His pain and fatigue subsided and his strength returned. The monks around him began to moan with displeasure and then became restless, their calm forgotten; but Tas paid no mind to them. Tas was deep within himself, beginning to feel a deep, low buzz growing inside of himself, something that he had never felt before. He knew instinctively that it had to do with the shadow wyrm. It was like his heart became a drum and his body was pulsating with sensations; he could feel power coursing through him.

His eyes became more focused and his heart continued to beat powerfully in his chest. His gaze turned to the balcony and he saw the dark, hooded figures from his nightmares standing above the monks, looming over the crowd. The dark sky lowered to surround them, and the shadows pulled to and fro around them, growing larger and moving closer, then fading away and growing smaller to make another round. Tas’ eyes focused on the eyes of Melkar; a dark bright red light illuminated from them, sometimes being blocked by the shadows emanating from his skin. It was as if his pores breathed the darkness and it pulsated around him.

A sliver of the shadow passed near Tas, but it didn’t simply pass; it seemed to attach itself to him, until he began to feel the power radiating in his blood, like a growing rage in his heart. It beat harder and faster now, his breathing became ragged and angry. He felt so strong.

Tas looked to his right and saw Yao watching him intently, curiously. The old man no doubt had been watching the whole time from the shadows; his favorite hiding place. Yao stepped out from the darkness to glint his spear at Melkar. Instantly, the shadows retracted back into Melkar, the sky brightened again except for a dark cloud that blocked the sun from Melkar. Grethatch was by his side, but silent, observing.

A hideous raspy voice echoed from the darkly cloaked imposter, deeper and darker than Tas could have imagined. He felt it in his soul, his bones shook with its power. “Yao, you are here. I thought you might be.” What must have been a laugh echoed in the hallways. “You have aged since we last met.” Melkar’s tone was almost playful, though it was also terrifying and gave Tas chills.

Yao just laughed. His smile was bigger than Tas had even seen it. “You laugh makes me happy, Melkar! It reminds me of how long it has been, indeed it does!” Yao was cackling now, he was almost on the floor because he was clutching his side so tightly. Tas didn’t know what to think; part of him was terrified, the other half was triumphant. Obviously Yao and Melkar had met before and Yao had won! That was promising.

Melkar’s cackle faded completely with Yao’s laughter. He waited for a moment for the old man to finish (which he took his time doing), then spoke in the same hideous tone, causing Tas to tremble again, “You think me to be the same since last we met? I have been in the nether, Yao, you think I have learned nothing from it.”

Yao’s smile faded slightly, “probably not. But I guess we’ll see. You certainly smell much worse than before. I can smell your stench from over here,” Yao wiped his nose with emphasis much to the annoyance of Melkar, who stood watching the old man with a look of pure loathing.

Melkar jumped from the balcony, abandoning Grethatch and falling with the heavy thud of thickly armored boots. He slowly removed his hood, revealing foot long horns and eyes that were so red they seemed to burn out of their sockets, like a fire. His face was disgusting and rotting, gnats crawled from his cheeks and flies buzzed around his head. Tas was disgusted and entranced.

Yao laughed again, louder this time, “You are definitely uglier than the last time we met. What have you been eating anyways? Goose turds? I hear those are popular in the northern cities.”

Melkar launched into a charge at these last words, a deep rumbling cry of rage pierced through the entire courtyard, aimed directly at Yao. Shadows gathered behind him, pushing him forward towards Yao, fueling him, his eyes burned as he launched himself forward; Tas knew this was dark magic and could feel his own strength grow from Melkar’s power. He knew what was fueling him now, his vision became even sharper, he could see Melkar so clearly, the burning eyes, the rotting flesh of his face, the black horns rose above his head, raised against the sky.

Yao moved in the blink of an eye, almost faster than Tas could see. He threw a small knife from his boot directly at Melkar first, causing him to move right into his spear that was coming down from above. Melkar stepped to the side at the last moment, then ducked another huge swing from Yao and rolled backwards, pushed again by his shadow. He moved so quickly.

But Yao was already above him, swinging down hard and clanging against the stone, barely missing his mark. Melkar kicked Yao from his dodged position, then slid back up to attack Yao head on, in close range.

The old man dropped his spear immediately and swiftly ducked Melkar’s punch; Tas thought him to be even faster than the shadow fueled demon. Yao turned and began his own assault, his fists flew and connected hard, then he brought his feet to bear on Melkar’s knees and wounded him yet again. Melkar began to hobble, but in his yell of rage connected his fist with Yao’s face. The old man stumbled backwards and almost fell, but Tas arrived just in time to catch him and keep him from falling. Melkar retreated, hobbled and obviously intimidated by Yao’s strength. But Tas noticed that the demon slowly began to walk better; like he was healing in mid-battle.

Tas found his own strength waning. He felt weak, so weak that he almost couldn’t move anymore. His run to help Yao had drained him.

Melkar continued to retreat, but Yao was not well. There was something dark on his forehead, and it seemed to pulsate with shadow, the same way that Melkar’s shadow did.

