Pilgrim, p.15
Pilgrim, page 15
Danzen waited with bated breath, ready to engage the man if he had to.
What he didn’t expect was for the back door to swing open and for their oldest boy, Erdene, to come out with his crossbow drawn.
The boy gasped as he took in the carnage, Harsha with the arrow sticking out from the side of his face, Osul with his throat ripped apart by a sword. Erdene quickly dropped his crossbow, which triggered the weapon, the arrow firing into the air at a random direction.
“Argh!”
A sound to Danzen’s immediate left caught his attention, and before he could truly consider the fact that the boy’s poor handling of the crossbow had somehow managed to hit Nayaga, he was already running in Erdene’s direction.
Danzen tackled the youth.
An arrow passed over them and cut into the tops of his robes, Danzen immediately placing his hand on his back as he hit the ground, Erdene beneath him.
He didn’t feel blood, nor did he notice the sensation of his demons being unleashed.
Shielding Erdene with his back, Danzen quickly ran the boy to the back door and shoved him inside, hissing for him to go back to the basement.
Danzen swiped his sword to the right just in time to avoid yet another arrow.
Jumping up, he pulled himself to the roof again and took off in the direction of the disturbance.
He caught Nayaga scrambling away, Danzen just about to throw a sword at him when he paused, taking cover behind a raised window as another arrow nearly got him.
If he used his sword and somehow missed, Nayaga would know for certain who he was.
Right now, he was just someone protecting the house. A skilled fighter, to be sure, but Nayaga hopefully didn’t yet know enough about his enemy to come to the conclusion that it was indeed Danzen Ravja.
His heart thumping in his chest, Danzen waited for another arrow to come, and when one didn’t come he peeked his head out, Astra drawn and ready to go.
Nothing.
Danzen remained still, his eyes darting left and right as he tracked the rooftops looking for some sign of Nayaga.
If the assassin was smart, he would get the hell out of Suja Village. He had already lost two men, and it was clear that a far superior warrior was now protecting the chicken.
But obstinacy was something that defined many assassins, Danzen not knowing Nayaga well enough to know where the man fell on the spectrum.
So he waited.
And after thirty or forty minutes had passed, Danzen quickly dropped to the ground. He leaped over a fence and returned to the family’s yard, seeking cover immediately behind a clothesline.
He waited another thirty minutes for Nayaga to strike.
Again, nothing.
As quietly as possible, Danzen quietly returned to the roof, and snuck over to the home next door.
Just as he had expected, he discovered a small puddle of blood, another few drops pointing him in the direction of the First District, which would be the quickest exit.
By Sunyata, Erdene’s misfiring had actually connected with Nayaga.
It didn’t seem like it was a very deep wound, but it was likely one of the reasons the assassin had left.
Once he was sure he was clear again, he returned to the family’s backyard. As he had promised Temur he would do, Danzen dragged Osul’s body into the shed and wrapped it in a carpet.
Before completely rolling him up, he checked the man’s pockets, finding some coins and a relatively nice dagger at his belt. He took the dagger and the coins, Danzen pausing before exiting the shed.
Even though he was certain Nayaga was gone, he knew it was better to test things just to be sure.
He found a wooden bowl in the back corner of the shed, one that would have been used to feed livestock, and used his sword to suspend it in the air.
Danzen slowly pressed this out of the shed, testing several times to see if Nayaga would take the bait.
When no arrows came, he quickly grabbed Harsha’s body and dragged it into the shed as well.
He broke the arrow off that was still sticking out of the man’s head and discarded the fletching. As he had done with Osul, Danzen wrapped Harsha up in a carpet, once again checking his pockets and finding a few coins.
From there, Danzen sat in the straw on the other side of the shed, his eyes on the entrance, the wooden bowl near him so he could test his surroundings every thirty minutes or so.
Danzen sat cross-legged as he waited, his sword in his lap. He didn’t think about the fact that he was sitting in a shed with two dead bodies and a fire-breathing chicken, waiting for morning to come so he could return to his monastery to get back to work.
He didn’t think about anything.
He merely waited for dawn, hoping the next day would pass quickly so he could get some much-needed rest.
Danzen was just starting to fall asleep when the chicken started clucking, its clucking turning into a quick flapping of its wings, a deafening sound waking him from his reverie.
He looked up to see Temur standing at the entrance of the shed, the man with a grave expression on his face as he saw the two carpets that had been rolled up and set neatly against one another.
“I got two of them,” Danzen told him, pressing his mask to the top of the skull.
“And the third?”
He shook his head. “Something tells me he won’t be coming back here. Not for you, anyway.”
****
After breakfast that consisted of hard rolls and steamed vegetables, Danzen and Temur loaded the carpets into the back of a cart affixed to a black mule with a patch of white on its forehead. Temur placed the chicken in as well, covering its cage with a quilted blanket.
“You said you would take him as a reward,” Temur reminded Danzen. He took one look at the agitated look on Danzen’s face and laughed. “Come on, you’ll have more use for the chicken than we will. She can lay eggs for you. Or you can kill it and eat it. I don’t care; I just want it away from here.”
