Strange Wyrld: The Elemental

By Paramjit S. Bharj

The Cube Continent reels as the Black Flag Army, led by the villainous Deus Mortem, tears through the mythical land of Midgard to seek out and capture the Elemental, an ancient force of Light reborn in physical form. Circumstances force disgruntled princess

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wembley House
• Release date: Mar 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781999969905

Paramjit S. Bharj

Paramjit S. Bharj, author of the Strange Wyrld series, has been writing short stories and poetry ever since he was a school-boy. His favourite genres include fantasy, horror, and science-fiction. Paramjit loves reading books on esoteric and spiritual subjects and likes to weave bits of wisdom he's picked up into his stories. Writing is Paramjit's passion and he loves to spend as much time as he can crafting new worlds and adventures for his extended-family of characters. However, like everyone else, he's got bills to pay and has to work for a living. Paramjit attained his BSc(Hons) in Computer Science in 1999 and spent a couple of years as a web-developer, before developing his career as a professional Technical Author in Mayfair, London. Following that, he spent a few more years as a Technical Author and Marketing Executive in West Sussex, before being appointed the Managing Director of a Healthcare Provider.

Book preview

LOVE & LOSS

GAIA, MIDGARD, 1742 A.Z. (After Zero Year) Stovor Forest - December 12

DRAGONS COME from the moon, whispered Nehi to her husband. They rode on his brown Destrier through the Stovor Forest, south of Crista, on their way back to Oberon.

Don’t be so daft, he laughed at her, They’re nothing but lizards with big floppy wings and bad breath, and they’re all dead. The couple had decided to leave Crista late that evening when the beautiful Lady Nehi, with hazel brown eyes and long twisty red hair, had decided she’d seen enough of the old town.

I want to go home, she’d told her husband, The children must be driving their granny insane by now. He couldn’t argue with that, and had immediately made ready his horse. Even though his mother loved her grandchildren, he knew Bindo would probably have a few strong words ready for them when they got back. They’d travelled a long distance to see the annual celebrations of the winter solstice that coincided with the advent of Ulya Fazar, the last known ‘prophet’ and that was the only reason granny had agreed to babysit. He knew it wasn’t the best plan to travel so late in the day, but it didn’t matter. He’d made this trip many times before, and besides, what could possibly go wrong?

They left the celebrations as soon as he was ready. The treacherous mountain tracks became extremely quiet after dark and this was no place to travel in large numbers in the early hours, especially as Goblyns, Wolves and other animals often made off with easy pickings - mostly youngsters and stragglers. The tall, well-built man had plotted a popular course through the forest and Nehi felt extremely safe with her husband.

Kallis, a Bedowan Knight, was no coward and as there were only the two of them, he’d prepared for every eventuality he could possibly think of. Other larger groups had already left the celebrations and used the same route earlier that day, so their departure hadn’t attracted much attention.

As their horse plodded along through the slushy, muddy track, Nehi saw a sparkling school of blue-green pixies flutter away in the distance, which reminded her of Matercula. The first dragon had arrived from the moon in an egg-shaped vessel untold years ago, dressed in a long silk robe.

Most believed that it was her skin, she told Kallis, "which she’d shed on her arrival to take the human form, but she still wore it, in the form of a long robe that her servants had made for her.

It not only kept her warm in the cold, and cool in the heat, but amplified her own powers and protected her from all sorts of spells and enchantments.

Kallis knew that Nehi was in awe of Matercula and had heard this story many a time from his wife’s mouth, but he let her carry on for the escalating war in the South had kept him away from her for so long, and this was the first trip he’d taken alone with her since his return. The knight was glad the King-Regent of Aramon, Ranulph Senn had withdrawn from the conflict and decided to instead strengthen Midgard’s own extensive borders.

The Dragon Queen’s husband, King Pater, had built up an empire that almost rivalled Wyrld-King Vaudin’s own, continued Nehi, and Pater was a very powerful serpent-king. However, all the power in the wyrld didn’t stop Matercula from slaying her own beloved, soon after her arrival on Gaia. With her offspring, she vied to take over the wyrld, and was stopped only by the Wyrld-King, Vaudin.

