"Signpost For a Lost Traveler"
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dochermes"Signpost For a Lost Traveler"
4/3/1989
I.
Fuming, Chen Wong-Lai slammed the door to his quarters with unnecessary emphasis.
He seldom stayed in these rooms at the KDF headquarters, keeping little more than a couple changes of clothes and a few books he caught up on when manning night monitor duty. Keeping his own tiny apartment on Ventnor Street had been important to his independence.
Still under thirty, Chen was as fit as any Olympic athlete. Not only he had studied his father's secret Fang Lung style, he had been taught Kumundu by Teacher Chael at Tel Shai for the past two years. A few inches under six feet tall and lean as a runner, Chen was more than a match for opponents much larger thaan himself. At the moment, with anger making him tense up, the new Dragon of Midnight moved more stiffly than his normal smooth catlike motions.
He caught himself breathing quickly. Chen stepped to the center of his room and stood with feet together and fists at his side. He bowed to Teacher Chael, farther away than miles could measure, then began his DohRa form. This started with poses that became more difficult to hold, then shifted into slow motions which became kicks and blocks and punches. As he warmed up, his strikes blurred out quicker and quicker as he seemed to be fighting multiple imaginary enemies. Twenty minutes passed. Chen's movements slowed again, became stances which gradually cooled down in the same salute that had begun the form.
The DohRa forms were individually developed for each student by Chael and modified constantly as they improved. Chen was breathing deeply and evenly. His temper had been reined in by the concentration. He went into his bathroom, stripping down and tossing his clothing in a hamper in one corner. After a steaming hot shower, the Dragon of Midnight emerged and examined his reflection in the mirror over the sink. Shaving was hardly necessary. Chen had tried to grow a beard once without noticeable success. He had been letting his coarse black hair grow recently at its covered the tops of his ears and reached the base of his neck.
Even in the shower, he kept the flat Dragon Pendant on its fine-linked chain around his neck. Two inches high, it represented a stylized Imperial wingless dragon rearing on its hind legs with its muzzle gaping. As he toweled off, he carefully dried the ancient talisman as well.
It was a warm April afternoon. Chen tugged on snug black jeans, a white T-shirt and a blue Chambray shirt he left unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled back. Thick cotton socks and white sneakers completed the outfit. He frowned at the closet door where what looked like a leotard of wet silk with a glossy sheen was hanging. He was sick of wearing that flexible armor under his clothes every day all day. He was sick of carrying the anesthetic dart gun holstered under a jacket. Chen felt so annoyed by the world he almost left the Link on his dresser but realized that would be going too far. The team might depend on him being available. He grudgingly clipped it to his belt. Wallet, keys, some cash went into his pockets but none of the miniature gadgets KDF members invariably carried. One day without carrying an arsenal was not too much to ask.
Chen hurried down the stairs from the second hall to the front hall of headquarters. To his right, the office door was open. As he reached the bottom step, he saw Jeremy Bane glance up from the big oak desk beneath the hand-painted map of the world. "Hey, Chen,"said the Dire Wolf from behind a shambles of loose pieces of paper.
"Think I'll go for a little run."
"It's a great day for it," Bane agreed. "I only wish the paperwork would do itself."
"You can reach me if anything comes up," said the Dragon of Midnight, already heading for the door.
"Enjoy. We're having roast turkey catered at six, remember."
Chen left the building, stepping down to East 38th Street. He did feel like running. Swinging right, he took off at an easy lope he could keep up for hours. Being out in the open air helped his mood. Sometimes he realized how patient his teammates were with him. Chen was not the easiest person to get along with, but at least his moods blew over quickly.
At 42nd Street, he turned left and had to wait for the lights to cross Fifth Avenue. He slowed to a walk and paused at the front steps of the Public Library. Little kids were having their pictures taken by the stone lions. Their giggling and posing made him wistful. Sitting on the steps, a blonde college age girl was sketching with charcoal on an oversized pad. A fat middle-aged man was lost in a newspaper. Chen sighed audibly. None of them knew about the brutal Midnight War that raged unseen around them. They lived in a protected bubble of blissful ignorance.
Then he noticed the white-bearded Asian man staring at him from twenty feet away. He was tall and thin, wearing an old-fashioned business suit with his hands deep in the trouser pockets, the shirt top button undone with no necktie. At least seventy, he had longish hair and a neat beard that were both pure white. Most striking were the spiky eyebrows over deep-sunken eyes with a single inner fold.
Chen could not help being annoyed at that steady stare. "What are you looking at?"
"A lost traveler looking for a signpost," came the reply.
II.
"Oh, save that stuff for fortune cookies," Chen snorted, but with a tinge of amusement in his voice.
"You resemble your father physically but you do not have his unity of spirit."
Stepping closer, giving the elder a dubious scrutiny, Chen scoffed. "Is this a con game? Are you going to try to sell me something?"
