The Shore of Monster Boys

Chena Yang stood on the deck of her ship, arms neatly folded. Draped in her bright red admiral's robe, she surveyed her fleet, and for the thousandth time she swelled with pride.

Dozens of junks, each one hundreds of feet long and with a rudder five times the height of a woman, rode the easterly winds across the great ocean. The mighty red square sails of the junks shaded the squat, slope-roofed grain ships, which carried enough supplies to feed Chena Yang's three-hundred-strong crew for months.

With a smile, she turned back the cabin and entered the admiral's quarters, where a shrine to the ocean god, one of the very few male deities, overlooked her bed, and a painting of the empress stared back at her with ladylike dispassion.

Chena Yang was no stranger to the sea. For twenty-three years, she had had the honor of sailing to the empire's many client states to receive homage and tribute for the empress. But now, for the first time in her life, she had been ordered to go further- to sail across the great ocean and find new nations to trade with. None of them, of course, could be as great and rich as her homeland, but still there could be much to gain.

Chena Yang sat down in her silken hammock, staring wistfully at the empty stretch of floor in the middle of her quarters. It was just enough room, she mused, for a statue. At the next great city-state they found, she would commission a sculpture to commemorate the discovery, and she would place it here, where she would see it every morning and night.

Eventually, Chena Yang decided that she desired a walk around the deck. But when she opened the door to her quarters, she found her second-in-command, Unajin Li. The small, thin-faced woman waited with her head bowed in observance of the taboo on common crewwomen entering the admiral's quarters.

"Admiral," said Unajin Li, with a full, unabbreviated bow, "we have sighted land."

Chena Yang stood up straight. Finally, it had happened. Her navigators and cartographers and weather-readers had foretold this, and now it was happening. Chena Yang had never doubted them; although she would never say so in presence of the haughty nobility, they were the most skilled women in the empire.

Hurrying out to the bow of the ship, Chena Yang peered into the distance. With just her bare eyes, she could see it: a fuzzy black coast, stretching out in either direction as far as the fog allowed her to see it. She sniffed the air, and she could have sworn that she could smell the grass.

"Magnificent," she said. "Prepare a landing party. I want woodcutters, builders, harquebusiers and at least two horsewomen with me."

"At once, Admiral!"

Less than half an hour later, the landing boat launched, with Chena Yang at the head and her whole complement behind her, equipped and ready. The horses pattered and whinnied, stirring themselves into a frenzy, and the women were not much calmer. They were fine sailors, all of them, but after six weeks without sight of land, uncharted territory made them anxious. It was inevitable.

The shore grew in the distance, resolving into mountains bordered by trees denser than Chena Yang had ever seen. Instead of grass, she smelled the sweet musk of flowers.

At last, the boat landed, hull hissing onto the sand. The horses leapt out, and the whole company cooperated to haul the flat wooden hulk out of the water. For a moment, Chena Yang allowed her crew to drink in the beauty before them. Thick jungle fought with the seaside rocks, with vines and insects and nimble little furry things twisting between the trees. Great, grim mountains rose above the canopy in the distance, blue and hazy. Mosquitoes swarmed thick in the air.

Before Chena Yang had to order them to, her crew set about their jobs. Soon, a landing area was cleared, with the first structures coming up around a fire pit. A scouting team disappeared into the forest.

The scouts were led by Bortujai, a woman who hailed from the northern steppe provinces. Her people were a rugged kind, masterful archers who taught their daughters to ride horses and allowed their men to roam the world freely, rather than keeping them on the homestead where civilized men belonged.

Minutes later, Bortujai returned, flustered and covered in leaves, skin lined with scratches that she barely seemed to notice. "I can't see anything, Admiral," she grunted. "The foliage is too thick. We're safe as far as I can tell."

"Then we'll have to post a full guard," said Chena Yang.

"Admiral, there is something else. There appear to be natives here. I've seen scratches on tree bark that don't look natural, and there was an arrangement of sticks that I think was supposed to be an animal trap. And I found this." She opened her hand to reveal a scratched stone triangle.

"A spearhead," said Chena Yang. "You've done well, Bortujai. As soon as our base is set up, we'll investigate. You and your women, help with the border fence, then you have my permission to rest."

"Yes, Admiral."

With folded arms, Chena Yang watched her crew execute their work. When they finished, dozens of trees had been felled, and a fine wooden fort stood on the soil, lined with lit torches and armed sentries. A full complement of shelters stood within the fence, complete with a latrine that drained into the ocean.