Tell me again, how did he do it? jested Kallis.

Stop it, laughed Nehi as she smacked him on his behind.

Seeing Vaudin’s prowess and courage on the field, the Dragon Queen fell in love with him, and likewise, the Wyrld-King fell in love with her.

Were they soul-mates? he asked as he kissed Nehi on the lips.

Just like us, I believe, whispered the Lady, then gently pulled away.

Let me finish the story.

Okay, agreed Kallis, Means more for later.

Believing her husband to be enchanted, Vaudin’s wife, Queen Mor-tia sought out and tried to kill the Dragon Queen, but was thwarted by her own husband. Vaudin turned her into a pig-woman and banished poor Mor-tia, for hurting his beloved, to the White Flower Valley of Mosferat in the South.

Vaudin wasn’t very nice, said Kallis. No honour in that man.

Mortally wounded, continued Nehi ignoring his comment, the Dragon Queen bequeathed her empire to Vaudin, and once more, the Wyrld-King reigned supreme. However, his wife was one to bear grudge and stole the skin robe that belonged to Matercula. With its mystical power, Mor-tia became a mighty sorceress and a continual thorn in her husband’s side.

Just like you, said Kallis then immediately regretted it as Nehi slapped him on the helmet and it slunk forward.

Now I can’t see where we’re going, he moaned.

Nehi straightened the helmet and hugged Kallis tight.

I’m not that bad, am I? she asked softly.

Not on your life, reassured her husband.

Nehi suddenly tensed and sat up straight. Kallis felt the change and twisted round.

What’s the matter?

Nehi didn’t answer, but gazed uneasily out into the distance.

I don’t know... something about this road doesn’t feel right.

She held his arm tight, Please, let us stop at once.

You want to go back to Crista?

Yes, or take another path.

He studied Nehi’s fearful expression.

Why are you so afraid?

Look above, she replied, Look at the clouds that gather; look at the woods... they’re so dark and almost sickly.

Kallis noticed the trees. They looked as if they had started to wither, as if a plague had settled in this part of the wood and started to spread.

How quiet, Nehi went on, everything has become so still.

It was like life had been removed and the only thing present in the woods was death itself.

What should I do?

He knew that his wife had a sixth sense about things, and oft times, she’d predicted a lot of things to come, however he also recalled the few times she’d been wrong. Just then, a sharp bolt of lightning passed overhead and into the nearby trees; thunderclaps followed and forced the clouds to release their loads.

It started to rain.

The downpour was unceasing and forced the couple to find shelter in the forest. Kallis and Nehi rode into a thicket and waited for the storm to die out. Silent moments passed, when suddenly Nehi screamed in fright as a thin, pale figure with ghastly blue-green eyes and sagging skin leaped onto the path in front of them. The Destrier panicked and backed so suddenly away from the cloaked figure, it caused Lady Nehi to fall badly into the wet sludge. The knight quickly dismounted and stood between his wife and the stranger.

Who the hell are you? he shouted.

It stood there and twisted its head left, then slowly right. Kallis turned back to glimpse Nehi as she struggled to get up, which was distraction enough for the stranger. As if possessed, the dark entity screamed and lunged forward at the knight. Taken by surprise, he could do nothing as she grabbed him by the head and spat hot acid into his eyes. As he toppled over, huge fangs unfolded from her mouth, which she drove deep into his neck. The knight wailed in agony as she pumped venom into him and the acid on his face burned through one of his eyes, scarring his once handsome face. He crumpled into the mud, trembling in pain, unable to defend himself or his poor wife.

You witch! screamed Nehi.

As the good wife tried to reach Kallis, she could do nothing as their attacker leapt onto her. Lady Nehi scratched away at the stranger and tried to hold her off, but it was hopeless. The witch’s claws dug into her arms and pinned her down.

