Chen Hu accompanies Drekk when he sets out to find the Master in an attempt to learn the fate of Nala. His comical wisdom and keen eye for Drekk’s inner turmoil make him a very sympathetic character. Unable to shake the monk loose, Drekk accepts Chen Hu’s companionship on the dangerous journey into the heart of the Taklamakan desert.

He follows the trail of the mysterious monks who have taken Nala to a sacred shrine. Chen Hu becomes much more than he first seems by the story’s end.

EXCERPT - From Chapter 57 - Taklamakan

“This is the edge,” Drekk said to himself as much to the monk who stood beside him. “The river marks the boundary, Chen Hu. Beyond there is only the desert. How far it goes, I cannot say, for I have never met a man who crossed safely to the south. Oh, it is rumored that a way may be found, but no man can point to it. Still,  I must go this way, understand? If you wish to leave and turn back to the safety of the cities and towns to the north, now is the time.”

 Chen Hu looked at him, squinting up at the tall brawny man and smiling. “You are a priest now?” He poked at him in his characteristic way. “You sound too holy. The desert is desert. Only sand. If you must go there, then Chen Hu will follow you as well. The cities and towns will wait.”

 “Yes, the desert is only sand, Chen Hu, but you cannot eat sand or drink it. This will be a very hard trek. It will be long, and cold, and if the winds rise on the open desert as they did some days past, it could be fatal. I beg you to consider now, and turn back while you can. You may go just there, along this northern bank and you will come to a trail that will lead you up to the village of Chimen south of Shahyar. From there you can head north to Kucha and live out your days as you see fit. I have silver for you, if that is your worry. You may buy and sell all the incense and prayer scrolls you wish. You can visit the shrines and walk your hundred circles, and sit in the inns at night for your ‘right eating,’ as you call it.”

 “Tired of buying and selling,” Chen Hu replied fervently. “Tired of scrolls, and walking circles. All done. Stomach full now, and I am ready to walk straight.” He pointed off across the wide river bed to the desert. The setting sun was glowing on the flowing dunes at the edge of his sight, beckoning with their mystery and beauty.

 “Your stomach may be full now,” Drekk warned, “but if you follow me it may be empty again very soon. We have rations for a week, or perhaps ten days. If we are lost, or beset by a storm, or if the desert is wider than a man can walk, then we will die out there. You understand?”

 “Better to be lost there than here,” Chen Hu clasped his breast to his heart. “Something tells Chen Hu that you are not lost yet. You are the scout man, yes? Chen Hu will follow.”

 Drekk had tried his best to discourage the monk, but it was clear to him that he would not turn back. He could get angry, and cast the man away, but what good would that do? He knew Chen Hu would be stubborn enough to follow him, even if he did forsake him in anger. In truth,  he was secretly glad of the monk’s company, though he felt weighted now with the responsibility for his life. He made one last argument, and it almost seemed  a confession as he spoke.

 “Yes, I am a scout man. Still, I have often led men astray, and some have died because of the error of my ways. I do not wish to be responsible for the death of another who follows me in good faith, ever again.”

 Chen Hu pursed his lips, with a look on his face that seemed he was about to start a lecture. “See that pack on your back?”

 “What of it?” Drekk craned his neck to look back over his shoulder, thinking his bindings had come loose.

 “That is yours. You carry it. See this bundle at the end of my walking stick? That is mine. I will carry it. Same with a man’s life. Each one carries his own.”

 Drekk could not help but smile. “Look who sounds like a priest now!”

 “Not a priest,” Chen Hu corrected him. “Only a monk now. But time to grow, yes?”

Taklamakan            The Land of No Return      © 2001, John A. Schettler