"Now," said Chena Yang, "to investigate the natives. Bortujai, you will accompany me. And I want Yiang Keng and Muzha Shen as well."

Yiang Keng appeared instantly. A young woman, barely more than twenty years of age, she had volunteered to come on this mission and had never looked back. At every turn, she jumped at the chance to prove herself, and Chena Yang loved her for it.

Muzha Shen came next, draped in heavy cloth armor, with her old army cap spilling over her broad, smiling face. Her curved sword, forged for a war that had ended decades ago, hung proud and ready at her hip. In age, she more than doubled Yiang Keng, which made her one of the few crew members who was older than Chena Yang, but the vitality of her youth was still plain in her strong step, strong voice and strong will.

"The three of you," said Chena Yang, "Go back to the fleets and each bring me five of your best women. We'll go out into jungle and search for these natives." She held up the arrowhead. "And if we can, we'll receive our first homage from them. Understood?"

"Yes, Admiral!" said the women, in unison.

They wasted no time. Back on the junks, as the three women left to gather their parties, Chena Yang turned to her personal wardrobe and took the opportunity to change her outfit. As much as she loved her floor-length robe with its drooping sleeves, such attire would never do in the thick rainforest. In their place, she donned a form-fitting red dress which reached only to her shins, and she let her black hair fall freely to the small of her back.

Soon, Bortujai, Yiang Keng and Muzha Shen returned with fifteen soldiers, some of whom Chena Yang recognized, most of whom she didn't. They gave Chena Yang a quick bow, and the party was off. The women at the shore camp watched with respectful excitement as the eighteen women waded into thickness.

The jungle made for a rebellious walking surface. Sticks snatched at the hem of Chena Yang's dress, her feet sank into smelly soil, and strange insects tickled at her skin. But the thrill of exploration still pushed her on. Above the rhythmic 'whack' of Muzha Shen cleaving through the leaves with her sword, exotic birdsongs beckoned her.

Muzha Shen halted, sheathing her sword. "Admiral," she said. "I see a fire ahead. I think we've found them!"

"At last," said Chena Yang. "Let's go and meet them." Taking the lead, she elbowed her way through the last of the branches and vines until finally sunlight poured into her eyes. She stepped out of the jungle.

A clearing of ridden-down mud stretched fifty sword-lengths ahead, populated by huts of pitch and thatch that clustered in a hodgepodge around two fires, one large and one small. Women in fiber clothes and copper-tone skin crouched around the huts, talking and tinkering over bits of bone, wood and animal hide. When they saw Chena Yang, they jumped. They babbled to each other in a barbarian tongue and scrambled. Before chaos could set in, a middle-aged woman in a thick fur cape stepped out from the biggest hut and bellowed a one-word command. All at once, the natives froze.

Bortujai drew her composite bow. Chena Yang stayed her with a hand.

"You," said the fur-caped woman, pointing grandly to Chena Yang. "You have returned."

Chena Yang failed to hide her surprise. "You can speak our language!"

"You are sea women," said the fur-caped woman. "You came from the west, beyond the shore. When my mother was chief, other sea-women came. They gave us silk and rice. We gave them furs and charms."

So the rumors were true; Admiral Hou really had made it this far.

Chena Yang put on her biggest voice. "I am Admiral Chena Yang." she boomed. "I hail from a great empire. Kneel to us, and you will be richly rewarded. Food, grains and metals we be open for trade."

The fur-caped chieftain only frowned. "You have come to us at a bad time. We do not need food, and we do not need your miracle hard-stone. We need our sons back."

Chena Yang's eyebrows rose. Scanning the crowd, she saw dozens of women but only three men. "What happened to them?"

The chieftain crossed her legs and sat down, and Chena Yang did the same in front of her. In unison, Chena Yang's crew stowed their weapons and sat with her.

"Monster boys," groaned the chieftain. "When I was a girl, the first one came. One of our sons disappeared. Then another. Then more." She looked up at the sky. "There are more monster boys now. Men who are not true men. They come from the east. They have strange abilities. Strange fears. We keep our village guarded, but still the monster boys find their way in. They steal our sons away, turn them into more monster boys."

Yiang Keng looked at Chena Yang, eagerness boiling on her young face.

Chena Yang returned her with a little smile. "Allow us to solve this problem for you," she said to the chieftain. "They are only living creatures. They can be stopped."

