Novels2Search
The New Resistance
4. Temple Visitor

4. Temple Visitor

4. Temple Visitor

Year 3046, northeastern Tracia.

The day had dawned cool and cloudy, with a tolerable cold that signaled the end of winter. A boy started meditating with the dawn to polish the circulation of his Qi while resting a katana on his lap. Dozens of monks were practicing vital arts in the Temple and the young man trained among them, serene and concentrated.

Northern Tracia was full of tundras and inhospitable highlands. A mountain range stretched tens of thousands of kilometers across the region. Only near the borders with Insubri and Dontos did the heat of the east make the altitude of the north more bearable.

To the northeast, established in the Qiavan Mountains, were these ancient Temples. A series of antique structures built of salt blocks and wood, maintained by monks of various traditions.

Grimshaw knew the maps as well as anyone but a week on the miserable mountain trail, unable to use a saddle, had shown him that maps were one thing, and terrain, quite another.

That morning as the monks were beginning activities he finally arrived at his destination. He made his way with heavy feet to the main temple, dropping his supplies and two-handed sword on the ground.

From outside, at the entrance, he heard part of a lesson being given to about ten children on the first floor.

"It was the use of Qi that allowed man to settle on the Continent.... Tracia, Dontos, Insubri, Ferales and Drakari would never have been the regions of the East if the beasts had not been exiled to the southern Beastlands" instructed an elder, his voice ceremonious and slow.

"The vital Arts you are going to learn here are basic ways of using Qi to help you on your future path... Let's start with the Art of Vital Path (lvl. 2), you need to develop the ability to circulate your Qi through different parts of your body" he added and began to guide them one by one.

Grimshaw waited patiently, observing the lesson, until a monk coming down the stairs from a second floor came to greet him.

"Grimshaw, is that really you?" he asked greeting him with a grin from ear to ear. Dressed in a plain brown robe, his black hair was still as untouched as in his younger years. Not only did he not shave his head like the other monks, but he sported enviable hair.

"My friend, time has passed," he responded to his former companion by giving him a tight hug.

"I see your birds are still as active as you, the monk habits did not replace the spy ones" he joked amused. Transiting the trail, he came across birds monitoring the surroundings on several occasions.

"The calm of this place slows the aging of the body. Come, let's go to one of the residences" he said cheerfully motioning for him to take his belongings. He then led him along a path around the main Temple.

In a semicircle behind the temple, there were small wooden huts that bordered the mountain and served as dormitories for the monks.

He accompanied the traveler through flower-covered gardens until he reached one that was empty and with a brief farewell, without asking him the reason for his visit, he departed and let him rest.

After midday the mercenary left the residence with lighter steps. Wearing black thread clothes and the dark cloak of the MOC, the giant sword stood out as always on his back.

On his way to the main temple to converse with Quentino he passed monks wearing robes of various colors. Most were meditating, others were training some vital Art in the gardens. But in the distance, at the entrance to what appeared to be a dirt path, someone caught his attention.

He stood at the side of the path, in front of some oak trees with small shoots of leaves. Under their shade, he watched with wide eyes as a young man practiced a series of movements with his katana.

Up, down, block, upward slash, thrust, block, downward slash... the fluidity and mastery he had of the weapon did not match his age. The boy looked less than twenty years old, he was barefoot with his torso exposed and wearing dark green baggy pants.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Leira was trying to combine some basic katana movements when Grimshaw appeared at the side of the road. Seeing that he was still being watched after a while, he stopped his practice and nodded to the stranger.

"Not bad kid, it's rare for a monk having that level of katana mastery" Grimshaw acknowledged emotionlessly crossing his arms.

"Thank you, I'm simply following a pro --- cess" he replied haltingly at the last word. He then shot Grimshaw a questioning look before resuming his practice again and ignoring him.

«Now this is interesting. Is he an Elite?» thought Grimshaw continuing down the path. Seeing the monk's exquisite technique he decided to test his mental fortitude with Qi . The young man regained his composure at once. Undoubtedly, he was one of the talents of these temples.