“Where is Paj!?” Yao yelled to the grounds, clutching his head. The monks had begun to re-emerge from underground, no doubt having fled to hide from Melkar. Paj rustled himself from the crowd and began to chant immediately upon seeing Yao, undoubtedly working to stunt the growth of the shadow on his head. Tas walked as fast as he could towards Yao, but it was little more than a slow limp. He could see the shadow fighting Paj’s voice at first, but with time the waves of shadow soothed themselves and faded from Yao completely after about 10 minutes. Tas still felt very weak, but was doing his best to help Yao. He was fighting his pain, but Tas could tell he was weak as well.

Paj and Tas carried the old man slowly from the stairs of the balcony down to the ground level entrance, leading him down into the lower levels of the monastery. Paj was still chanting something, but Tas’ head was pounding too heavily to notice. What had happened when Melkar had called his shadow powers? Tas had felt euphoric, full of live, and so much power. Was that the power that Melkar wielded? Tas didn’t understand. They brought Yao down to a room on the lower level for him to simply recover; Tas resolved to return to feed him at morning and night while he rested. But Tas knew better than to expect Yao to rest for long.

After taking Yao down, Tas followed Paj up the stairs to his tower. He knew that Paj wanted to talk to him, but Paj knew that Tas really wanted to talk to Yao. And Tas also knew that conversation would have to wait for tomorrow.

“You realize what has happened here, don’t you?” Paj sighed with obvious frustration. “You can’t stay here. He will return, stronger. Grethatch didn’t even participate. He might have wanted to master to fall. You and Yao have to leave tonight; this place is not safe for you. I’m sorry my friend.” Paj hung his head as he apologized, but Tas didn’t understand.

Tas was shocked. He was so used to living here now that leaving seemed absurd. Where could they be safe? And his training…

“But my training…”

“Yao will continue it with you. He is the most skilled in warfare, though not in the same mysticisms as myself. You will have to make due with the knowledge you have; it will serve you well. Your hard work will be useful, we will just have to hope that it is enough.” Paj smiled feebly and Tas knew there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm or arrogance in his voice. But Tas could see the worry in his teacher’s eyes.

“Okay.” Tas said slowly. Where would they go? Yao would know. He need to talk to the old man; maybe he would wake him for a few moments before getting ready to leave. But Paj insisted that he wait until it was time to leave.

“You need to let him rest now; in an hour we will wake him and you’ll have plenty of time to talk then.

Tas turned to walk down to his room to prepare his belongings, though he had only clothes and a few star charts that he had copied from Paj’s own charts. Paj was readying some concoction that Tas didn’t understand as he walked from the room; he would fill his small pack with some food from the kitchen. It had been so long since he had wandered the deserts with the old man; he wondered where they would go now.

He prepared everything, gathering food from the kitchen and saying goodbye to his fews friends in the kitchen and by his room. He took some final moments meditate and found the shadows inside of him flickering; he liked to watch them as they moved through him even though they were weak. He remembered Shu’s lessons and sighed; he would miss his presence while he meditated in the deep forest. Tas laid down for a moment to rest, continuing his meditation and thinking of all the things he would miss about this magical place. Tas fell asleep easily that night, letting the shadows wash over him, eventually taking him deeper into his dreams than he had ever been; his need to leave forgotten in the dark of his mind.

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The Wanderer, Part 17

Leave a Comment / philosophy, storytelling, Wanderer Series, Writing

This story can be read alone, or as the 17th section of the wanderer story.

You can read the first story here: The Wanderer, Part 1

or the latest story here: The Wanderer, Part 16

Tas woke up on a table in the middle of Fei’s chamber, his stomach was in agony and he could barely move except to go deeper into the fetal position. He realized suddenly that Yao was chanting above him, locked in concentration. The pain was slowly leaving his body and Yao was holding something, Tas had to put his head back down to cope with the massive waves a pain from his gut. He felt like he was dry heaving, but without any result except the contraction in his abdomen.

Yao began to chant a bit more loudly now, and Tas managed to look up and see the black wyrm wriggling in his hand, nearly dried up of its dark liquid and covered in a mucky slime that seemed to partially disappear into vapor before hitting the ground. The Tas was slowly feeling the pain leave, he could breathe again and the tears stopped streaming from his eyes. Yao’s voice was steady in the background, he had never been so grateful for the old man in his life. Fei began to help Tas to drink some water as the waves of pain faded more and more. After a minute of recovering, Tas could see that Yao was still locked in concentration, eye fixed on the wyrm in his hand.

Yao continued for the next 5 minutes, then stopped once the wyrm was motionless for a few minutes. He threw the carcass into the fireplace for Fei to burn later in the afternoon.

Once Tas could breath normally, he asked, “Melkar said it was from the north and so was he. What does that mean?”

“It means they have both died,” Yao said, careless, as usual. “And come back with the power of the shadows.”

Fei looked at Yao disapprovingly, as if he had ruined a surprise or something of the sort. After a quick gruff, he spoke, “The North is a place without as much light, Tas. Darker things thrive there and people who have spent extended periods of time there come back different than when they left.” Fei turned to Paj, “My theory, or hypothesis excuse me, is that Melkar’s remains were taken into the north by Grethatch, sometime after Melkar’s first death.” Fei looked at Yao now, who was picking dirt from under his fingernails.

