The Angkhora Warriors

Part 9: Old Monk

Then Purple approached her again. Again, flying back and forth, trying to tell her something. She followed the butterfly once more until she heard the river. She darted through the trees and leaned over the water to take several drinks. Mid sip, she froze in place when she noticed an old man with a long white beard floating on the water, legs folded like a god, deep in meditation. A whirlpool swirled calmly and powerfully below him.

The man seemed to sense her presence and turned around. He and Dinda locked eyes. She hid behind a bush and after a moment slowly took another peek. He was still there, floating, the current running past him, and she could make out a slight smile on the old man's face. When he started floating toward her, she reached into her pack and pulled out the dagger.

"There's no need for that, little one," the old man floated slowly toward her.

Dinda held the dagger up even as the butterflies left her and fluttered around the old man. She expected the poisonous powder to begin falling, but the man simply held out his hand and Purple landed with soft grace in his palm.

"I see you've made friends with the black swarm," the man said. He observed her more closely, taking a long moment to look at her black lips. "They must feel that you have something in common with them."

"The black swarm? Is that what they're called?" Dinda said. "I was being chased by men and they rescued me. They have been protecting me."

The man studied Dinda and seemed to sense that she had been through an ordeal. She surely looked tired, and her clothes were dirty and torn. It was painfully obvious that she'd been running from something. Or someone.

"You look like you could use some rest," he said.

She looked at the old man. Suspicious.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance. If you follow me to my home, I can offer you a hot meal, some tea, and a place to rest." Dinda studied him, wary. No one had ever been this nice to her. Except Sriga.

She did not answer the old monk.

"Perhaps your friends can help you decide," he said, before walking over to the black swarm. "Wait, what are you doing? You shouldn't... maybe it's..." but before she could finish, the man found himself in the middle of the butterflies. There were so many of them flying around that it was almost impossible to see him. "Now do you see why they are called the swarm?" he asked. "Take it from your friends here, trust me. I have no intention to harm you."

Dinda stared at the man, wondering if she should take a chance. Trust was something earned, not a right upon demand. But he was correct, she did trust the swarm, Purple and the butterflies had saved her. Surely they would not guide her to danger now. The old man smiled as the butterflies dispersed again, giving him a clear line of sight to the river. "Come," he invited Dinda to the river. Once he got to the water's edge he looked at her again. "It is within our nature to help each other. It is only through the corruption of outside forces that we become untrustworthy and diabolical. You are free to follow me if you feel that you can trust me. Or you may stay out here alone, running from your pursuers. Whatever you decide, I wish you well." He bowed his head with respect toward her and then turned and walked toward the river.

"But..." Dinda was confused. "Where are you going?" she wondered aloud.

"Home," he answered.

Then, amazingly, he walked on top of the water. Dinda's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. The sound of his feet splashing on the surface of the river confused her even more. "How is that possible?" He just turned and smiled and continued walking. Dinda rushed to the river's edge and carefully stuck her foot out toward the water. She slowly set it down on the surface of the water and watched it rippled. She pulled her foot out and tried again. It did not sink.