Danzen nodded.
“Where are we taking the bodies anyway?” Temur asked, his voice lowering.
His wife stood on the front porch, watching them almost scornfully, her arms crossed over her chest.
Danzen could see the three boys peering out of one of the windows on the second floor of the home, their heads stacked on top of one another. He never told Temur about Erdene’s involvement in the previous night's affairs, Danzen hoping that the boy learned his lesson. And the way he made eye contact with the boy now told him that he would keep this a secret.
“Well?” Temur asked.
“Sky burial. We’ll take the chicken to the monastery, and move on from there.”
Temur grunted. “Then we better get started.”
The two men headed out of the village, Temur’s donkey pulling the cart with the chicken and the bodies in it. A couple villagers tried to stop and talk to Temur, but he pressed on, simply waving at them in an agitated way and letting them know that he had a job to get to.
The stocky man relaxed somewhat as they reached the outskirts of the Third District, Danzen all but ignoring his nervousness as he took in the strangely foreboding day.
A low mist sat over some of the fields between the village and his monastery, the air fresh and crisp, the ground just a bit moist. It hadn’t rained last night, but the mist had softened the soil, Danzen glad that they hadn’t overpacked the cart once he noticed the wheels lightly cutting into the dirt.
Danzen and Temur stopped at the base of the monastery and climbed the hill, where they found Khamdo the carpenter already working. He didn’t notice their arrival until Temur placed the cage on the ground, the chicken flapping her wings a few times and creating a thundering boom.
“Whew, it’s just you,” Khamdo said, the man nearly dropping his mallet on his foot. “I went ahead and started up, if you don’t mind. We need to put a lock on your door.”
“Was something stolen?” Danzen asked as he took a look at his monastery, from the two lion statues out front to the holes they had recently patched in the outer walls.
“No, it’s just too easy to get inside. Once this place is patched up, who knows? You may have a little furniture or something you want to protect. Anyway, I’ll bring a lock tomorrow and get it set up.” Khamdo’s eyes fell upon the cage, which was still covered by a blanket. “And that’s your chicken?” he asked Temur.
“It's his now.”
“I think…” Khamdo considered this for a moment. “Yeah, that will work. There’s that space in the back that is partially fenced in, right there in front of the well. I could finish that out and build you a coop for the thing so it doesn't run off.”
Danzen nodded. “I would appreciate that.”
“Are those carpets for the monastery too?” Khamdo asked, peering down the hill.
“No, we have something else we need to do with those,” said the former assassin.
Khamdo looked like he was about to ask a question, but didn’t. “I guess I should get started then.”
“About the chicken,” Temur started to tell him. “It spits fire, but the fire isn’t actually harmful.”
“You didn’t tell me that part…”
Temur removed the covering and the chicken responded with a burst of flames, Khamdo jumping back.
“Sunyata’s tears!” Khamdo cried, nearly dropping his mallet again.
“It’s harmless.” To demonstrate what he meant, Temur waved his hand through the fire.
“And the sound?”
“That would be the wings.” Temur lifted the cage and shook it, the chicken responding by flapping its wings, Danzen wincing at the increasingly familiar noise.
“Anyway, we won’t be long. I’d suggest leaving it covered until we get back.” Temur let the blanket fall over the sides of the cage, the chicken quieting.
“Will do.”
Danzen and Temur returned to the cart carrying the two carpet-wrapped bodies. Once they reached the main road, they headed toward the start of the forest, in the direction of where Danzen had left Shunta to be picked away by the wildlife.
“Here,” Danzen said.
They grabbed the first body and made their way through the underbrush, the sound of animals moving away from them reaching Danzen’s ears.
He didn’t expect to encounter anything up here, but with a valley full of mythological creatures, his expectations and reality often didn’t match.
They unrolled the first carpet, revealing the body of the man known as Osul.
“I can’t…” Temur said, his hand coming to his mouth.
“Just help me carry them here, and I will take care of the rest,” Danzen told him.
Temur stepped away and Danzen finished setting up Osul’s body, using the tip of his blade to cut away much of the man’s clothing. He loosened his shoelaces and revealed his feet, Danzen glad that the east wasn’t like the west.
Had someone come across a body, or even the signs of the body in a forest in the west, there would be investigations.
But the Asura Forest was too thick, and most people didn’t venture off the main path for fear of yokai.
The two retrieved the second body, the one that belonged to Harsha, and took it to a different section of the forest, where Temur stepped away again and Danzen went about preparing the sky burial.
“What about the carpets?” Danzen asked, as he returned to the cart.
“I saw a fire pit at your place,” said Temur, his face slightly pale.
Danzen nodded. “Then it’s settled.”
Part Four
.Chapter One.
In the span of a week, Danzen and Khamdo were able to get the main room and roof of the monastery patched up, the floor fixed so grass was no longer growing out of cracks in the stone. They even managed to turn the space that had once been the Abbot's bedroom into a place where Danzen could actually rest.
He didn’t have a bed yet, but as soon as he got more kip, he planned to buy one.