After a moment, Yao realized they were waiting for him and gave a shrug, “what do you want me to say? I killed that bastard, tore his head from his shoulders with a morning star.” He looked at Tas now, “it was quite the swing,” winked, and returned to picking his fingernails. Fei looked deeply disturbed for a moment, then resumed his normal smile.

Paj spoke now, “Tas, you have been entangled in something older than your self, as we all are when we are born into this world. Your dream, rather, nightmare last night was no accident. Melkar knows you now and so does Grethatch for that matter,” He looked alternately at Fei and Yao now.

Yao spoke now, “there is no use terrifying the boy.”

“Wait,” Tas copied the way Yao spoke on occasion, heightening his voice then softening it to get the others to listen. “What is happening to me?”

Yao laughed now, “Your mind was under attack by a shadow wyrm, or something along those lines, no one can know what Melkar has been creating in the shadow. Without my extraction, you would have entered into a permanent nightmare. And in the process, become Melkar’s slave.” He looked more seriously at Tas now, “You must be careful for the next few days. It may take up to a week for your body to process and get rid of the shadow.”

Fei nodded, “meditation will help.” He looked at the others, “But we must be careful now. There is no telling how much control Melkar might have over the boy.”

Yao locked eyes with Fei, “I disagree. The boy is resilient and powerful. We should continue his training.”

Fei’s eyes now darkened, in a way that Tas hadn’t seen before, “You would fling his life around like a plaything, teaching him that which can kill him, harm him, put him in the way of death?”

“Do you suddenly believe in accidents Fei? This is the boy’s destiny. He has chosen to walk the path towards god, he said so himself! Who are we not only to stand in his way of his path, where-ever he is being led.”

Fei sighed, “your way is so detached. Do you have no compassion for him?”

“I do, that is why I wish to arm him with all of the skills necessary to defend himself.” Yao was resolute, Tas could feel it, not only from looking at his eyes.

Paj remained silent as Fei scanned the room for support. Tas finally got up the courage to speak, “Do you think he will come back?”

“Do wolves give up their hunt? How about when they smell blood? He smells a soul to reap, he will be back sure as the sun rises.”

“Then I have no choice.” Tas said, knowing his mind was made. “We should train starting tomorrow.”

Paj sighed, shook his head, then spoke, “I am sad to say it. But we should certainly. Your life will not be an easy one Tas. This is only the beginning of the terrible darkness that a black reaper can bring.” He looked at Fei and Yao to make sure they understood. “His warlock friend is also a nuisance, but I will teach you how to shield your mind against both of them. You will sleep soundly within the week.” He said it jauntily, but Tas wasn’t so excited for a week of sleepless nights.

Fei spoke now, “I will put the best resources the temple can provide. You will be ready to defend yourself when the time is right, Tas.”

Yao just sat, but Tas would wait. Finally, he spoke, harshly and barely audible, “Wake up before the sun. Meet me in the central grounds, that’s when we start your physical training.”

Tas was surprised with himself, but he was excited to train with Yao again, more than anything else.

“After morning ceremony, meet me on the balcony,” Fei said with a smile.

Paj took Tas by the hand and led him away, “For now, you can rest. We will talk some more when you wake up. Be careful; do not forget about what was inside of you this morning…”

Tas nodded, nearly asleep again and let himself be led back to his room, when he fell onto the mattress and let himself fade into the dark of sleep.

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The Wanderer, Part 16

1 Comment / philosophy, storytelling, Wanderer Series, Writing

This story can be read alone, or as the 16th section of the wanderer story.

You can read the first story here: The Wanderer, Part 1

or the latest story here: The Wanderer, Part 15

Tas slipped in and out of sleep throughout the entire morning ceremony. He felt like he hadn’t rested at all the night before, almost like he hadn’t even slept. The dream was still lingering in his mind, the dark figures looming over him from the corner of his eye. He looked around constantly, always feeling the shadows and his captors from the night before through them.

Finally he found himself before master Fei, on the balcony overlooking the central ground where they met each morning to invoke the day. As he approached, he saw Yao waiting, something he definitely had not expected. Yao was not supposed to return for 3 weeks and the old man had looked certain of his promise when he had left. But upon looking at his eyes, Tas could tell he was worried. Things had certainly changed since the old man left. He wondered how much Yao knew.

As he approached, Fei grew wary. Tas could see the worry lace his eyes. Tas turned as he felt a hand on his back, Paj was there was well. They all walked into Fei’s apartment, without even a word. They all took their time find a comfortable place to sit on the small floor, pulling cushions and pillows to support their legs and backs as they sat.

It was Yao who spoke first, in a commanding tone, “Paj, I understand that you have been succeeding in teaching Tas dreamwalking. Tell me everything.”

Paj gave a slight chuckle, though his tone was very serious. “Always the blunt one, eh Yao? You’ve never had a breath of patience.” Yao was silent, waiting.

“Well, you see the boy started to do it of his own accord; three nights ago, if my memory is correct. He aligned himself somehow with Jupiter during the full moon and went to see his parents. Hardly something troublesome, especially because I did not tell him about the full moon; he learned and remember it himself. How could one blame a boy for being curious about such things.

