Legacy, Book 7 by Warren Murphy & Warren Murphy

Author:Warren Murphy & Warren Murphy [Welch, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944073527
Publisher: Warren Murphy Media LLC

Chapter 15

Chiun smiled as he sat on a throne mounted at the bow of an ancient Korean Turtle ship. The ship was hundreds of years old, but the cannons were fully operational and the iron plating that covered the top of the ship still boasted sharp metal spikes that prevented other ships from boarding it.

Though the ancient battle ship had not been in use since before the Chosun Dynasty, its maintenance was listed at a priority above North Korea’s nuclear program. The ship creaked with the rise of each wave, forcing Stone to steady Mick’s wheelchair.

“Good thing Mick’s still asleep or he’d be puking,” Stone said. “Is this your ship?”

“This,” Chiun said, waving his hands around. “is Pog-pung, the vessel used by Korean kings to visit Sinanju.”

“In other words, it’s your ship. Haircut back there sent us here in a helicopter, so why are we taking a boat?”

“You will see,” Chiun said.

Chiun would not reply to any of Stone’s other questions. For the next forty minutes, the ship tracked the western coast of Korea. Stone only saw mud, snow and small houses on the shore.

“What is that smell?” he asked, crinkling his nose as an acrid odor drifted toward them.

“Home,” Chiun replied, barely containing his glee. “Soon, you shall walk where the Great Wang himself once strode!”

“I hope your food tastes better than it smells,” Stone said. It was way past lunch and he was getting hungry.

“There are no hamburgers in Sinanju,” Chiun said, snorting. “It is time to awaken the scribe.”

Stone barely saw the fingernail touch Mick’s neck before he heard coughing. Mick’s head bounced around, but his eyes were unfocused.

“Mick, can you hear me?” Stone asked.

“He is weak,” Chiun said, rising from the throne. He stood in front of Mick and slapped him on the left side of the head. Mick began sputtering.

“Why did you do that?” he asked in a coarse whisper. “Where are we?”

Chiun smiled but would not speak a word. As the ship rounded the bay, Chiun moved out of Mick’s line of sight.

“We are home,” Chiun said, pulling a rope beside his throne. A loud, droning wail erupted from the head of the turtle mounted at the front of the ship.

Stone covered his ears. “Hey, let a guy know the next time you want to do that!”

The Horns of Welcome appeared in the distance and Mick’s face instantly changed from a look of annoyance and anger to one of deep reverence. The twin spires of stone stood atop a small hill overlooking a cold, gray beach. The Horns were as much a cultural icon to the Sinanju as the Statue of Liberty was to Americans.

Stone stared at the Horns with disbelief. He had a momentary flash of the dream he had on the flight to Pyongyang and then it was gone.

“The village…” Mick whispered. “Stone, we made it.”

“This is familiar,” Stone said, trying to remember the dream.

Mick crinkled his nose in disgust. “What’s that smell?”

“Barbarians,” Chiun said, shaking his head.

As the ship approached the shore, Mick could make out more details.

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