"The son of Chen Lee-Sun already wears an object of great value, I can sense it from here."
With the constant traffic noise, no one was close enough to hear them converse. Even so, Chen stepped closer to the old man. "You've got my attention. What's the deal?"
"The shadow of the past hangs over you," said the white-bearded man. "I am Lao Liang-Hai. Many call me Grandfather Lao out of courtesy."
"All right, Grandfather. I'll play along. Are you telling me you knew my father?"
The old man nodded and gestured to his left. "Come, let us sit and talk. There is so much you must learn." He led the way over to Bryant Park behind the library. There were two rows of stalls facing each across a walkway, selling tourist items such as T-shirts, scented candles, posters and booklets. A wide variety of fast food was also available. Grandfather Lao indicated Chen should be seated at one of the round metal tables with attached chairs, then went to the nearby booth.
Despite his strong inclination to suspect traps and ambushes, Chen found he was more intrigued than anything else. As a KDF member and Tel Shai knight, he had many murderous enemies and was in a state of constant wariness. There was no reason to trust this stranger. And yet, Chen found he was not as suspicious as he should be.
Grandfather Lao came over with a cardboard tray holding a dozen pork dumplings and two styrofoam cups of plain black tea. Disposable chopsticks had been including. He lowered himself gingerly to face Chen and began to eat. Chen followed suit. Eating together was a basic way of breaking tension and building slight trust.
Chewing slowly and thoroughly, the old man began, "Your father was already retired when I saw him last. Robert Hawk had died and with him went the Sting. Chen Lee-Sun had become less and less active by then. You were barely ten years old, and your parents found you a handful."
"It's no secret that Hawk was the Sting," Chen admitted. "A reporter found out and there had been some books and magazine articles but by then wartime crimefighters were old news. Same for my father. Anyone who was interested could find out he had been the Dragon of Midnight but the world had moved on."
Grandfather Lao took a sip of the tea and frowned. "This is awful. It's hot water that has only be grazed by a tea leaf. Yes, when I knew your father, he had already begun instructing you in his personal Fang Lung style."
"Oh no. No more gung fu trouble! I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of getting punched in the face and kicking people and all that nonsense. And for what? Ego and vanity. Guys determined to prove how tough they are." Chen tweezed another dumpling and scowled at it. "If you're from some Chinatown kwoon, leave me alone."
"It is not I who am bringing grief to you, young Chen. I am only the weather vane warning of the coming storm. Your father observed Brumal and ninja in his fights with them. He incorporating many of their techniques and trickery into his own way of fighting. Along with the gift of the Dragon Pendant, Chen Lee-Sun was a formidable figure in the Midnight War."
Chen shoved the plate with two remaining dumplings away from him and leaned back in his chair. "Here we go again. It never ends. Let me guess, somebody wants to claim the Pendant or they think my father left me notebooks about Fang Lung. Enough already. If they want my property, they can come and try to take it but I am not answering challenges or meeting for duels. It's a waste of time."
The old man had been watching Chen. Very gently, he offered, "You are really troubled about a girl. Everything else annoys you because you can not see a solution to the real problem."
"Hah!" Chen unexpectedly grinned and looked boyish. "You are so much like her. You have the same perception. I can not get away with anything, either with her or with you."
"It is not a rare gift in the Midnight War," Grandfather Lao said. "Usually I am
right but I can be very wrong. I think you are unsure of your feelings for her and she sees it. But she cares for you completely."
"True! Very true. I don't know why I should even be talking about this. I don't know you. This is none of your business."
Lao finished his tea with a visible effort. "It is my nature to read what others think and feel. I believe your girl has the same ability. But take comfort. If she can see your uncertainty and still love you, then she also sees something in you worth perservering for."
"I hope she's right. I hope YOU'RE right," Chen said, claiming the last dumpling. "So it goes. Anyway, I suppose now I have no choice but to hear what warning you are going to give me. Is it the Winter Snow school? The White Web again? Who is going to give me a hard time?"
"There is a man in Manhattan looking for you. He is French, his name is Honore Vachon."
Chen scoffed. "A man? Just one man?"
III.
They headed west on foot. Chen was impressed by how straight Lao stood and how easily he walked with a cane and without tiring.
"I guess I have typical second generation problems," he was saying. "I can't read Chinese, I just recognize a few names and some basic words like 'men's room.' Chinese history and culture doesn't mean much to me, either. I've met lots of white people who know more about Lao-Tze or the Three Kingdoms than I ever will."
"You grew up in California, then."
"Yep, just outside San Diego. I went to a high school with maybe five other Asian kids in it. Nobody gave me a hard time, I don't remember being bullied."
Grandfather Lao smiled at that. "Even if they did not know you were a skilled fighter, they recognized your confidence."