“I spent the first week of teaching spending time only on planetary movements. The boy memorized them all in a week.” He gave Tas a quick glance, filled with something that looked like incredulity. “So I began to teach him how to attune with planetary energies, to open his meditations. In the process, we talked about the different ways to use planetary energies and many of the different techniques were discussed.” He said the last part slowly, as if re-realizing Tas was still in the room; he obviously didn’t want Tas to learn more of the ‘techniques’ he had been in the process of learning. Tas and Paj both knew that Tas would continue his studies.

“After Tas had his first unwarranted walk, I decided that I would take him with me while I investigate a rumor. A rumor… that turned out to be true.” He turned to master Fei, “Melkar is embodied again, Fei. He is incarnated with the assistance of Grethatch, a monk who was an old pupil of mine.” Paj sighed, obviously tired himself. “They travel together; a dangerous combination for anyone who crossed their path.” He looked seriously at Yao without reaction. Yao seemed as wily as ever, nonchalantly brushing Paj’s words aside. Paj continued.

“We saw them threatening a villager, removed from the town and in a dark cave, undoubtedly to conceal Melkar’s rabid and unrelenting stench. Considering his age…” Paj trailed off for a second, a look of disgust entering his nose. Tas didn’t remember a smell, but then again, it was a dream so he hardly remembered anything, except the crushing feeling when Grethatch had taken hold of him.

“So we have Grethatch and Melkar who are wandering in the world, who knows where…” Fei said slowly. “What happened when you saw them two nights ago?”

“They were threatening a villager.” Paj said. “There was some kind of shipment, the cave was full of boxes. And they were threatening a villager, Fiden, I think his name was. But I have no idea where they were.” Paj’s eyes glinted as he looked at the others, obviously very happy with himself. “I managed to track him with my own dreams. But it is a technique I think best left unspoken of.” He glanced at Tas then turned back to the group. “The rest of the story, I am unsure of.”

Everyone looked expectantly at Tas, but he was falling in and out of sleep while he listened to Paj. Yao gave him a strong clap on the back and Tas howled in pain, but he wouldn’t fall asleep again.

“I don’t remember what happened, really.” Tas said slowly. “I just remember being lost and not remembering how I got to where I was. It was dark, then the two men came out of the dark, mostly by surprise Tas said coldly. The second man kind of appeared from the shadows. Melkar, you called him. He was terrifying and they both had horns.”

Yao responded now, “How did you escape? Why did they let you leave?” He seemed curious, as if there was a missing puzzle piece somewhere that he was looking for.

“Actually,” Tas said slowly, cautiously. “they fed me a wyrm, though I’m not sure what it is.”

“A wyrm?” Fei said shortly. “what does that mean?”

“Some smaller creature crawled down my throat, it was slimy and there was nothing I could do.” Tas felt his stomach. “I could feel it.” Now it feels gone though. He was still so tired, now that the slap faded he was falling asleep again.

Yao looked at him now, his eyes didn’t leave, but Tas’ did. He fell asleep, his chin falling to his shoulders and the last thing he remembered was barely managing to open to his eyes for a second to seeing Yao holding him and chanting something slowly and dark, grumbly; with a sigh he passed out again, this time into the a darkness that he could not force himself to wake from.

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The Wanderer, Part 13

Leave a Comment / art, meditation, philosophy, storytelling, Uncategorized, Wanderer Series, Writing, yoga philosophy

This story can be read alone, or as the 13th story of the wanderer series.

Please see the first story here: The Wanderer, Part 1

or the latest story here: The Wanderer, Part 12

The sky was very dark and hazy, at first Tas was just walking along a lonely road, but he could recognize it. He continued to stare at the ground, mesmerized, he felt like he had been here a thousand times. He could see the tracks and the signs along the way and he knew them all, but he couldn’t remember where. The journey seemed to last forever, but he finally arrived at the entrance gate to his parents village.

Tas was so excited, but was careful to keep his breathing steady and pushed his thoughts back and exhaled, dropping back in.

Now he was with his mother in the kitchen, waiting for his father to finish cooking a fresh chicken. Come to think of it, he was famished, so he was happy to eat a bit of chicken with his parents in their small house. An eternity felt like a breath and Tas soon found himself at the hearth, sitting against his father’s chair, alone again in the dark night, the only light was flickering from the dying fire. He looked up at the stars as the ceiling dissolved; he felt himself falling and startled awake.

Tas woke up with a grin, his dream was a clear vision of his family and he could see all that they had been doing for the day. He sat for a moment, enjoying his own success. The night before, he had aligned himself with Jupiter, and because of the full moon, he was able to use the full extent of Jupiter’s power to see his family. Paj taught him this trick, though it could only be done on the full moon and only when Jupiter was high in the sky. Tas felt very satisfied as he woke to dress for the day, not to mention his peace of mind at being able to see his mother and father happily moving homes because of the success of the harvest in the past few months.