The chieftain did not perk up. "You have the courage of a child. If you could actually do such a thing, you could have anything for a reward."

Chena Yang's first instinct was to turn down the reward as a show of power, then it occurred to her to drive a hard bargain. That would set a valuable precedent; merchants of the future would thank her.

"For this reward," said Chena Yang, "We want men of our own."

One of her soldiers gasped.

"We've been at sea for months without a single man for company," she added.

The chieftain sat up straight, as if infected by her confidence. "If you can capture the monster boys alive, you may keep them all for yourselves. They cannot make one pregnant, so they are useless to us."

Chena Yang's sense of opportunity still tingled. "We want a little more," she said. "Do you have sons?"

"Yes," said the chieftain. "By the grace of the spirits, my three sons have not been stolen."

"Bring them out."

Looking over her shoulder, the chieftain said something in her rough language, and three young men strode out from the biggest hut, each one swathed in a plain brown tunic secured by a rope tied around the waist. The oldest, a powerful-looking young man with painted stripes running up his burly arms, stared at Chena Yang and her crew with suspicion. To his side, a much younger man gaped at them, nervously fidgeting with his black ponytail.

But in between them stood a magnificent specimen of masculinity, with long, sturdy limbs wrapped in firm muscles, held up by a straight back. Clean black hair, cut smartly to chin-length, framed his intelligent blue eyes. Calmly, he watched Chena Yang and her crew, gaze passing slowly from one woman to the next, his mind abuzz behind his gently smiling lips.

"That one," said Chena Yang, pointing to him. "If we purge your jungle of monster boys, I want that one as a consort."

All three boys looked shocked. The middle boy, the one Chena Yang had asked for, knelt down by his mother. "I am ready," he said, in Chena Yang's language. "If they can help us, Mother, then I am ready to make the sacrifice. Let them try."

Not seeming to notice him, the chieftain said, "I accept. My middle son Turapac is a virgin, and he is of age. If you can prove to me that the monster boys are no more, then you may do whatever you wish with him."

Chena Yang grinned. "We will begin immediately." She stood up and raised her voice. "Turapac, we'll require a guide. Would you accompany us?"

Surprise registered on Turapac's face for only a brief moment, then straightened with resolve. "I will go," he declared. He stepped up to Chena Yang and added softly, "My mother doubts it, but I believe you can solve our problem."

"You speak my language well," Chena Yang returned.

"I practice. And to think my father thought it was waste of time..." he smiled faintly. "Lead the way, Admiral."

Chena Yang turned to the east. "Onward!"

"Sea women," said the chieftain after them. "Take care with my son. If you lose him, the gods will surely take offense."

In perfect formation, Chena Yang's crew marched into the jungle, the women moving as quietly as they could in the noisy brush. Turapac walked proudly beside Chena Yang, the terrain giving him no trouble.

As they walked, Yiang Keng tiptoed up close behind Turapac, an uncontrolled grin on her face. Her palm pressed onto his butt, grabbing the stiff, muscular flesh.

Quickly, Turapac brushed her hand off. "Don't," he said quickly. "Stop the monster boys, and then the Admiral is my mistress. That is what my mother agreed to."

Chena Yang shot Yiang Keng a severe look.

A few minutes later, Turapac stopped. "We're in monster boy territory," he said seriously. "I know this place. Once, my cousin came to this exact spot with a male lover, a grave taboo in my tribe. They were ambushed by monsters, and my cousin could not escape."

"Then this is where we will set our trap," said Chena Yang. "Muzha Shen, get me a lasso and a smoke-burning lamp. As soon as we see a monster boy, we'll tie the lamp to him and set him free. His smoke trail will lead us straight to his nest."

Muzha Shen's face warmed with approval. "It will be my pleasure, Admiral." She gave a quick order, and one of her porters produced a smoke lamp from her pack, which she quickly tied to a length of rope.

"Turapac," said Chena Yang, "come with me." She led him out into the clearing, then pushed him gently onto his knees. "Stay here," she whispered. "When the monster boy comes for you, we'll catch them with the lasso. You'll be safe."

"I understand," he replied.

"You're a brave man."

He smiled.

Chena Yang retreated into the cover of the bushes behind, where the women had the smoke lamp ready. Bortujai, who had the greatest skill with ropes, crouched behind a voluminous fern, her sharp northern eyes fixed on the clearing.