At Eighth Avenue, Chen paused and gave the old man a searching gaze. "I've done a lot of talking about myself, Grandfather. What about you? How did you know my father?"
"I touched the outskirts of the Midnight War when I was your age," said Lao. "It seems like a different world. So much has changed. Chen Lee-Sun had so many exploits which went unrecorded. He was modest by nature. Perhaps it would be good if I wrote down some of your father's deeds so that his story is not completely unrecorded."
"Sounds good, but I think you aren't answering my question. Before we go any further, how about giving me the straight dope?"
"That is only fair. Very well. I worked in a Los Angeles hospital as a young man as an orderly and then in the blood analysis lab. I married at thirty and lost her only a few years ago to heart failure. We had no children. Between my pension and Social Security, I am comfortable in my closing years."
Chen shook his head. "Than you, Grandfather, but again you have not explained how you knew my father? What was your relationship with him?"
"I hesitate because it does not reflect well upon him," Lao said finally. "I have said before that I am a signpost for lost travelers and so it was back then. Chen Lee-Sun was a righteous man but no saint. He made some wrong decisions and hurt some people who trusted him. When we met, he was making amends. Is that enough?"
"It will do for right now, I guess. Let's get moving again. Where is the trap going to be set?"
The old man blinked. "Trap?"
"Oh sure. I've played this game for a few years now. We might as well get it over with."
"The man Vachon was seen in this neighborhood," Grandfather Lao replied after a moment, "and I think there is one place he will most likely be found." He began walked again toward Tenth Avenue. On the corner, a building made of old cracked bricks had a wide picture window on the ground floor which had been painted opaque white. In a semi-circle, ornate black letters read ORIENTAL SELF-DEFENSE and underneath that was a phone number.
Seeing this, Chen snorted. "This place is so old that 'Oriental' was still considered proper usage. All right, Grandfather Lao, you might as well go about your business. The bear trap is set and I'm going to step right on it."
"You misjudge me, young man."
"Yeah? No harm done either way. I'd have to meet this French fighter sooner or later anyway." Chen glanced at the door to the studio, then walked over to the street corner and placed both palms against the chipped old brick wall. "Here's something you don't see every day."
Taking and holding a deep breath, Chen Wong-Lai drew on the power of the Dragon Pendant. He passed through the wall as if it was a mere illusion or as if he had become insubstantial as a ghost. This was the source of the legend of the Dragon of Midnight. Chen inhaled and returned to normal as he stepped into a high-ceilinged room with hard mats on the floor and a few wooden chairs lined up against the far wall.
Giving a start at the unexpected appearance of this intruder, a very tall lanky man in white shorts and a loose black T-shirt wheeled around. Instantly, Chen's Kumundu training made him assess every detail of a possible opponent. The man was six feet four inches tall and just under two hundred pounds. He had a short torso but unusually long arms and legs, which showed high definition. Thirty-four or thirty-five years old, the man had a weatherbeaten face with dark eyes and black hair so short it might as well have been shaven completely.
No one else was in the studio. Chen had judged in a split-second that this man had excellent reflexes, balance and co-ordination. He was an opponent to take seriously. "Mr Vachon, right? I think you wanted to meet me."
IV.
Stepping to the center of the nearly empty studio, Honore Vachon was obviously scrutinizing Chen in his own more overt way. He hitched up his shorts a little and swung his arms back and forth to loosen up. "Mr Chen, there's nothing personal about this. I'm professional and I earn my pay."
The Dragon of Midnight turned slightly sideways, presenting his right arm and leg forward. Like a fencer, he led with his stronger side. "Those are Savate shoes."
"Oh, very good. I'm afraid my art is underappreciated in the gladiatorial world. I know about you, of course."
It was not known to outsiders, but Kumundu was only half about physical conditioning and sparring. Teacher Chael did not stress various types of punches or kicks, encouraging his students to move instinctively. His most important lesson was teaching how to read an opponent so thoroughly that a Kumundu master was already reacting when an enemy began an attack.
Vachon took a quick hopping steps forward and his long right leg snapped up in a roundhouse that would have driven his toes into Chen's liver with crippling effect. But at the instant the Savate master lifted his foot from the mat, Chen was responding as if he could read the man's mind. His right hand slapped Vachon's ankle upward, forcing the Savate master's leg straight up and at the same time, Chen kicked Vachon's supporting leg out from under him.
Although Vachon hit the floor hard on his back, he rolled and was immediately back up again, moving to the attack. He kicked again, starting with a basic high side kick to the chest but, before that could make contact, he drew his foot back and whipped it up at a steeper angle to go right at Chen's face.
Again, the Dragon of Midnight was already countering. He swayed his upper body back to let the kick whiz by an inch from his face and lunged in to blast a right hook that connected perfectly to the side of Vachon's jaw. The Savate man's knees gave way and he barely caught himself from falling again. As he straightened up, Chen cracked a left backfist to the nose that made Vachon reel back out of reach.