Paj and Tas made incredible progress in their nightly sessions, sometimes talking and reading and practicing certain meditations far into the morning. Tas had completely memorized the movement of the planets and their visible satellites in the sky with the telescope. They had bowls and cups of metal to make sounds to induce meditation and Tas had deepened his ability to perceive the his world. The moon’s cycles were becoming more and more familiar to Tas, but the moon’s powers were ever elusive and Paj was slow to teach him anything truly significant. Last week was the first exception, Paj told Tas that the full moon granted a sight while sleeping. Combined with Jupiter’s ability to travel outside of the body, it made for a powerful combination for dreamwalking, as he called it. Tas spent the night facing the direction of Jupiter in the Northwest and Paj hesitantly used the alloy synced with Jupiter’s frequencies. And he had succeeded.

Tas tested it by passively meditating into sleep, as Paj had instructed, then found himself awake in the dream. He continued to smile as he washed, groomed, and dressed himself, preparing for his morning meditations. He joined the sea of monks again, as he did every morning and after the morning’s invocation, went down to the forest to meet Shu and continue. Each day was a little different, the powerful meditations seemed to come in waves. Some days were torturous, but made him feel so great afterwards, some where easy, but made the rest of the day difficult. He had grown frustrated in the first weeks, but now he had stopped caring. Tas just tried not to think about it and it seemed to be working out so far.

He was keen to continue exploring his mind in the energy of the circle of monks. He had come to realize that there was something special about the trees, or perhaps the ground that allowed them to meditate for so long. He asked Shu a few days ago and he only responded that there was indeed something special about it, but he didn’t know what.

Shu had begun to meditate with Tas, teaching him techniques to still his breathing and slow his heart. Tas could feel so much, Shu said constantly, “you must become more sensitive. Only when you become more sensitive, more detached and able to feel your senses will you be free of their grasp. Then you will be free to feel as the true you wishes.”

Tas knew there was more than this from Yao, but he was sure that Shu was also correct in his teaching. Tas was starting to feel a nothingness, a sensation of pure bliss in his meditation, but he could only caught small glimpses of it. It was similar to how he felt with Yao, but less potent. He often remembered the night where he was starving and forced to wait and felt a sea of immeasurable pleasure and himself floating inside of its immensely overwhelming nothingness.

He spent a couple of hours in pure silence, scanning his thoughts and letting go of the night before; after he went to lunch and enjoyed his time alone. He asked for two extra servings, much to the dismay of the cook, but he needed the food. His stomach was rumbling for the past few days and he had already ignored it for too long. The meditations and lessons were exhausting.

After he finished his third bowl of rice soup, he took a few breaths and began to walk upstairs to the tower.

As he walked through the heavy, wooden door, Tas could tell that things were arranged differently than usual. Immediately he asked himself what the old man could be up to, until his shoulder was grabbed forcefully and he was turned to face Paj; the old man’s eyes were lined with fatigue.

“Last night, you prepared to travel with Jupiter, didn’t you?” Paj asked impatiently, his eyes never leaving Tas’. He already knew.

“Yes, I went to see my family.” Tas turned his eyes down to the floor.

“it was…” he sighed, returning to his mother’s laugh and his father’s confident grin.

“powerful and..” he looked up again to see Paj’s eyes reflecting his own.

“reassuring.” he said the last work slowly, letting it sink in so he could hear it himself. His family was healthy and happy.

Paj smiled suddenly, Tas could tell that he was not happy when he walked into the room. “Good, I am glad that your family is safe. Have you experienced any side effects?”

“I don’t think so…” Tas said slowly, trying to think back.

“Good. You would know.” Paj changed his manner and his brow darkened, a contrast to his white beard. “But there is something of a larger scale that is happening. The stars reflect a chaos surfacing in the West. Something is returning that is very, very old, and more powerful than you want to know.” Paj’s eyes glared and he slowed as he said them, obviously thinking back to another time. Tas was patient, but he already had so many questions.

“What is it?” Tas asked, hesitant to ask a question at all.

“Well, straight to the point aren’t we? Let’s find out.” Paj said, his gaze icy and cold, resigned, hardened. Tas felt his body begin to tremble in anticipation, he learnt of great sages who shared dreams in the manuals, but hadn’t even seen mention of techniques. Was he about to do this with Paj? He was sure that the ancient techniques were far advanced to his own elementary knowledge; at least for now.

Paj began to scuffled around, grabbing particular bowls and preparing tea for Tas with ginger, hibiscus, eucalyptus, and rosemary. “We will align with the moon again tonight, there is still small remaining power for sight. The tea will augment that power and…” he paused for long enough to look at Tas very seriously, one eyebrow rose as he finished, “will greatly enhance our sensitivity.”

Tas knew what this meant. The dream would be powerful; more powerful than anything he had ever experienced. But he was ready, his mind was empty and he was not scared.

“We will align our minds with Saturn’s rings, using the silver and iron alloyed bowls. Jupiter will also be in the sky, so we can share with Saturn’s energies and travel with Jupiter’s. and…” now he paused for a moment.

“we will smoke this.” He held up a small paper full of tobacco, some greenweed, and some other black substance that Tas didn’t know. But Tas was ready; he knew that this would be another step towards his ultimate goal and he wasn’t worried; Paj wouldn’t lead him astray.