Arriving at the Temple he contemplated for the first time how mystical the construction was, geometric figures that he did not distinguish were carved on the salt walls and the doors with their wooden ornamentations illustrated legendary beasts and dragons.

As he passed through the entrance he found some old and bald monks meditating on the wooden floor in front of some altars with sculptures. The light inside was dim and the atmosphere was saturated with the aromas of herbs and flowers. At the side of the central hall he saw the staircase leading to the second floor and climbed up.

The second floor served as an archive and reading area, housed thousands of books in careful conditions of light and humidity so that they would not deteriorate. As Grimshaw went upstairs he saw Quentino reading near a window.

"Some things never change. Your passion for reading always struck me as admirable" he commented as he approached.

"It is my greatest pleasure, if I didn't read so much I might have been an Elite in our youth" he replied as his long fingers gently closed the book.

"I have not told you yet why after so many years I have come to see you Quentino" he stated solemnly placing a hand on the monk's shoulder.

"I suspect it has to do with Cyderall, the news of his expansion is increasingly worrying for the border areas in Tracia" commented the monk running his hand through his hair. "What I don't understand is why..." he started to say but before he finished Grimshaw interrupted him.

"A year ago, in Libury, Emma was cornered by two captains and is missing. I haven't been able to find out what happened to her... Anyway, I don't want to keep looking the other way while Cyderall swallows up our region" he stated holding his friend's gaze.

Quentino was silent for a few moments as he stroked his chin and looked at the colossal blue-hilted giant sword his friend was carrying. One could clearly see the ripples on the inside of the steel, more than a hundred times the metal was folded back on itself in the forge. It was undeniable that it possessed a beauty all its own, made by a blacksmith who worked metal with both his elemental Art of fire and hammers.

"Since that day, more than fifteen years ago, that bastard sword has been with you, it's about time you used it against Cyderall" he mused showing his teeth. " I hope Emma is safe, don´t you forget Grimshaw how strong and resourceful she can be" he added.

Quentino was an informant for the Resistance, his role consisted of investigating and transmitting key pieces of information through his birds. Despite having found his vocation in the Temple he maintained contact with several former comrades in the cause unlike Grimshaw.

"Thank you, I really don't know where to start.... This last year I traveled from Kuiland to here without being able to contact the Free People`s Alliance" he admitted thundering the knuckles of his hands. "You're the only one who maintained a location and has resources."

"No wonder. The situation is dire for the Alliance, they have in control only three major cities in eastern Insubri and can only limit themselves to defending them" Quentino explained in dismay.

The more they talked the more puzzled Grimshaw became. It turned out that there was currently no group that was facing Cyderall's expansion. The Cruma family was not going to deploy their terracottas until Cyderall made the first move. The old resistance was history, only isolated individuals like Emma were left to be hunted down and killed. The Alliance, powerless, was cornered.

They left the Temple towards the residences accompanied by the setting sun. Grimshaw remained silent on the way, burdened with inner disquiet and regret.

"Don't let the current situation affect you, none of us are responsible" Quentino encouraged him. "Come with me, I want to introduce you to someone and, perhaps, ask you a favor." He led him off the path and turned left where some suspiciously familiar oak trees stood.

They walked along the dirt path ducking through trees and bushes until they came to a hut on the edge of a cliff. There, on top of a huge grayish stone, adorned with thousands of gashes and cuts of varying depths, sat the young man from before.

"Leira this is the man I told you about" Quentino communicated as he arrived. "If the information I was given is correct, he is the right person to help us."

The young man's eyes were so dark brown, they passed for black. Like Quentino he was not bald and tied his hair in a bun using some apacho sticks. Hearing what the other monk said he gave Grimshaw a defiant look, nodded and remained silent.

"What am I missing Quentino.... You haven't mistaken me as someone who does babysitting favors have you?" questioned Grimshaw with a frown.

"Of course not. The truth is that I was aware of your visit to this temple even before you entered the mountains. I needed to know what you were looking for before I told you about this opportunity within our reach" he clarified to Grimshaw.

"I know where you can start old friend, and with luck, get clues about Emma" he added with an enigmatic smile.