The next day, Bangqiu announced his plans to leave. But the
others prevailed, arguing that after another day’s rest, all would be fit to
travel. They stayed in the guest house
the entire day. When the monks visited,
they asked about any strange occurrences in the night. Bo-Jing responded with
cold suspicion that soon turned to hostility. The monks confessed that the monastery was
“under a curse” and that the source seemed to be the disused blacksmith’s
shed. Bo-Jing shrugged off this
explanation and asked to be left alone.
Bangqiu, in secret, visited the blacksmith’s shed and found it to be
unnaturally cold. He shared this
information with the others; all agreed that even with this verification of one
detail in the monks’ story, they were entitled to little trust.
That night, the company barricaded all entrances to the
guest the house—the front door, the door to the chapel, and the secret passage
from the chapel to the main house.
Several hours after dark, there was a loud banging from the front
door. Peering from a window, Nekhil
spotted one of the horrible monsters that Bo-Jing had dueled in the chapel the
night before. Reasoning that they were
much better prepared and had a clear advantage of numbers, they made a plan to
let the monster in and capture it, or failing that, kill it. Bo-Jing stood back some distance from the door
and the other warriors prepared a gauntlet on either side of the entry
corridor. Ryu, Bangqiu, Salt stayed out
of sight but nearby and ready to help where needed. Bo-Jing gave the signal and Nekhil opened the
door, stepping out of the way as the monster rushed into the waiting spears and
swords. It was grievously wounded and
Bo-Jing readied to overpower it.
But then there was a terrible shriek from another part of
the house, then another and another, and within moments, a small horde of
monsters attacked the company from all angles.
Bo-Jing left the wounded monster to Nekhil as he turned to face the new
enemies. Their plan ruined, each of the
warriors was forced to fight for his own life, with Bo-Jing taking on two of
the monsters at once. Salt and Bangqiu
blasted the monsters with magic missiles and then retreated, goading several of
the monsters to pursue. Having drawn the
monsters away from their companions, the two wu jen turned and blasted them
with their most potent and explosive magic, destroying them in a burst of fire
and steam.
The monsters’ numbers, cut in half, the warriors regrouped
and improved their tactics, fighting one or two monsters at a time in a narrow
part of the corridor. As one warrior
tired, Ryu pulled him (under protest) to safety as another took his place so
that Bo-Jing always had a companion to protect his weak side and to assist in
flanking the fearsome monsters. They
fought with abandon, seemingly eager to kill or be killed with almost equal
measure, shrieking as they trampled over their fallen comrades. Concluding that they were undead beings, Ryu
through a jar of holy water at them. It smashed on the stones, splashing water
on the monsters; the hems of their robes disintegrated and their flesh steamed
and burned. Only then did the monsters
attempt to flee; the warriors pursued and cut them down.
When the last monster fell, Bo-Jing staggered a few paces away
from the and sank to the floor. Ryu
issued him healing droughts and bandaged his wounds with poultices. All had been slashed or bitten; they washed
themselves thoroughly. Ryu volunteered that he would stand guard the whole
night, and awaken the others at the first sign of any trouble.
The night passed without incident and, in the morning, the
two monks they’d gotten to know knocked at the door. “We hope no one was disturbed b the curse
last night.”
Bo Jing demanded that the monks produce some holy water. The monks nodded, went away for several
minutes and returned with a brass bowl filled with water. With some amusement, they followed Bo-Jing’s
directions to dip their fingers in the bowl, then to pour someone their robes,
then to pour some on their feet, then to drink it. In all of these demonstrations, the water
interacted with the monks in the same way that ordinary water would interact
with an ordinary person. When the water
was exhausted Bo-Jing thanked the monks and Salt explained that they had been
attacked in the night by undead monsters.
And asked the monks if they could bring some more holy water to cleanse
the house.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Ryu was performing a ritual to prepare
his own holy water. And by the time the
monks returned, each carrying a larger brass vessel, Ryu’s holy water was
ready. He splashed the water on one of
the mons; he was affected the same way as the monsters in the night. Both monks ran away screaming and both were
killed by Bo-Jing and is warriors.
The company rested and were not disturbed by monks in the
day nor monsters at night. Over the next
few days, they explored the monastery, discovering that most of it had fallen
into disuse. The dormitory, the training
rooms, and the meditation room all showed signs of being inhabited by
bloodthirsty monsters. The stable was
empty. The company’s poor horses had
been killed and mainly eaten.
There was also a library, seemingly untouched for many
years. Monks had lived there were
centuries and there had been good times and bad times. A time when one of the monks convinced the
others that he had achieved a greater enlightened, forever changing their
previously pure egalitarianism. The more
recent chronicles described the debates about creating gold coins in order to
complete a special building project.
Many monks had left, but the abbot had reluctantly sided with the “gold”
faction. The project continued and was
completed. This seemed to be the time
that Gaansukh remembered from when he was a boy.
The need for labor brought in workers from far away. A group of these workers expressed an
interest in joining the order, and this seemed a natural decision to replace those
whom had departed during the debate over worldly riches. These new initiates showed a strange zeal far
outstripped their understanding. They
displayed very unenlightened behavior, one night feasting on the cow that the
monks kept for milk. The older monks slowly
departed, often without explanation.
Before long, the abbot lost control of the monastery, but nevertheless
remained, wanting to believe the new monks could benefit from better
instruction.
Because the chronicles made repeated references to a crypt,
company decided to search the monastery more thoroughly and discover what may
lay beneath. They found a trapdoor in
the monks’ house that led to a network of tunnels. They found an exit to the outside on the far
side of the ridge. They found a trapdoor
leading into the guesthouse. They
encountered and fought strange, tentacled vermin.
And, in a little dungeon cell, they found an old man in
tattered robes, chained to the wall. He
responded to the party with wary defiance.
Though he answered Bo-Jing’s theological riddles with acuity, he refused
to answer any of their more temporal questions (“Who are you?” “What’s down here?”) until he had been freed
and brought outside. Relying on wisdom
he had garnered in the library, Bo-Jing agreed.
The old man blinked in late afternoon light and took a long
deep breath. After receiving food and
water, he moved some distance away from the company, keeping them in sight
while also demanding that they come no closer.
The sun set, it became dark and cold and the old man broke
down in tears. He called Bo-Jing and the
others to him, embracing them, ruffling their hair and kissing their
cheeks. “You are not monsters! You are not monsters!”
The next morning, the man explained that he was Rabban Bar Ṣawma,
the last abbot of the monks of the way of the light. “But not the last monk! There will be others, maybe one of you?”
Though none of the company wished to enter the monastic
life, they heartily agreed to give him whatever material assistance he
needed.
The company stayed several more days, resting, and ensuring
that Rabban Ṣawma was safe. He responded
well to daylight and fresh air; with every day he appeared a year younger. After a couple weeks, they had no misgivings
about leaving him behind when they returned to Banua.
As the company prepared to take their leave, Rabban Sawma
embraced each of them. In bidding farewell to Bo Jing, he pressed a coin into
his palm. Bo Jing knew what it was, and
confirmed his intuition when he reached the bottom of the cliff. The reddish
gold coin of the King of the North. The
last of the four coins. And the source
of the monks’ sudden wealth, some twenty years before. For it had the power to turn coins of lead—or
any other base metal into gold. Awed by
this power and with the lesson of the monks’ downfall in his mind, Bo Jing
resolved to conserve its power. He would
live as he always did. And when he
traveled, we would carry only lead coins, turning one or two into
gold as needed.