He drank the tea, slowly, meditating as he did, saying nothing and letting Paj use the signing bowls. They both began to smoke the small rolled joint. Paj instructed Tas to inhale, but after the first one, he couldn’t stop coughing. Each time afterwords, he still coughed, but a bit less. Paj continued to play the bowls and Tas could feel himself fading into sleep; he could do nothing to stop it. Paj continued to play the bowls and create the vibrations, but was now sitting in his chair and Tas could tell that he was dozing off as well. Tas could feel himself leaving his body in the depths of the vibrations, the huge sea of vast nothingness was returning. Tas sat back on his mat in the room, faced towards Saturn and fell deeply into a sleeping meditation, where he couldn’t tell if he was awake, or asleep, until he finally succumbed to the dark of his mind.

The Wanderer, Part 13 Read More »

The Wanderer, Part 9

2 Comments / art, philosophy, Wanderer Series, Writing, yoga philosophy

Please read the first parts of the story here:
The Wanderer, Part 1
The Wanderer, Part 2
The Wanderer, Part 3
The Wanderer, Part 4
The Wanderer, Part 5
The Wanderer, Part 6
The Wanderer, Part 7
The Wanderer, Part 8

Tas woke in a cold sweat. He could hear a rustling in the bushes near him and started until he saw that it was only the old man, his rescuer from the night before. He still felt the euphoria from the night before, his vision seemed to be more defined and even his body did not hurt so bad as the day before. In fact, he felt fresh and renewed, even from his injuries.

He got up quite easily, gently nursing his bruised back and ribs and he rose and remembered the crushing blow from four days easier. The old man was already continuing along the road they were following north, though Tas had no idea where they were going. After a bit, Tas thought he might try his luck with some questions.

“You killed them all?” Tas asked, remember the vicious assault the old man had inflicted upon the village the night before.

“No,” the old man said somberly. “Just the ones who fought back.” He seemed to brighten up as he said it.

“Thank you. I would have…”

“I know.” The old man said quickly. “They were a wicked group, this one. They have killed many travelers before you. I brought what was coming to them.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“The stars told me,” the old man said mystically, looking up at the forest canopy. His walking stick seemed to have changed, though Tas hadn’t even really noticed it before. It was a bit shorter, and the man’s back seemed a bit more crooked.

“You can really read the stars like that? To see what is happening in the world?” Tas asked in an innocent tone?

The old man nodded. “I see the now. The stars assist me in this.”

Tas didn’t completely understand. But he could tell that the old man wouldn’t talk more about it, so he moved on.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Tas had never seen anyone move in such a fashion, like a wild animal with complete control, perfect precision. He could still see the silhouette dodging multiple spears and connecting a spear to neck after neck, two heads fell at a time.

“I was born to be a warrior.” The old man said. He stopped walking now. He looked around for a moment, as if looking for something specific, then began to walk towards the side of the road they were following. He found a couple of nice sitting rocks and mentioned to Tas to have a seat. He took out some salted peas that turned out to be tremendously tasty, especially since Tas hadn’t eaten much since he left the village.

They spent a minute eating, before the old man began to speak again.

“Kid, you can’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you. But it’s time you learned who I am.” Tas nodded in agreement; he wouldn’t tell a soul.

“My name is Yao, I am from the far north, high in the mountains. That is where I learned to fight,” He looked at Tas with a grin as he said it. Tas had never seen the mountains and the old man seemed to know it.

“I was born to be a Jarakanda, a hunter and defender of my village. It was a childhood of strife and training; my only thoughts were to be as strong as I could possibly be. I learned to fight with my fists first, then my feet, then with other things. Swords, Staves, knives, rocks, all kinds of different weapons. Spears are one of my favorite,” his grinned turned menacing as he said it.

“My people traveled with the snow, we were people of the mountains and were efficient enough hunters and fishermen. I learned to read the sky and the weather from them, as well as all types of hunting, gathering, and fighting. But when I turned into a man, my father was killed by the chieftain for adultery on my mother. I left my village in shame, to take up the life of a monk in a monastery to the south. I gave up my arms and hunting to live a life in solidarity and to undo the karma of my father’s treachery. He was beheaded.” The entire story seemed to have no emotion behind it, like he was telling it from another person’s point of view.

“So you were born to be a warrior?”

“Not just a warrior. Jakaranda’s are renowned for being the most vicious opponents, elite hunter-warriors. Especially against multiple targets. We practice hunting and preying on groups of deer at a time in the mountains, to minimize our time outside during the harsher storms of winter. Once you can kill three deer within 20 seconds, you can kill as many men as you need to,” the old man said with a chortle.

He seemed to be entertaining questions, so Tas pushed further, “What happened when you left for the monastery? What happened to your father?”

“Well, he was given a trial, Jakaranda’s are held to extremely strict standards. When he was convicted, the chieftain took his head. I was forced to watch with my mother and brother, in shame.” He didn’t look shameful though. Tas thought that maybe the old man had cleansed his karma or something along those lines. No, he was sure of it. There was still no emotion in his voice, despite talking about witnessing the death of his father. Tas’ respect for his teacher seemed to grow each time he learned more about the stooped old man. To watch one’s own father die shamefully must be the worst of punishments, Tas thought to himself.