Although Chen could have pursued the dazed man, he gave Vachon a few seconds to recover. He could not have said why. This was too easy. The one aspect of duels he had enjoyed had been coping with a challenge, adapting to an opponent's strengths and finding ways to counter them. But for the last year, he had been fighting creatures of the night on an equal level. Melgarin, Gelydrim, even Skinwalkers had been enemies he could beat, if only with great effort.
But a normal, unmodified Human? Even one highly skilled and experienced? It was like a normal fighter going against someone who moved in slow motion. Chen wondered why he had let this clash go on as long as it had.
Vachon was moving in, light on his feet and drifting to one side. Chen could read the man's intentions as if he were shouting out loud what he was going to try. First a feint with the left foot, then a very quick front snap kick aimed at Chen's jaw. It would have worked against most opponents. The Dragon of Midnight leaped in to one side and kicked downward into the back of Vachon's knee. The Savate man went down and was completely exposed. Chen slammed down a hammer fist to the base of the man's neck and Vachon sprawled face down on the floor.
Again, Chen surprised himself by backpedaling out of reach when he could easily have finished the man off. Vachon was taking a while to get back up, rubbing his neck and panting. The Dragon of Midnight lowered his hands and said, "What's the point of all this? You're going to get seriously hurt. Whatever you're getting paid, is it worth a few weeks in the hospital?"
The Savate fighter managed to stand, shook himself and tried to sound unhurt. "Lucky shots don't win."
"Fine, be that way."
Vachon lunged, throwing a fine left jab to set himself up for the follow-up right. But Chen was already in too close, pivotting so his back was up against his opponent. He seized the Savate man's arm out straight and drove his free elbow into Vachon's rib cage with an audible cracking sound, then let the Frenchman fall again.
"Take your time thinking the situation over," Chen said.
With one arm dislocated and three cracked ribs, Honore Vachon could do little more than wheeze and prop himself up on one elbow. But he still doggedly tried to get his legs up under him.
"I know you're not going to tell me who hired you," Chen went on in a surprisingly mellow tone. "Mercenaries have their reputations to protect, but at least I know about that old man you sent to drag me here."
"What old man? Are you crazy?"
"Yeah, deny everything. I bet he's with the Winter Snow school, right?"
Pushing against a wall with his good arm, wincing with each breath, Vachon was on his feet again. Despite all his discipline, he was groaning. "No old man. I work alone. You're wrong."
"So you say. You're not going to try to attack again, are you?"
The Savate man managed a grin. "I already took the first half of the payment." He lurched toward the Dragon of Midnight, raising a fist for a hopeless roundhouse punch. Chen stopped him with a light jab to the nose that flung Vachon down flat on his back again.
"Stay down," Chen said. "It's over. And don't come after me again. You not only can't beat me, you can't even slow me down."
Despite everything, Vachon was trying to get over on his side to rise again. It was hopeless. Chen looked around and saw a plain black telephone on the floor next to the chairs. The cord wasn't long enough. He bent over, grabbed Vachon by one ankle and dragged him over next to the phone, stepping back before any futile attempt at a kick could begin.
The Dragon of Midnight had seldom felt such conflicting emotions. "Listen. I'm going about my business. I think you should call for an ambulance. But you might phone your boss instead, it's up to you. Or you can call the old man and yell at him."
"What is with you?" Vachon hissed as he fumbled for the phone. "There is no old man. At least you didn't kill me, Dragon. For that, I'll return my fee and take the loss to my reputation."
"That's enough for now, I guess." Chen turned and headed for the door, then paused. "It's funny but I always wanted to see what Savate was all about. Maybe in a year or two, we'll meet again under better circumstances." And he stepped out onto the street, closing the door behind him.
At the corner was a green metal bench next to a round BUS STOP sign. Sitting there, leaning forward with his head down, was Grandfather Lao. The old man's body language was so forlorn that Chen felt a pang of melancholy himself. What was wrong with him today, he wondered. Normally he was so focussed and single-minded. What was stirring inside him?
Silently, Chen plopped down next to the old man, who barely turned his head. After a minute, the Dragon of Midnight said, "What do you think I should do?"
"It is Spring. The world is coming back to life, buds are opening, soon flowers will bloom. Is it time for you to do the same?"
"I knew you'd have something useful to say," Chen replied. "Yeah. My whole life has been learning how to fight, learning better ways to beat the crap out of people. But I think I'm ready for something else."
"How brave are you really?"
Chen laughed. "Brave enough to look Ming in the eyes and tell her I love her, too. Coming right out with it. Then we'll see what happens."
Grandfather Lao patted Chen's knee with a gnarled hand. "You have set your feet on a steep difficult road with a treasure at the end."