Why? WHY? cried Nehi until she felt a sharp stabbing pain in her chest and started to choke on her own blood.

The witch had plunged a crooked old dagger made of bone, entwined in silver cord, deep into the Lady and bent over to drink her blood as it gushed out. Nehi unwillingly stopped struggling as she gave in to the pain, her strength faded and her body went limp. Her anguished eyes remained open as the witch tossed her body into the muddy undergrowth.

As her life force diminished and her blood fed the soil, Nehi’s last sight was that of the witch looking deep into her eyes. The rain washed away the Lady’s final tears as the witch pulled out her dagger and licked the blade before putting it away. She caressed herself a little, as if this brutal act aroused her, and then twisted her neck to look back at the fallen knight.

The feeding caused her skin to tighten and her body to fill out again, revealing an older woman with matted silver black hair. The witch rose off Nehi’s corpse and pulled away her cloak to reveal a pale curvaceous body, which if the knight had seen, would have been difficult for him to ignore. She ran her claw-like fingers through her long hair and, stealthily as a cat, pinned the fallen knight to the ground between her thighs.

Stop squirming and enjoy it, she hissed, when all of a sudden, Kallis lunged out at her.

His gauntlet struck the witch’s face and scarred her left eye. She screamed, then pulled out her dagger and drove it through the palm of his hand and into the wet ground.

The man’s cries filled the air as he wished for this debacle to come to an end.

Nehi! he screamed.

The witch laughed at the pathetic mortal as she wiped the blood from her face.

She can’t help you, she crowed undeterred, and continued to spread-eagle the fallen knight to the cold wet earth.

He struggled to free his arm when the witch wiped her blood onto his face and screamed, Prohibere Movere!

She cast an immobility spell that made him freeze on the spot, then stripped him to the bone, ripping through his clothes with her dagger and deliberately tearing through his flesh to get the blood flowing.

Please, please, please... mumbled the knight as the pain became unbearable.

That’s better, she smiled, Beg for it.

The witch then bent over the cold, wet and naked man, and licked the blood from his wounds. It was delicious, and she took her time about it. She wrapped her claws gently around his body and started to stroke him. As he got harder and harder, she repositioned herself to mount him. It was agony and ecstasy. The witch bent over and repeatedly kissed the fallen man as she rode him to ejaculation. Then, in the very same moment, she bit into his lower lip, and caused it to bleed out into her mouth.

She rotated her hips round and round as the poor man was forced to release all of his life force into her. With a sharp scream of victory, she carried on the evil intercourse for a while longer, and enjoyed watching her helpless victim scream and squirm in agony. The knight fell unconscious as the wicked witch slowly drained him of his dignity. Her stomach started to glow, then it changed shape and started to grow.

She smiled as she realised her efforts had not been wasted. Her spell had worked and the energy that she’d sucked out of this one had already started to create new life inside her at an exponential rate. She’d struck gold. This fallen knight, he was the one.

You belong to me now, she whispered as she gently stroked his face, You’re a keeper.

Act One

UPHEAVAL

ONE

SILO

GAIA, GANTREE, 1763 A.Z. Grand Trunk Road toward Ramsten - November 27 - 21 Years Later

PERRI SILO rode Daisy hard and fast through the wispy clouds of white incense smoke that filled market town, as well as the highly incensed traders who desperately made finger gestures at her whilst protecting their wares. It wasn’t like she didn’t care. She did, but if she didn’t whip through market town, there was every chance she might get recognised and then get stuck in a crowd of well-wishers, or worse still, her father’s soldiers would find her. There were innumerable street vendors selling fast food that ranged from fried toads, rats and chickens to battered fish mixed in strange spices, which stung her nose as she breathed them in. The princess wondered how many would die of snacking this foul day.

Probably no more than every day, she reasoned.

