Relentless Souls by Ryan Kirk

Author:Ryan Kirk [Kirk, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Waterstone Media
Published: 2018-11-27T22:00:00+00:00

28

Fang made a cursory examination of the monastery, ensuring he was truly alone. He hadn’t doubted the abbot, but everything seemed so strange. The abbot hadn’t made the slightest effort to save himself, but why? Why sacrifice himself just for the opportunity to speak to Fang?

His mission was complete, and he knew his task was to keep moving, to spread even more discontent. But every time he looked at the destroyed gate he, found another reason to stay. At first it was to make sure everyone was gone, but that quickly became nothing more than an excuse.

The abbot’s words disturbed him more than he cared to admit. The power they summoned wasn’t their own? The idea was counterintuitive to everything Fang knew. Why else train the body to the degree they did? Why did people feel exhausted after giving everything they had in an attack or a defense?

Maybe he shouldn’t have killed the abbot as quickly as he had. As the head of one of the monasteries, the man would have been privy to secrets. With more time, who knew what Fang might have learned?

A clap of thunder brought him to his senses. He found the highest point in the monastery, a stone tower that rose above the rest of the structures. He climbed it quickly, welcomed by a vicious, cutting wind as he reached the top. He could see a storm front racing toward him, dark and ominous, a thin veil of grey rain drifting toward him. Lightning spiked across the sky.

That changed his plans, then. Mountain storms were nothing to be trifled with. Fang had expected to head back to town tonight, or perhaps even to Niu’s stronghold. Although he’d probably survive the storm if he decided to walk, the risk didn’t seem worth it. Besides, perhaps there was more information in the monastery that would be valuable.

A rumble in his stomach reminded him that food would be necessary as well. He hadn’t eaten since beginning his hike up the mountain, and he could use a good meal. The kitchen was easy enough to find, but he was disappointed to find that very little was left for him to eat. Apparently, the monks had taken most of the food when they left.

A bit of scrounging turned up enough to make a meal, though. He found some rice in the bottom of a sack, a few strips of dried meat, and some less-than-ideal greens in the monastery garden. Nothing that could be called a feast, unfortunately.

He was content, though. Running from the monks meant he’d had little time to hunt, and he didn’t dare show his face in most villages where he might be remembered. He’d eaten hardly anything for days, and even the meager scraps he was able to scavenge from the kitchen were enough to provide him a treat by his standards.

He boiled the rice and the vegetables together, collecting water from the drizzle of rain outside. While the food cooked, he gnawed his way through the dried meat, his mouth salivating to soften the food.

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