Excavations and Enlightenment (A sequel to "Caveats and Cliches")

Chapter 5: Easier Said Than Done

The car ride back to the hotel is filled with tension. Toby is backing up Easton's impulsivity one hundred percent, and they are confering in low tones about what to do when we get to the dojo tomorrow. Sarah is irritated with them both, which is understandable. For all their "you'll have our backs" talk, there has been precious little consideration of our opinions and almost no consultation. She's staring out the window, nibbling at a thumbnail and muttering to herself; and I'm just along for the ride. Once in our hotel room, I take a seat and watch her expectantly. I know it won't be long before she tells me what's on her mind. It takes her less than a minute of pacing.

"This is ridiculous! What are we doing? Chasing after mythical artifacts for nameless bad guys? This whole thing smells fishier than a bad sushi bar! What's really going on here?"

Sarah stops, placing her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes. She's in full detective mode now. I offer no comment. As much as I want to side with my wife, a very selfish and insecure part of me wants to keep this going to gain favor with my brother.

The next morning Easton and Toby are at our door the moment Pema's dojo opens. Sarah is still touchy, so I slip down to the lobby and grab our breakfast to go. I make sure she has a large coffee with an accompanying cinnamon roll. Heaven help us if she were to get really hungry while we were on this escapade. Moments later we are again crammed in the back of Toby's car, weaving through traffic. Sarah smiles when she sees the cinnamon roll; it's one of her favorite pastries. I silently congratulate myself on averting disaster.

The dojo where Pema did her martial arts is an impressive looking establishment. High ceilings with lots of windows, panels of wood and bamboo on the walls; everything is clean and bright. There is a desk near the entrance and a few assorted wall racks displaying combat weaponry, and what looks like an entrance to the back of the structure. There is little else. Though it is open, there doesn't seem to be anyone around. Amusingly, Easton and Toby caution us to stay back while they go find someone to ask about Pema. Ridiculous, no one is better in a fight than me. Perhaps it is my people skills. They have been described as off-putting. I can't imagine why.

When they are near the door at the other end, a man appears from the back and calls out a greeting. When he gets closer to them, Toby and Easton launch into animated discussion. A moment later, the man stiffens. He takes a couple steps back and crouches into a fighting stance, snatching a tapered staff from a display behind him. I jerk a similar looking staff from the rack closest to us and sprint the length of the building. Easton and Toby are back to back with hands raised in surrender as the man circles them. Just as he raises his staff, I slide between him and my brothers, blocking the impending strike. A battle ensues, and I'm amazed at the man's speed and strength. But my heightened senses serve me well, warning me of shifts in balance and pace. I'm able to hold my own against his unique fighting style while appearing to be off balance enough that he will pursue me and leave Easton and Toby alone. Well, perhaps I really am a bit off balance. Fighting a master of martial arts with a wooden staff is considerably different from fencing or military combat. The man lands a few lucky blows to my arms and wrist. He's probably trying to separate me from the staff, but I'm familiar with that technique and refuse to let go. Unfortunately, his next assault is trickier. He feints towards my arm, but instead drives the butt of his staff into my ribcage. I grunt in pain, and stumble, thrown off of my stride. The man pushes forward, about to land a much more detrimental strike. Sarah pops up from behind the desk with another staff in her hands. She drops to her knees and takes a baseball bat swing at the man's knees from behind. His legs give out and he crashes to the floor on his back, the wind knocked out of him. I tower over him, my staff inches from his face.

"Why did you attack my brothers?" I say in a low growl, still smarting from the jab to the ribs.

"I won't allow thieves to destroy Pema's work!" He gasps.