Silo was a Sussian, what some people may call half-woman half-pig, but to call her either wasn’t a good idea. Sussians were the tip of the genetic iceberg for the Sus civilisation, which included boarish Scrufans, warrior Warthogs and Therians, and several other subspecies. She was also amazed at how much faith the common folk still put in practises like Vista Star, a philosophical system of harmonising everyone with their surrounding environment. There were magicians by the dozen out to find apprentices, and other traders selling enslaved pixies in small metal cages. Silo detested any form of slavery and deliberately rode Daisy through one of the trader’s stands, knocking over several pixie prisons and setting them free. She quickly glanced back to see freed pixies setting all the others free and exacting vicious magical revenge on their captors.

Silo pushed through and past the queues at the iron gates, much to the angst of the city guards, and on-wards to Ramsten, relieved that she wasn’t being pursued. She’d taken this route several times before, through the same valleys and landscapes that her ancestors had used to conquer Gantree over a thousand years ago. The vast grassy steppes and looming mountains were fantastical and the cool air rushing through her long red hair made her feel alive. The long and winding dusty road took her past dwarfish farmers on giant wagons still on their way to market town, and through several deserted villages once used as temporary settlements by the old nomadic tribes.

She noticed some were still occupied by poor families, who were nevertheless happy. Their children played outside without a care, pretending to be mythical characters from popular fairy tales. One of the girls was dressed up as Tara, girl of the Magic-Lands, and that meant the one crouching on all fours had to be her faithful Centaur, Stave. Finally, the one tormenting them both was none other than Tara’s arch-nemesis, the evil Villain. The fair skinned princess with soft green eyes laughed as she rode past, waving at and cheering them on. She felt a sudden pang in her heart and wished she’d had the opportunity to play like that when she was younger.

Never mind, she told herself, Never mind.

Silo could see the Isles of Upside-Down floating past in the distant sky. The Isles were literally upside-down islands that floated high in the sky, whose inhabitants, known as the Islanders, believed that they were right-side up and the wyrld was upside down. She looked hard, attempting to pierce through the veil of clouds that wrapped themselves around the isles. There was the odd golden spire that pierced the veil and reflected in the sunlight. She imagined the lush forests and the pink waterfalls that she’d heard about from explorers who graced the royal court from time to time. She recalled that most of the major cities up there were located on the outer rims, and that the inlands were mostly left untouched due to all sorts of superstitious beliefs. Another reason was that no stars could be seen directly above, but only on the far edges of their lands, and for a superstitious society, that was taboo.

As the princess neared Ramsten, she noticed the high number of ‘Missing Persons’ posters pasted on billboards and on walls of dilapidated buildings, which reminded her of the dark tales Bovak Gusteau used to tell about the isles, and one which featured his ancestor, the Great Grand Ilya Gusteau. Long ago, Ilya Gusteau had stormed the Isles as part of a rescue mission against some Islanders who’d stolen children from the mainland during a period of close orbit. Upon successfully retrieving half of the children, she’d exacted payment and revenge by mining one of the isles and stealing many of its levitation crystals. These same crystals were now said to rest below the River Palace of Aramoa. Silo was glad that the isles weren’t floating anywhere near her right now.

Outside of Ramsten, a small village that suffered much the same fate as every other village in Gantree with hosts of refugees from the other southern kingdoms expanding it into a shanty town, Silo stopped on a small hill with a view of the town and let Daisy rest. She patted her old horse as she gave her fresh hay to eat. Silo opened her satchels and carefully took out her weapons of choice. She’d brought along one Katar, ideal for stabbing in close combat, and a half-sword known as a Khanjar. Each weapon had been meticulously handcrafted for her by Sikh artisans from the North. Once she’d strapped on her weapons and body armour, she took a careful look at the main routes, of which there were four, and each with lots of traffic heading into town. Her combat instructor, the Minotaur, Maester Grafi Embro, always warned her that a good escape route was worth planning before stepping into the lion’s den, and that’s exactly what she did each time she visited Ramsten. She was surprised at how quickly this place was growing.