“I left for the monastery and pursued god, or holiness, or purity, or whatever you want to call it.” He looked directly at Tas now, “Just like you, I wanted to find answers to my questions and I left everything behind to do it.”

Tas digested his words for a minute, then responded, “What did you find?” He had to know what happened next, surely the monastery would have answers.

“That is a story for you to learn for yourself.” When Tas began to ask a question in response, the old man continued, “We will arrive there within a week. You’ll see it for yourself. Now, it is time to walk.”

Tas got up, but still had one last question. “Can I call you Yao, master?”

The old man laughed heartily for a few moments before responding, “You can call me Yao, but I prefer Yejo. It was my father’s nickname.” Suddenly he became extremely serious. “But don’t ever call me master.” The smile had left his face completely.

Tas smiled as the old man turned from him to continue walking north. Even though he seemed to have gotten some answers, they had only sparked more questions about the old man. Where were they going? What he did mean by saying that god and purity and holiness were the same thing? He sighed and continued walking, happy to know that the man he was following was as full of surprises as the jungle itself.

The Wanderer, Part 9 Read More »

The Wanderer, Part 8

3 Comments / Daoism, detachment, philosophy, storytelling, Uncategorized, Wanderer Series, Writing

Please read the first parts of the story here:
The Wanderer, Part 1
The Wanderer, Part 2
The Wanderer, Part 3
The Wanderer, Part 4
The Wanderer, Part 5
The Wanderer, Part 6
The Wanderer, Part 7

Tas rolled over; his pain returned in full force. His head was throbbing and his mind was lost. He opened his eyes sometimes, but would shut them immediately because of the throbbing pain shooting from the side of his head. In the depths of his agony, he could see the smile of the man with the razor teeth grinning in between bursts of pain from his spine and head. His body was useless.

For two-days, he simply sat and recovered in a small hut, the village women brought him food and water and they arranged for a few new cloths for him to wear. Occasionally, they would bring him a coconut and it seemed to make everything feel a bit better.

He didn’t leave the small space that was allotted to him; he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to. The pain in his head was overwhelming.

Tas was happy to eat and drink his fill after a few days of nearly starving in the jungle. The women brought him bowls of rice and noodles and vegetables and some fruit to match. But their tea was absolutely intoxicating, Tas must have had 6 full cups throughout the day. He also had a bowl of soup each night for dinner, which was a delightful mix of squash and lentils. He slept on a soft fur that one of the women had given to him and as he recovered, he couldn’t help but feel very lucky to be where he was.

On the third day he woke with his spine still in pain, but his head felt better. It was still a bit hard to breath because his ribs were bruised, but he could stand without too much pain. There was still a dull throbbing, but he soon found himself stretching his spine. It was painful at first, but as he warmed his body slightly, the tension faded. He was still very sore, but he was ready to be out and about.

He walked out of his little hut and immediately was surrounded by people. The villagers acted like they had never seen an outsider before and their eyes were on him everywhere he walked. He was pulled this way and that by a small crowd of children, until one of the women shoo’ed them away. Her body was tattooed, but her face was relatively free from ornamentation.

She took him by the arm to an older man; on his head was a crown of feathers and carved wood and his face was painted to look very important, red bolts of lightning on his cheeks and vertical lines of white on his forehead. His eyes didn’t leave Tas as the boy approached. He seemed to look at him like the old wandering man did, piercing through his skin to something deeper. Only this man had spear surrounding his chair, long knives and arrows laced the background menacingly.

The old man looked at Tas for a moment, then called him closer. The woman pushed Tas so that the older man could examine him. He spent several long minutes examining Tas’ skin, then his head, then his ribs and spine. He looked at Tas in the eyes and seemed to have decided something. He called out in a loud voice to the entire villages and they roared and applauded as one in response. Tas wasn’t sure what was happening, but the entire village seemed to come alive at the old man’s words. The men began to organize to leave, grabbing weapons and painting each other with face paint. The women began to prepare food, Tas began to hear them chatter and heard sizzling in the background and could smell their fires being lit. In 20 seconds, the entire village had roared to life.

The woman took Tas back to his tent, where he remembered his throbbing head again. The pain had come back, though not as strong as the day before. He spent the rest of the day resting and listening to the village prepare, but had no idea what for.

When the shadows of the afternoon became longer, Tas was yelled at to come outside by the woman who was tending to him. He couldn’t quite figure out what they were saying at first, but once he had left his hut, three women grabbed him and pulled him towards a fire that was roaring in the center of the village. The men had returned with various game, a few chickens, but most notably a boar that was being skinned by the vicious man who had struck Tas. He felt his blood boil as he watched the man tearing through the boar’s flesh with his knife.

The women led him to a seat beside the old man, then began to feed him. All kinds of drinks and different vegetables were placed before him and he couldn’t help but devour them. He had never eaten so well as the past few days, but this was different. He felt like a king with servants that were continually arranging his food for him to eat, bringing new dishes until he couldn’t eat anymore. Once he was done, he realized that the entire village was waiting for him to finish.

Something was very wrong here, Tas thought to himself. The words from the villainous man days before rung in his ears ‘no friends here’. He couldn’t help but feel that this was not in his honor, but for something else entirely, but he had no idea what.