4/4/2023
4/3/1989
I.
Fuming, Chen Wong-Lai slammed the door to his quarters with unnecessary emphasis.
He seldom stayed in these rooms at the KDF headquarters, keeping little more than a couple changes of clothes and a few books he caught up on when manning night monitor duty. Keeping his own tiny apartment on Ventnor Street had been important to his independence.
Still under thirty, Chen was as fit as any Olympic athlete. Not only he had studied his father's secret Fang Lung style, he had been taught Kumundu by Teacher Chael at Tel Shai for the past two years. A few inches under six feet tall and lean as a runner, Chen was more than a match for opponents much larger thaan himself. At the moment, with anger making him tense up, the new Dragon of Midnight moved more stiffly than his normal smooth catlike motions.
He caught himself breathing quickly. Chen stepped to the center of his room and stood with feet together and fists at his side. He bowed to Teacher Chael, farther away than miles could measure, then began his DohRa form. This started with poses that became more difficult to hold, then shifted into slow motions which became kicks and blocks and punches. As he warmed up, his strikes blurred out quicker and quicker as he seemed to be fighting multiple imaginary enemies. Twenty minutes passed. Chen's movements slowed again, became stances which gradually cooled down in the same salute that had begun the form.
The DohRa forms were individually developed for each student by Chael and modified constantly as they improved. Chen was breathing deeply and evenly. His temper had been reined in by the concentration. He went into his bathroom, stripping down and tossing his clothing in a hamper in one corner. After a steaming hot shower, the Dragon of Midnight emerged and examined his reflection in the mirror over the sink. Shaving was hardly necessary. Chen had tried to grow a beard once without noticeable success. He had been letting his coarse black hair grow recently at its covered the tops of his ears and reached the base of his neck.
Even in the shower, he kept the flat Dragon Pendant on its fine-linked chain around his neck. Two inches high, it represented a stylized Imperial wingless dragon rearing on its hind legs with its muzzle gaping. As he toweled off, he carefully dried the ancient talisman as well.
It was a warm April afternoon. Chen tugged on snug black jeans, a white T-shirt and a blue Chambray shirt he left unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled back. Thick cotton socks and white sneakers completed the outfit. He frowned at the closet door where what looked like a leotard of wet silk with a glossy sheen was hanging. He was sick of wearing that flexible armor under his clothes every day all day. He was sick of carrying the anesthetic dart gun holstered under a jacket. Chen felt so annoyed by the world he almost left the Link on his dresser but realized that would be going too far. The team might depend on him being available. He grudgingly clipped it to his belt. Wallet, keys, some cash went into his pockets but none of the miniature gadgets KDF members invariably carried. One day without carrying an arsenal was not too much to ask.
Chen hurried down the stairs from the second hall to the front hall of headquarters. To his right, the office door was open. As he reached the bottom step, he saw Jeremy Bane glance up from the big oak desk beneath the hand-painted map of the world. "Hey, Chen,"said the Dire Wolf from behind a shambles of loose pieces of paper.
"Think I'll go for a little run."
"It's a great day for it," Bane agreed. "I only wish the paperwork would do itself."
"You can reach me if anything comes up," said the Dragon of Midnight, already heading for the door.
"Enjoy. We're having roast turkey catered at six, remember."
Chen left the building, stepping down to East 38th Street. He did feel like running. Swinging right, he took off at an easy lope he could keep up for hours. Being out in the open air helped his mood. Sometimes he realized how patient his teammates were with him. Chen was not the easiest person to get along with, but at least his moods blew over quickly.
At 42nd Street, he turned left and had to wait for the lights to cross Fifth Avenue. He slowed to a walk and paused at the front steps of the Public Library. Little kids were having their pictures taken by the stone lions. Their giggling and posing made him wistful. Sitting on the steps, a blonde college age girl was sketching with charcoal on an oversized pad. A fat middle-aged man was lost in a newspaper. Chen sighed audibly. None of them knew about the brutal Midnight War that raged unseen around them. They lived in a protected bubble of blissful ignorance.
Then he noticed the white-bearded Asian man staring at him from twenty feet away. He was tall and thin, wearing an old-fashioned business suit with his hands deep in the trouser pockets, the shirt top button undone with no necktie. At least seventy, he had longish hair and a neat beard that were both pure white. Most striking were the spiky eyebrows over deep-sunken eyes with a single inner fold.
Chen could not help being annoyed at that steady stare. "What are you looking at?"
"A lost traveler looking for a signpost," came the reply.
II.
"Oh, save that stuff for fortune cookies," Chen snorted, but with a tinge of amusement in his voice.
"You resemble your father physically but you do not have his unity of spirit."
Stepping closer, giving the elder a dubious scrutiny, Chen scoffed. "Is this a con game? Are you going to try to sell me something?"