Probably faster than the other villages, she thought, and all thanks to Kranzel’s fighting pits.

Silo climbed back into her saddle and kissed her lucky charm. It was a clear crystal embedded inside a silver circle with small golden triangles on four sides, which she wore around her neck. Satisfied with the lay of the land and movement of people, she joined the road closest to her, moving deeper into the shanty town. There were fighters from all over the neighbouring villages. Silo recognised a lot of them, for she’d faced and defeated them before.

You greedy little bitch! hollered one of them, Why don’t you just die and give us a chance!

It was the large reptilian called ‘The Giver’, a savage brute with almost no skill whatsoever who she’d almost beheaded last year, but was stopped by the Ringmaster. His real name was Tarlok, and he always raped his victims right there and then in the ring. He had no shame.

So much for justice.

Bring yourself over here right now, Phantasm, called Tarlok addressing her by her fighting name, and I promise I won’t shame you in the ring!

Silo had heard enough and shouted back, Keep your balls in your pocket Tarlok, or I promise you’ll lose them.

The explosion of laughter around The Giver was enough to turn his attention to insulting his comrades in order to save his already fragile reputation.

I’ll see you in the ring! he shouted at Silo as she galloped off down a different road.

There were some who recognised her and just stared, whilst others spat on the dusty road and turned around to avoid another beating. Silo felt bad for these village fighters, each vying for a chance to earn a small amount of money to live a little longer. She wasn’t fighting for the money. She simply enjoyed martial combat. It helped her put her training to practice and was the only successful way she’d found to vent her frustrations. She enjoyed a good fight and besides, Maester Grafi had recommended it to the young princess. She grinned as she rode on into Ramsten. Silo loved Maester Grafi. He was almost the father she’d never had, a tough old beast with a soft heart, at least for her. She rode past several more competitors, and one strangely dressed, dark skinned old man whom she’d never seen before. He winked and smiled at Silo as he rode his steed and headed past her towards the same dreaded fighting pits Ramsten was best known for.

That old pervert doesn’t even know who I am, she thought. Maybe I’ll get to show him in the ring.

TWO

MONKS AWAY

GAIA, MIDGARD, 1763 A.Z. The Hare-wood Forest, near the Light Temple - November 27

EACH STEP Jin Tugaya took on the midnight run back to their temple was a serious injury just waiting to happen. He sweated profusely as he panted for dear breath, while ahead of him, his lean friend, Manesh ‘Mumi’ Patel, sprinted with ease. He could see Mumi turn back every now and then.

Probably just to see if I’m still alive...and keeping up with him.

Tugaya wanted to use a couple of four letter curses, but that would mean breaking one of his vows, precisely which one he couldn’t remember. Jin Tugaya and Mumi were both monks, ordained at the Light Temple in the Cascade Mountains, above the Deserts of Torsh, and had been friends for as long as they both could remember. Tugaya was three-years younger than the older Mumi who’d just hit 24 years. Dressed in black, they made their way back home in the cover of darkness.

Wait up! he called out to Mumi, who slowed down enough to keep pace with his chubby friend.

"What’s wrong? asked Mumi.

Tugaya stared at him and imagined swatting him over the head. Even if he could do it, he didn’t want to waste whatever strength he had left.

What do you bloody think is wrong? Everything... is wrong, panted Tugaya, I need to stop. I need to lose weight.

Mumi circled his friend a couple of times, then sat down against a rock in the long cool grass. Tugaya stood straight for as long as he could, then gave up and leaned over, hands on knees. He tugged at his black top as if it was strangling him.

These clothes...they’re too tight, he looked at Mumi, You got me the wrong size didn’t you?

Mumi laughed, They’re the same ones you wore last time, and all the other times we’ve snuck out.

Tugaya wasn’t amused, and stopped talking to concentrate on catching his breath, whilst Mumi laughed on.

The only thing that’s changed, he said, is your waist-line.

Tugaya stomped over to his thin friend and stood over him.

That’s uncalled for. I only eat one full meal a day, just like you.