With the money he still had, Danzen had focused on the kitchen, which still needed some work, but at least the stove was up and running and there was ample room to prepare food. Khamdo had built a shelf as well for additional provisions, the carpenter able to add a sliding door in front of it so the kitchen could be sealed off.
It certainly wasn’t a modern accommodation, but it was getting better.
Danzen was now able to see at night with the lanterns that they’d placed in the main prayer room and the one he kept in his bedroom. Wind no longer whistled through cracks in the wall, water no longer dripped through holes in the ceiling, and the monastery was starting to feel downright cozy, like someone lived in it, like it was an actual home.
Danzen and the fire chicken, whom he had named Basan after her yokai name, had also come to somewhat of an understanding. He would feed the chicken and keep her safe, not bothering her in the meantime, and she would produce a daily egg for him.
Khamdo had built Basan a coop to stay in, and she seemed happy enough.
“Basan,” Danzen said one morning on his way to get water from the well.
The chicken spat a bit of fire as a greeting, Danzen shaking his head as he moved back inside. He brought the water to a boil, assuming that Khamdo would arrive sooner rather than later.
The plan was to finish a new outhouse that they had started at the back of the monastery, not far from the location of the old one.
Khamdo had decided that the previous one needed to be condemned, the wood molded and rotten, the space inside entirely uncomfortable.
The new outhouse, which they would finish today, was a little more spacious. It would have a deeper pit beneath it as well.
As he had done the last eight days in a row, Khamdo arrived with a couple meat pies for Danzen, the carpenter holding his metal canteen out to Danzen so he could fill it with hot water.
“Thank you,” Danzen told him as he took the food.
“Don’t thank me, thank my wife,” said Khamdo. “She insists that I bring you one every morning. We’re going to fatten you up yet.”
“It’s appreciated.”
“How’s the chicken?” Khamdo asked as they made their way over to the new outhouse.
Danzen had started the hole yesterday while Khamdo worked on the outer structure. The shovel was already there, ready to go, both men well aware of what they needed to do to complete their task.
“She has been quieter at night, which is a good thing.”
“And she’s laying eggs?”
Danzen nodded.
“Good to hear.”
The two men worked in silence after that, Khamdo never asking much about Danzen’s reasoning for coming to Genshin Valley. His demeanor was unlike that of Temur’s, who had helped on the roof for a couple days free of charge.
There was always a point during their work that Temur got curious and started asking questions. Danzen’s lip would tighten, and that would be the end of it.
Noon came and the two men ate lunch, Danzen going for one of the meat pies that Khamdo’s wife had prepared for him, the carpenter eating a bread roll with vegetables baked into it. It wasn’t long after that they finally began setting up the structure of the outhouse, Khamdo putting on the final pieces while Danzen held them in place.
The day, which had started off a little misty, had since become pleasant, butterflies in the air, birds chirping, the sweet smell of pollinating plants all around them.
“She’s all yours,” Khamdo said, knocking on the side of the outhouse.
Danzen offered him a rare grin. “Thanks.”
“I have some things I have to do tomorrow, but I’ll see you in a day or two,” Khamdo told him after they’d finished gathering his supplies and placing the ones that they would use later inside the monastery.
They moved to the front, the sun slowly beginning to set, casting deep shadows over the ridges of Khamdo’s weather-beaten face.
“I appreciate your help,” Danzen told him. “I believe I will have money soon, once something comes up.”
“I’m sure you will, and like I said, your money’s no good to me. And regarding something coming up, oh yeah, there’s always something coming up. The yokai are well behaved over winter, but now that spring has officially made her debut…” The carpenter whistled. “Word will spread pretty quickly that you’re the kind of guy that knows what he’s doing.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m sure it will happen, Pilgrim. Stop by tomorrow if you come to town; you’re always welcome at our home.”
Khamdo bid farewell and Danzen returned to the kitchen of his monastery, where he prepared a simple soup made from a common root found in the valley.
He would need to venture out into public sooner rather than later, Danzen not only running low on funds and food supplies, but also feeling the desire to see other people.
He had noticed this about himself several times over the last two years, this feeling that he needed to be around others.
If he was able to, Danzen would go to a tavern and sit in the furthest corner he could, just listening to people and watching them. If there wasn’t a settlement around, he would meditate or lie down, thinking of some of the interactions he’d had in the past.
The problem with those thoughts was that they often spawned a sense of melancholy in him, Danzen feeling like he had missed out on large swaths of his life due to the nature of his job. They produced memories of Soko, the female assassin whom he had once cared for, the one he knew was now hunting him.
One thing he tried not to think about was all the people he had slain, and the repercussions of his actions. But generally, if he tried to cancel those thoughts out, they would only come back in force, which was exactly what happened to Danzen as he prepared to rest that evening.
As he lay on the floor in his room, he suddenly found himself back in Palmo’s courtyard, his last official kill, the man lying on the ground as the demons came.
Danzen had managed to rescue Palmo’s daughter, but he had since forgotten her name, only remembering her face, and how defiant she had looked in the end.
