She entered a large white chamber, big enough to hold a thousand people. It had several marble columns that rose into the high ceilings, painted to mimic a turbulent sky. The floor was made of highly polished marble as well. Her boots echoed loudly in the empty chamber. She took a long appraising look around her. At one end of the room there were double doors made of solid brass. At the other end there were large latticed windows covered with sheer red curtains that blew with a gentle wind. Thousands of candles flickered in numerous recesses in the walls that ran down each end of the chamber. Large lanterns mounted on ornate stands were positioned all about the room. In the far right corner was the small wooden door she had entered from.
As she turned, she analyzed the area, taking in all the details. Another room devoid of any furniture. The darkness of the painted ceiling, the brightness of the white room below it, were a striking contrast against the brass doors and bloodred curtains. Once she came full circle, she found herself staring at the seated figure of a warrior monk in meditation in front of the windows. The red curtains seemed to envelope him, surround him, caress him, as if they were his lovers.
He remained still; his hands rested casually on his knees, a glittering sword lay on the floor beside him. His head was not completely shaven, but his hair was cropped very close to his scalp. It was almost white in color, although he was not an old man. He too was shirtless, his skin a golden brown. He was all lean and sinewy muscles.
Kira stayed where she was and waited. She had no intention of approaching him.
A long moment later, he opened his eyes and Kira was mesmerized by their icy blue color, like the winter sky. Vivid and beautiful, but so very cold.
“So you are the Dragon Musado,” he said. “I am surprised. I did not expect you to get past my brother. You have impressed us all.”
“Where’s my cousin? Where’s Fulang? I don’t have time to waste,” she said. “Tell me what you’ve done with them!”
The monk didn’t respond, just studied her with an insolent gaze.
Kira could feel her temper rising. These monks were arrogant and rude. She would have spat on the floor but she wouldn’t stoop to their level. Unwilling to waste any more time, she turned away and headed toward the brass doors.
A dagger sliced through the air, skimming her hair, and buried itself deep into the wall near Kira’s head.
“You will not see your cousin unless you defeat the best of the temple monks,” he said.
He rose to his feet in one fluid motion.
“I see you brought your sword,” he continued. “Good. Let us begin our dance.”
With a resigned sigh, Kira unsheathed her weapon.
Within minutes it was clear how good he was. He went immediately on the offensive, forcing Kira into a flurry of counterblows that sent her backtracking across the floor. The attack was nonstop; she had no time to think, no time to do anything but block and try to land her own killing blows. Already tired from her encounter with the spear monk, Kira knew she was in trouble. These monks were not fooling around. They wanted her dead.
“Use all your senses, little tiger.”
Her father’s voice whispered in her head. What did it mean? Kira went on the offensive, sending several rapid-fire blows that he deflected with ease. She blocked and parried furiously, but could see she was boring him. Anger flamed within her, rushing her next strike. And then she felt the cut rip into her thigh. Blood was now dripping down into her boot. Feinting low, she lashed out with her right foot, tripping him.
In that moment her father’s words suddenly made sense. She needed to use her strengths to give herself the upper hand.
As the monk rose smoothly back onto his feet, Kira raced about the room, cutting down the stands holding all six lanterns. She sliced off half of the red curtain and whipped it at the candles, extinguishing nearly all the flames on one side of the room. Using the fabric, she whipped it at the monk’s feet, sending him flying. She then thrashed the curtain again, taking out the rest of the candles. The room was now in total darkness.
In the dark, her tiger eyes switched on and she advanced upon the monk. He heard her approach, fighting blindly. But now the advantage was with Kira. She approached with slow caution, knowing he would use his other senses. As she circled him, he whirled around, feeling her presence as she closed in. But in the darkness, his strike flew wide and he could not see the blow that disarmed him, sending his sword flying across the room.
“I can see your fiendish yellow eyes,” he snarled.
From his belt, he took out a dagger and threw it at her. She knocked it out of the air with her sword and mule-kicked him to the ground. She held the point of her sword to his neck.
“Go ahead and kill me, filthy Musado,” he spat in his rage.
“I am done with you,” she said.
At her words, the brass double doors opened, flooding light into the room again. She looked back and was shocked to find that the monk was gone. Quickly searching the room, she saw that he was nowhere to be seen. Kira froze, disturbed by the demonlike magic. It reminded her of the daimyo and his evil powers. This was magic that was not of this world.