"The son of Chen Lee-Sun already wears an object of great value, I can sense it from here."
With the constant traffic noise, no one was close enough to hear them converse. Even so, Chen stepped closer to the old man. "You've got my attention. What's the deal?"
"The shadow of the past hangs over you," said the white-bearded man. "I am Lao Liang-Hai. Many call me Grandfather Lao out of courtesy."
"All right, Grandfather. I'll play along. Are you telling me you knew my father?"
The old man nodded and gestured to his left. "Come, let us sit and talk. There is so much you must learn." He led the way over to Bryant Park behind the library. There were two rows of stalls facing each across a walkway, selling tourist items such as T-shirts, scented candles, posters and booklets. A wide variety of fast food was also available. Grandfather Lao indicated Chen should be seated at one of the round metal tables with attached chairs, then went to the nearby booth.
Despite his strong inclination to suspect traps and ambushes, Chen found he was more intrigued than anything else. As a KDF member and Tel Shai knight, he had many murderous enemies and was in a state of constant wariness. There was no reason to trust this stranger. And yet, Chen found he was not as suspicious as he should be.
Grandfather Lao came over with a cardboard tray holding a dozen pork dumplings and two styrofoam cups of plain black tea. Disposable chopsticks had been including. He lowered himself gingerly to face Chen and began to eat. Chen followed suit. Eating together was a basic way of breaking tension and building slight trust.
Chewing slowly and thoroughly, the old man began, "Your father was already retired when I saw him last. Robert Hawk had died and with him went the Sting. Chen Lee-Sun had become less and less active by then. You were barely ten years old, and your parents found you a handful."
"It's no secret that Hawk was the Sting," Chen admitted. "A reporter found out and there had been some books and magazine articles but by then wartime crimefighters were old news. Same for my father. Anyone who was interested could find out he had been the Dragon of Midnight but the world had moved on."
Grandfather Lao took a sip of the tea and frowned. "This is awful. It's hot water that has only be grazed by a tea leaf. Yes, when I knew your father, he had already begun instructing you in his personal Fang Lung style."
"Oh no. No more gung fu trouble! I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of getting punched in the face and kicking people and all that nonsense. And for what? Ego and vanity. Guys determined to prove how tough they are." Chen tweezed another dumpling and scowled at it. "If you're from some Chinatown kwoon, leave me alone."
"It is not I who am bringing grief to you, young Chen. I am only the weather vane warning of the coming storm. Your father observed Brumal and ninja in his fights with them. He incorporating many of their techniques and trickery into his own way of fighting. Along with the gift of the Dragon Pendant, Chen Lee-Sun was a formidable figure in the Midnight War."
Chen shoved the plate with two remaining dumplings away from him and leaned back in his chair. "Here we go again. It never ends. Let me guess, somebody wants to claim the Pendant or they think my father left me notebooks about Fang Lung. Enough already. If they want my property, they can come and try to take it but I am not answering challenges or meeting for duels. It's a waste of time."
The old man had been watching Chen. Very gently, he offered, "You are really troubled about a girl. Everything else annoys you because you can not see a solution to the real problem."
"Hah!" Chen unexpectedly grinned and looked boyish. "You are so much like her. You have the same perception. I can not get away with anything, either with her or with you."
"It is not a rare gift in the Midnight War," Grandfather Lao said. "Usually I am
right but I can be very wrong. I think you are unsure of your feelings for her and she sees it. But she cares for you completely."
"True! Very true. I don't know why I should even be talking about this. I don't know you. This is none of your business."
Lao finished his tea with a visible effort. "It is my nature to read what others think and feel. I believe your girl has the same ability. But take comfort. If she can see your uncertainty and still love you, then she also sees something in you worth perservering for."
"I hope she's right. I hope YOU'RE right," Chen said, claiming the last dumpling. "So it goes. Anyway, I suppose now I have no choice but to hear what warning you are going to give me. Is it the Winter Snow school? The White Web again? Who is going to give me a hard time?"
"There is a man in Manhattan looking for you. He is French, his name is Honore Vachon."
Chen scoffed. "A man? Just one man?"
III.
They headed west on foot. Chen was impressed by how straight Lao stood and how easily he walked with a cane and without tiring.
"I guess I have typical second generation problems," he was saying. "I can't read Chinese, I just recognize a few names and some basic words like 'men's room.' Chinese history and culture doesn't mean much to me, either. I've met lots of white people who know more about Lao-Tze or the Three Kingdoms than I ever will."
"You grew up in California, then."
"Yep, just outside San Diego. I went to a high school with maybe five other Asian kids in it. Nobody gave me a hard time, I don't remember being bullied."
Grandfather Lao smiled at that. "Even if they did not know you were a skilled fighter, they recognized your confidence."