After everyone had finished eating, the sun began to set. The men began to pull out pipes and pass them between each other, before passing them to the women and even some of the older children. Tas had smelled tobacco before, but this was different, a skunkier smell. He felt a bit disoriented after a while and could tell that the smoke was strong. The villager’s eyes turned a dark red as they digested and smoked. Finally, Tas was offered a pipe, but after one pull found himself coughing uncontrollably. He felt a strange peace begin to settle over him and he almost felt as he had with the old man in the last days in the desert. He thought back grimly at the old man’s final prank.

The men began to scuffle about and soon a big wooden bowl that was cured for fire was brought into the center of the fire. The old man rose from his chair to the silence of the village and began to put ingredients into the bowl, some that Tas could see, some that he couldn’t. He could make out various roots and leaves and other plants of various sizes and shapes. He added some dark green and black liquid into the mix and set it over the fire.

A few minutes later, when the sun was just setting down on the horizon, Tas was led to the bowl. He was given a ladle and told to drink and he did. It was a nasty taste, but they gave him a bit of fruit afterwards. The old man drank longly from the bowl, as if relishing the taste, which Tas found unbelievable. It tasted like a mix of cow dung and overcooked vegetables.

Once the old man was done, the other men in the tribe took smaller portions of the strange liquid then the remains were passed to the women and finally, a few of the eldest children.

Tas returned to his seat and after a time, began to feel very weird. He started to see lights that couldn’t be there and the whole world seemed to come more alive. He couldn’t stop staring at the stars and the setting sun and felt his entire being start to melt away. The entire world melted away and all he could feel was the nothingness inside of himself, a void that grew larger and larger until it was overwhelming and he felt a burst of light come forth from his chest and illuminate the entire village. He saw his mother and sisters dancing at their own village fire and felt an intense longing, time seemed to pass so slowly. He opened his eyes to look at the stars again and found himself floating amongst them, a light inside of him was burning bright. He felt as if the stars were his brothers, though he had forgotten them. His vision became more and more in control and suddenly, he re-realized where he was. The old man was right beside him and he seemed to be inoculated, looking up at the sky with closed eyes.

Suddenly, seemingly in response to Tas’ gaze, the old man looked over at Tas and yelled loudly, so the entire village erupted. He took Tas by the arm and then slapped him to the floor. Pain flared in Tas, though it seemed to be distant in a way. He could still see the old man in perfect detail, his skin seemed to hang like a bag around his body and it swirled and magnified as he stared. He was brought to his feet again, and was bound to a tall pole. Tas finally knew that this was a tribe of the sort that were in children’s stories in his village. He knew immediately that these men planned to eat him. As if in response to his thoughts, the grim man who had injured him before came to the fire, licking his lips. Tas began to struggle, but it was too late.

They brought him to the fire and he knew it was over. He thought back to the old man and wondered how he could have gotten so lost. He walked slowly with the men surrounding him until they dropped him with a yell, close to the fire. Tas fell on his face, but could hear the cries of the villagers, screaming. Hell itself seemed to break loose from the lips of the women..

Tas tried to roll over, but couldn’t and found a rock to untie his hands from the pole. As he finally was able to look up, he saw a flash of darkness moving against the fire, seeming to dance with its flames. He finally broke the bindings of his hands and used them to raise his head to see what was happening.

A group of villagers were backed up against one of the larger huts, one shorter looking man with a large spear threatened them. Tas would have found this comical in any other situation, but the villagers seemed terrified. He smelt burning flesh and turned to the fire to see the body of a headless man singing in the flames. He looked on the floor to see more bodies, at least a dozen men, most of the them dead. The rest would be within minutes because of their wounds. Gashes, cuts, and blood decorated their bodies, giving signs of the battle that was continuing now.

The fire just barely illuminated the short attacker, who seemed to fly through the villagers while tearing through their flesh. The cries of the villagers grew less and less until only a dark silence remained. The fire was growing softer and Tas was still having visions of his family, of the old man, and of the stars and the life around him. But this was interrupted by his thoughts of the attacker that he watched flow like a swan with his movement. Who was this godly man who could kill a dozen ferocious villagers at once?

As if on cue, the attacker approached Tas and to Tas’ surprise, gently untied his feet from the pole and sat him up to look at him. When Tas could finally see the man’s face, he gasped.

It was the old man from the desert. He seemed to know that Tas was out of his mind and left him for the time being, but Tas sputtered and tried to speak to no avail. He was amongst the stars now, feeling the eternal energies of the cosmos flowing through him as a stream through a valley. He wondered if the old man was a hallucination and if perhaps he was dead. What a curious thing, life. Tas thought to himself.

He came back down for a moment to see the old man again, whose gaze hadn’t left Tas’ face. He helped Tas to his feet and brought him to a nice place to sleep. Tas cried the whole way, not knowing if he was alive or dead, but knew that this man, who had saved his life and viciously slaughtered 20 men in the process was a part of god. He felt it as strongly as he had ever felt anything in his life. As the visions began to fade, so Tas faded into sleep, the world forgotten and blackness overtook him.

The Wanderer, Part 8 Read More »

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