That you do, agreed Mumi, But your bowl is a lot bigger than mine.

Mumi chuckled as he leapt to his feet and Tugaya slumped onto the grass.

That feels so good, he said as he stretched his arms and legs.

I don’t think I’m doing this anymore.

What? asked a surprised Mumi.

Hunting vampyres...I think I’m done with it.

Mumi walked over to his friend and knelt next to him. The two of them had been sneaking out of the temple every month for the last three years, to help their village friends collect vampyre teeth to trade at the local markets. Vampyre teeth were solid currency in these parts, the longer the better.

Ah, come on Jin, said Mumi, We can’t let the villagers down now. They depend on us, and it’s not like we’re breaking our vows. Vampyres are technically already dead.

Tugaya looked at the distress on Mumi’s face, then reached up and patted his friend’s bald head.

I know that, but it’s just that I think Keno’s getting suspicious. I can feel it, said Tugaya. Every time we practice making portals, it’s as if...he’s reading my mind.

And I bet he can’t stand what he finds in there, laughed Mumi, who paused, then added, Unless he secretly does...

Tugaya thumped him on the leg and said, Maybe one more run next month, but that’s the last one.

The chubby monk then jumped up to his feet using Mumi’s head for support and ran off into the forest.

That’s not fair. You’re gonna have to help me recruit a new hunter, he called out to Tugaya as he chased after him.

The two monks ran at a steady pace as the moons shone overhead and painted the skies a white and purple hue. The smaller moon, Draconis, was said by the monks to have appeared a lot later than the first, and that it was a result of a great commotion in the black unknown. Tugaya recalled having overheard a senior monk nick-named Razzle, for his mere touch always gave off static shocks, speak of an old history book in the library that told of times long forgotten.

Do you believe what the Corpus Fragmentum says about the Draconis? asked Tugaya.

The question made Mumi too look up at the purple moon. It was the shape of a large egg, with large scales all over it.

They say a lot of things. Anything in particular?

Tugaya slowed down a bit.

About it having entered orbit just after a great cataclysm in space.

Heard something like that from Maha Boga, replied Mumi, but she didn’t go into detail or anything... although she did say that it was definitely inhabited by dragon people.

Eyes wide in surprise, Tugaya didn’t say anything as Mumi continued, That’s where the old Dragon Queen came from, you know, the one that Wyrld-King was supposed to have fallen in love with.

Tugaya remembered, And the reason why he broke his wife’s heart... and banished her to this wyrld.

Mumi winced, You really believe all that?

Of course not, said Tugaya, It’s just an old story with a few celestial objects thrown in to give it credibility. Besides, where are the gods now? Wyrld’s gone to pots and they’re nowhere to be seen.

Mumi laughed, We could make up a few of our own... and make a small fortune...

He saw the way Tugaya looked at him and quickly added, ...for the people... to help the people.

Bad idea, said Tugaya, especially since Keno likes to read our minds.

Both monks laughed and ran on for a short distance.

Do you ever think about your parents? asked Mumi.

Tugaya was surprised. Mumi hadn’t spoken about his parents for a long time, and that was sad enough. He remembered how Mumi, then only ten, had broken down in front of the elders when they’d told him his mother had died. Even though they sympathised, the elders had seen a weakness in him, and one that could be used against him. They’d done the same thing with Tugaya a year later, with a story about the demise of his parents but he hadn’t flinched. He’d surprised them by asking them to prove it. That was when Eliezer Keno, the second most senior monk after the Abbot had started to train him personally.

All those years ago. Sometimes, said Tugaya, then asked, "What’s brought this up then?

It’ll be 14 years next Tuesday...since they broke it to me.

Don’t worry about it, reassured Tugaya, She’s the lucky one, not stuck on this rock.

I guess, mumbled Mumi.

What’s the matter? Tugaya asked as he stopped running and clambered up a small mound to hug a giant Sprittle tree.