Time passed. Long days at sea had taught Chena Yang patience, but still the tension wore on her, and she could sense the same in her women.

At last, the far side of the clearing rustled. Everyone gasped. Bortujai knelt a little lower.

A male figure emerged from the brush ahead. His skin was a few shades lighter than the natives', and he wore nothing but a dirty, weathered loincloth. His messy hair hung down past his shoulders, and most strikingly, two huge, grey-feathered wings jutted out from his back.

Lips parted with curiosity, the winged boy edged closer to Turapac, who pretended not to notice him. Haltingly, placing his feet with care, his wings twitching at the slightest noise, the boy stepped up behind Turapac.

Bortujai cast her rope.

It was a perfect throw. The loop fell around the winged boy's shoulders, and he yelped, his wings stiffening with shock. He pulled against the rope, and Bortujai grunted, struggling to hold on.

"The lamp!" snarled Bortujai. "Light the lamp!"

Trembling with excitement, the soldiers lit the lamp on the other end of the lasso rope. They gave the signal, and Bortujai let go.

Instantly, the winged boy sprinted off, wings pumping the air to hasten his escape, the lasso rope dragging behind him. The lamp disgorged smoke, and as soon as the boy was out of sight, a thin black plume appeared above the tree canopy.

"Perfect!" crowed Chena Yang. "Bortujai, you are amazing!"

Bortujai looked pleased, but not surprised.

"Now," said Chena Yang, "after him!"

As the group began to give chase, Turapac stood up and ran along with her. "Did it work?" he asked.

"Yes," said Chena Yang.

Turapac turned his face up to the sky, looking ready to laugh out loud. "We're doing it. After a generation, we're finally doing it! All my life, huntresses have been trying to find where the boys roost, but no one has ever managed something like this before."

"And we could not have done it without you," added Chena Yang.

They forged deeper into the jungle, Muzha Shen's blade carving through the foliage wherever it was too thick. Every few minutes, one woman would scamper up a tree trunk, read the sky, then point some way and say, "There! The smoke is that way!" And the hunt would continue.

Finally, Chena Yang heard something ahead. Crackling fire and heavy male breathing drifted into her ears. She could smell sweat and wood-smoke. She traded looks with Yiang Keng, Muzha Shen and Bortujai, and by the intensity on their faces, she knew that they had heard it too; they were close.

They reached a rocky outcropping, where a dead tree stood in a circle of scorched plants. The winged monster boy stood there, one hand on the charred trunk, panting. One of his hands picked at the lasso rope around him, getting nowhere with the knot.

There was another male, a human, tied by his wrists around the tree trunk. He was stripped down to a loincloth, his thin chest pulsing, his short bowl-cut hair nearly intruding on his eyes as he stared with terror up at the winged boy.

Turapac gasped, "Yepku. That's Yepku, Huamatamac's son!"

At the sound of his voice, the winged boy snapped his head up, wings straightening beside him. He took two halting steps back, then turned and fled.

Turapac cursed himself.

"It's alright," said Chena Yang. "We'll see what that man has to say."

She emerged into the clearing, and Yepku gaped at her, murmuring with fright.

"Don't fear," said Turapac. "They're friends. They're sea women, and they say they can stop the monster boys."

Yepku's jaw twitched. "This... this is a vision. That psychic boy is playing tricks on me again!" He spoke Chena Yang's tongue, but with such an accent that he was barely intelligible.

"Not this time," said Chena Yang, standing in front him. "Who did this to you? Was it that winged boy?"

"N-no! No, it was the others." His eyes went wide, and his breathing finally slowed. "They all live east, in a great crater. They're trying to turn me into one of them!" He turned his head down, trembling. "Every time one of them has his way with me, I lose a bit of my humanity. They're going to turn me into one of them!"

"Not anymore," said Chena Yang, kneeling and undoing his knots. "Run back home. You'll be welcomed, I'm sure."

As Yepku faced west, he whimpered. "The monster boys... they've already done so much to me. What if I've already become a monster? My wife... what if I can't give her children?"

"Worry about that later," said Turapac. "Fertile or not, seeing you will give them hope." He looked east. "I know it's giving me hope."

Without another word, Yepku hurried back for the village.

Once again, the party set off east, picking through greenery until the tree canopy ended and sunlight poured in between the trunks. Crouching, she crept up to the end of the forest and peeked through.