At Eighth Avenue, Chen paused and gave the old man a searching gaze. "I've done a lot of talking about myself, Grandfather. What about you? How did you know my father?"
"I touched the outskirts of the Midnight War when I was your age," said Lao. "It seems like a different world. So much has changed. Chen Lee-Sun had so many exploits which went unrecorded. He was modest by nature. Perhaps it would be good if I wrote down some of your father's deeds so that his story is not completely unrecorded."
"Sounds good, but I think you aren't answering my question. Before we go any further, how about giving me the straight dope?"
"That is only fair. Very well. I worked in a Los Angeles hospital as a young man as an orderly and then in the blood analysis lab. I married at thirty and lost her only a few years ago to heart failure. We had no children. Between my pension and Social Security, I am comfortable in my closing years."
Chen shook his head. "Than you, Grandfather, but again you have not explained how you knew my father? What was your relationship with him?"
"I hesitate because it does not reflect well upon him," Lao said finally. "I have said before that I am a signpost for lost travelers and so it was back then. Chen Lee-Sun was a righteous man but no saint. He made some wrong decisions and hurt some people who trusted him. When we met, he was making amends. Is that enough?"
"It will do for right now, I guess. Let's get moving again. Where is the trap going to be set?"
The old man blinked. "Trap?"
"Oh sure. I've played this game for a few years now. We might as well get it over with."
"The man Vachon was seen in this neighborhood," Grandfather Lao replied after a moment, "and I think there is one place he will most likely be found." He began walked again toward Tenth Avenue. On the corner, a building made of old cracked bricks had a wide picture window on the ground floor which had been painted opaque white. In a semi-circle, ornate black letters read ORIENTAL SELF-DEFENSE and underneath that was a phone number.
Seeing this, Chen snorted. "This place is so old that 'Oriental' was still considered proper usage. All right, Grandfather Lao, you might as well go about your business. The bear trap is set and I'm going to step right on it."
"You misjudge me, young man."
"Yeah? No harm done either way. I'd have to meet this French fighter sooner or later anyway." Chen glanced at the door to the studio, then walked over to the street corner and placed both palms against the chipped old brick wall. "Here's something you don't see every day."
Taking and holding a deep breath, Chen Wong-Lai drew on the power of the Dragon Pendant. He passed through the wall as if it was a mere illusion or as if he had become insubstantial as a ghost. This was the source of the legend of the Dragon of Midnight. Chen inhaled and returned to normal as he stepped into a high-ceilinged room with hard mats on the floor and a few wooden chairs lined up against the far wall.
Giving a start at the unexpected appearance of this intruder, a very tall lanky man in white shorts and a loose black T-shirt wheeled around. Instantly, Chen's Kumundu training made him assess every detail of a possible opponent. The man was six feet four inches tall and just under two hundred pounds. He had a short torso but unusually long arms and legs, which showed high definition. Thirty-four or thirty-five years old, the man had a weatherbeaten face with dark eyes and black hair so short it might as well have been shaven completely.
No one else was in the studio. Chen had judged in a split-second that this man had excellent reflexes, balance and co-ordination. He was an opponent to take seriously. "Mr Vachon, right? I think you wanted to meet me."
IV.
Stepping to the center of the nearly empty studio, Honore Vachon was obviously scrutinizing Chen in his own more overt way. He hitched up his shorts a little and swung his arms back and forth to loosen up. "Mr Chen, there's nothing personal about this. I'm professional and I earn my pay."
The Dragon of Midnight turned slightly sideways, presenting his right arm and leg forward. Like a fencer, he led with his stronger side. "Those are Savate shoes."
"Oh, very good. I'm afraid my art is underappreciated in the gladiatorial world. I know about you, of course."
It was not known to outsiders, but Kumundu was only half about physical conditioning and sparring. Teacher Chael did not stress various types of punches or kicks, encouraging his students to move instinctively. His most important lesson was teaching how to read an opponent so thoroughly that a Kumundu master was already reacting when an enemy began an attack.
Vachon took a quick hopping steps forward and his long right leg snapped up in a roundhouse that would have driven his toes into Chen's liver with crippling effect. But at the instant the Savate master lifted his foot from the mat, Chen was responding as if he could read the man's mind. His right hand slapped Vachon's ankle upward, forcing the Savate master's leg straight up and at the same time, Chen kicked Vachon's supporting leg out from under him.
Although Vachon hit the floor hard on his back, he rolled and was immediately back up again, moving to the attack. He kicked again, starting with a basic high side kick to the chest but, before that could make contact, he drew his foot back and whipped it up at a steeper angle to go right at Chen's face.
Again, the Dragon of Midnight was already countering. He swayed his upper body back to let the kick whiz by an inch from his face and lunged in to blast a right hook that connected perfectly to the side of Vachon's jaw. The Savate man's knees gave way and he barely caught himself from falling again. As he straightened up, Chen cracked a left backfist to the nose that made Vachon reel back out of reach.
