The Treasure of the Endless Scrub

By Richard Quarry

A warlord coerces a pair of banished Zen monks into exorcising the curse over his salt mine, where so many slaves have died that the rest refuse to go underground no matter how hard he whips them. For the monks, scheming Rikuzen and his companion the smiling, blind Hotei, the prospect of trying to appease the man-killing mine sounds only slightly more inviting than trying to appease the mounds of fire ants the warlord offers as an alternative.

They have second thoughts, however, when in the course of getting bashed and battered about, the monks learn that they face not just one, but two malevolent forces. The Earth spirits demand tribute for the wealth taken from their domain. They can burn, drown, and crush you. But the pretkya, the "hungry ghosts" of the slaves who having died here now remain compelled to forever haunt this dark realm, will try to chew their way straight to your soul in the hope it may help them escape.

Up above, the fire ants are starting to look more cuddly.A

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Quarry
• Release date: May 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223055303

Book preview

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The Treasure of the Endless Scrub

Richard Quarry

Copyright © 2023 by Richard Clement

All rights reserved.

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Contents

The Treasure of the Endless Scrub

About the Author

Man of Many Turnings

The Treasure of the Endless Scrub

Rikuzen and Hotei very nearly made it out of the territory of Sokochin, warlord over the Land of the Endless Scrub.

Nearly, but not quite. Lance-bearing horsemen caught them just as the misty-blue hills of the Endless Scrub’s border began to rise above the flat horizon, and marched them back.

You are fat, you are lazy, and you are most unnaturally slow, Rikuzen berated his companion as they trudged through the sunbaked land, poked every now and then by sullen cavalrymen. His voice emerged as a croak, the dust raised by the horses’ hooves having caked his lips and throat. For as far as one could see in any direction nothing rose more than two feet above sand pockmarked by low shrubs with brittle branches, and treacherously-hooked cactus that seemed to reach out tentacles to spike their ankles. I have long thought you would be the death of me. In fact I believe that is exactly what Abbot Obaku had in mind when he gave me charge of you.

Behind him Hotei chuckled. He was indeed of exceptional girth and plodding feet, though unfailing cheer. Hotei was not his birth-name of course, that belonging, incongruously, to a god of good fortune. But the resemblance was considerable, down to his bald head, enormous ears, generous girth, and impossibly wide, silly grin. He trudged along behind Rikuzen, guided by the hand touching the staff the thinner and considerably more sour monk carried over his shoulder. For Hotei was also blind.

Oh Ill-visaged Barbarian With a Hoe, he returned, that being the name Rikuzen had acquired at the monastery for his foreign birth and penchant for being banished to labor in the fields, "is it not said that When the world goes in accord with the Tao/Horses are used for hauling manure? For just this reason did the abbot join us, that you might be my eyes, and I your teacher in humility."

Rikuzen harrumphed, being too assailed by dust for further argument.

As he had already guessed, Sokochin did not order them hauled back in order to thank them for clearing his salt mine of the evil spirits causing so much panic among the miners.

You are frauds and tricksters, the pair of you, the warlord stormed at them, as tumbleweed and small dust devils whirled about in the hot wind. He was a tall man, though not quite so tall as Rikuzen, dressed in a cavalryman’s leather trousers and hauberk despite the heat. Beneath the shadow of a three-cornered leather hat his cruel, heavily-lidded eyes glinted narrowly. I do not believe you are monks at all. I only accepted the possibility because he —pointing at the still-grinning Hotei—looked too fat for any other occupation.

Rikuzen pointed to the symbol on the breast of his dark blue robe, an elaborate set of yellow curves meant to symbolize the bud of a flower. We are indeed monks, from the monastery of Hokishi, beloved of the Emperor himself. And, he added darkly, temper prodding him as it had done through so much of his life, rarely to good result, should any doubt my word, I am willing to prove it through single combat. He thumped the end of his staff against the hard-baked ground to emphasize the point.

At this challenge the guards surrounding them levelled their lances. Hokishi was a well-known bastion of the martial arts. But