If he was lucky enough, he might find some hanging on the lower branches. Sprittles grew in bunches, like grapes, but were fleshy and crunchy just like apples, and the best bit was that some were sweet and others sour.

Stop abusing that tree and let’s get a move on, called Mumi.

Not until you tell me what’s brought this on, defied Tugaya.

Mumi listened into the distance and paused.

Did you hear that?

Stop changing the subject, shouted Tugaya, who suddenly stopped shuffling and listened hard.

Is that a man...singing?

It’s a bloke, said Mumi, an old one at that. Let’s go take a look.

Frustrated at not finding any Sprittles, Tugaya followed Mumi who had already started the muddy descent towards the singing man. As they neared the River Rani, Tugaya admired the beautiful turquoise waters as they flowed majestically onward, towards the deserts where they turned a bloody red. It was all to do with the mineral deposits as Tugaya knew, but many in these parts believed magic was responsible. As they got nearer, Mumi recognised the man to whom the rattly old voice belonged.

That’s Razzle, he said with a hint of excitement.

Speak of the devil, said Tugaya, What’s he doing out here?

Bet he’s the reason the river turns red down below, smirked Mumi.

Why’s that?

Cos, he pisses blood at his age, laughed Mumi.

Quiet or he might hear us, warned Tugaya, and remember...he’s allowed to be out here and we’re not.

The two young monks moved in closer until they could see the old monk washing away his pale leathery freckled skin in the river. He was singing an old song, one that told the tale of a heroic knight:

"One such witch fell in love with a knight,

Her Queen was not happy and of the couple made a sacrifice!

The knight he survived, his wife too not for long,

The poor man blinded for doing no wrong.

Kallis, Kallis, Kallis ‘The Brave’

Struck out at the Queen and scarred her face.

‘His Bedowan saviours put his wife in her grave,

But the witch, she took away poor Kallis, our Kallis the Brave."

As the old monk sang and lathered his well-used body, Mumi noticed his red robes folded neatly and placed on the bank right in front of them. Without even consulting his partner in crime, Mumi leapt forward and grabbed the robes. Tugaya tried to stop him but mis-stepped and his foot landed on a large twig, which split down the middle. Its crack filled the air and caused Mumi to stop dead for a split second before he realised that Razzle had whipped around and was looking right at him, trying hard to squint through stinging soapy eyes. Mumi let out a terrified scream as he saw all of Razzle dangling before him and rushed back into the bushes.

You there! he called out, Stop right there. I’ve seen you... called out Razzle, whose real name was Ajahn Merrito.

The poor old monk carried on calling out to the thieves and threatening them with the karmic repercussions of their actions until his assistants rushed to see what was the matter with him.

Why’d you go and do that? shouted Tugaya as the two monks scampered through the woods to get back to the temple before Razzle did.

Payback, panted Mumi. He’s been picking on me since he got here.

Tugaya didn’t push the point. He knew that Mumi wasn’t lying, but whatever Razzle had done, Tugaya knew he had his reasons, and at least for him, there had always been a valuable lesson to learn. Tugaya didn’t like what Mumi had done, but unfortunately, in this their fates were tied.

***

JIN TUGAYA led Manesh ‘Mumi’ Patel through the underground tunnels that networked almost twenty hidden entrances to the Light Temple. The heat from the flaming torch was overbearing as they traversed the damp, dark route known only to the elders. As usual, Tugaya had found a way to access highly secret information and put it to good use. He wondered about Mumi sometimes. Throughout their friendship, Mumi had always convinced Tugaya to take his pranks one step further, and Tugaya had happily gone along. That hadn’t changed at all. He was still up for a challenge every now and then, but the incident with Razzle’s robes and what he’d just done with them made him question Mumi’s intentions.

Why’d you go and hang the robes up there on the main gate? whispered Tugaya.

Mumi didn’t answer for a while, then said, Idiot. So, they wouldn’t find them on us.

We could have just dumped them, instead of displaying them across the flipping gates.

Tugaya didn’t