Although Chen could have pursued the dazed man, he gave Vachon a few seconds to recover. He could not have said why. This was too easy. The one aspect of duels he had enjoyed had been coping with a challenge, adapting to an opponent's strengths and finding ways to counter them. But for the last year, he had been fighting creatures of the night on an equal level. Melgarin, Gelydrim, even Skinwalkers had been enemies he could beat, if only with great effort.
But a normal, unmodified Human? Even one highly skilled and experienced? It was like a normal fighter going against someone who moved in slow motion. Chen wondered why he had let this clash go on as long as it had.
Vachon was moving in, light on his feet and drifting to one side. Chen could read the man's intentions as if he were shouting out loud what he was going to try. First a feint with the left foot, then a very quick front snap kick aimed at Chen's jaw. It would have worked against most opponents. The Dragon of Midnight leaped in to one side and kicked downward into the back of Vachon's knee. The Savate man went down and was completely exposed. Chen slammed down a hammer fist to the base of the man's neck and Vachon sprawled face down on the floor.
Again, Chen surprised himself by backpedaling out of reach when he could easily have finished the man off. Vachon was taking a while to get back up, rubbing his neck and panting. The Dragon of Midnight lowered his hands and said, "What's the point of all this? You're going to get seriously hurt. Whatever you're getting paid, is it worth a few weeks in the hospital?"
The Savate fighter managed to stand, shook himself and tried to sound unhurt. "Lucky shots don't win."
"Fine, be that way."
Vachon lunged, throwing a fine left jab to set himself up for the follow-up right. But Chen was already in too close, pivotting so his back was up against his opponent. He seized the Savate man's arm out straight and drove his free elbow into Vachon's rib cage with an audible cracking sound, then let the Frenchman fall again.
"Take your time thinking the situation over," Chen said.
With one arm dislocated and three cracked ribs, Honore Vachon could do little more than wheeze and prop himself up on one elbow. But he still doggedly tried to get his legs up under him.
"I know you're not going to tell me who hired you," Chen went on in a surprisingly mellow tone. "Mercenaries have their reputations to protect, but at least I know about that old man you sent to drag me here."
"What old man? Are you crazy?"
"Yeah, deny everything. I bet he's with the Winter Snow school, right?"
Pushing against a wall with his good arm, wincing with each breath, Vachon was on his feet again. Despite all his discipline, he was groaning. "No old man. I work alone. You're wrong."
"So you say. You're not going to try to attack again, are you?"
The Savate man managed a grin. "I already took the first half of the payment." He lurched toward the Dragon of Midnight, raising a fist for a hopeless roundhouse punch. Chen stopped him with a light jab to the nose that flung Vachon down flat on his back again.
"Stay down," Chen said. "It's over. And don't come after me again. You not only can't beat me, you can't even slow me down."
Despite everything, Vachon was trying to get over on his side to rise again. It was hopeless. Chen looked around and saw a plain black telephone on the floor next to the chairs. The cord wasn't long enough. He bent over, grabbed Vachon by one ankle and dragged him over next to the phone, stepping back before any futile attempt at a kick could begin.
The Dragon of Midnight had seldom felt such conflicting emotions. "Listen. I'm going about my business. I think you should call for an ambulance. But you might phone your boss instead, it's up to you. Or you can call the old man and yell at him."
"What is with you?" Vachon hissed as he fumbled for the phone. "There is no old man. At least you didn't kill me, Dragon. For that, I'll return my fee and take the loss to my reputation."
"That's enough for now, I guess." Chen turned and headed for the door, then paused. "It's funny but I always wanted to see what Savate was all about. Maybe in a year or two, we'll meet again under better circumstances." And he stepped out onto the street, closing the door behind him.
At the corner was a green metal bench next to a round BUS STOP sign. Sitting there, leaning forward with his head down, was Grandfather Lao. The old man's body language was so forlorn that Chen felt a pang of melancholy himself. What was wrong with him today, he wondered. Normally he was so focussed and single-minded. What was stirring inside him?
Silently, Chen plopped down next to the old man, who barely turned his head. After a minute, the Dragon of Midnight said, "What do you think I should do?"
"It is Spring. The world is coming back to life, buds are opening, soon flowers will bloom. Is it time for you to do the same?"
"I knew you'd have something useful to say," Chen replied. "Yeah. My whole life has been learning how to fight, learning better ways to beat the crap out of people. But I think I'm ready for something else."
"How brave are you really?"
Chen laughed. "Brave enough to look Ming in the eyes and tell her I love her, too. Coming right out with it. Then we'll see what happens."
Grandfather Lao patted Chen's knee with a gnarled hand. "You have set your feet on a steep difficult road with a treasure at the end."
4/4/2023
