Title: Range Guides Beginning (A crossover and AU story between Kung Fu: The Legend Continues and Deathsport, a movie that starred David Carradine as Kaz Oshay)

Characters: Kwai Chang Caine, Peter Caine, Kaz Oshay, Matthew, a Shaolin monk of the future, along with two others, Oshay (Kaz's Mother-in flashbacks), Ankar Moore (in flashbacks), an unknown assailant, Bon Bon Hei, appearances from the 101st gang, Peter's class of students.

Warnings: Some Violence

Story: It is the year 3000, Kaz Oshay, a Range Guide, learns the truth of who he is and his common ancestry to the legendary Shaolin. He is drawn back to the 20th Century to prevent a death that could set off a chain reaction resulting in the deaths of two men whose descendents were the beginning of the Range Guides and the continuing existance of the Shaolin. Will Kaz make it in time or will Kaz reveal his presence and come face-to-face with the very enemy that is stalking the Caine line?

(Even though this sounds like the episode First Temple, there is more here than meets the eye. To understand who the Range Guides are, see the movie Deathsport. It can be acquired through Amazon.com)

Author: Alisa Joaquin

Disclaimer: All characters are borrowed excepted those created by me. All other characters (from KF:TLC and we know who they are) are property of Warner Brothers. Kaz Oshay was created by Roger Corman from Deathsport. I promise to give them back when I am done with them (of course I do not know how long that will be.)

I give permission to archive

Authors Note: This story is an experiement. It is the first time I had written a cross over involving another whole set of characters. Kaz Oshay was created by Roger Corman. All other characters within the year 3000 are mine. Though you may have read the prolog before, it has been updated and edited to read more smoothly. I hope this story peaks your interest.

It is the year 3000. The world as we knew it was no longer in existence. In the year 2040, the first of many devastating wars broke out lasting over the course of 600 of years. After another 360 years had passed, the world was still filled with scars of destruction. The governments of old were gone. Industry was nearly wiped out except in small isolated areas. What remained of religion soon faded into obscurity. Whole cultures had disappeared in the blink of an eye, never to be reborn. Even the land itself had not remained unchanged. Where there had been rich lush forests, much had been reduced to desert. Water supplies dried up. What fresh water remained became a commodity that many would kill for. Harsh winds would rise up as quickly as a flash, carrying with them debris like a great sandstorm, the kind of wind that could strip a man's bones. And the most who had been affected by these changes was man

Some that survived mutated over time as a result of the radiation that had been left behind. They became sensitive to the life-giving rays of the Sun and turned to living in caves. Their eyes enlarged and their damaged vocal cords no longer supported the power of speech. What radiation remained in their bodies became a poison to others that they would use to hunt humans to feed upon their flesh to survive.

Others who had not been affected by the radiation tried to rebuild some kind of society with whatever means they could, more out of fear than trying to recover what had been lost. Within the isolated areas of existing industry rose city-states. Huge fortresses some covered with glass domes, while others were built with giant walls of stone that could contain whole populations. Some tried to build with peace, while others continued to make war, fighting over fuel or other supplies to survive. Each city developed it's own form of government. The people within these city-states became known as Statemen.

Between the city-states roamed a third group of men and women who was different. They belonged to no one, not mutants or Statemen. They followed another code, to help others, to protect the innocent, to live in harmony with the land, and to heal those in need, especially their own. They remained fiercely independent but continued to protect and serve others. Like the knights of old, they carried swords and chose to ride horses. They were fierce warriors, defending all whom asked for their help, guiding those that needed to travel from city-state to city-state. They wandered the land, living a nomadic life, held only by the allegiance to their code. They were called Range Guides.

The history of the Guides was not well known. Some said they came from the ancient Shaolin, a religious order dedicated to helping others any way they could, especially through their knowledge of healing. Others thought the Range Guides had come from the old mercenaries because of their warrior-like ways. In truth, they had taken their way of life from both, the two became as one, and out of that union the Range Guides were formed. Only a few were privileged to know the truth and only those with the most powerful of gifts.

The Range Guide, Oshay, had been one of the most powerful of the Guides. Her abilities were legend. She could sense when a flash wind was about to happen days in advance. It was said her healing gifts were the most powerful. Not only could she heal broken flesh, it was said she could heal broken bone as well. Her knowledge was the most extensive. What knowledge she had possessed, however, had been lost when she was killed by another, a renegade Range Guide called Ankar Moore. Her son, Kaz, would have been the privileged one to receive that knowledge if it had not been for her death.

Kaz Oshay learned of her death from Denere, another Guide, soon after he had been captured by the Statemen of Helix where a madman ruled. That man believed by destroying the Range Guides, he would prove that Statemen could be just as powerful on their death machines. So Kaz was sentenced to fight in a deadly game called Deathsport. In Deathsport, no one was innocent or guilty. The only way someone could win their freedom was to fight by riding a death machine; a futuristic motorcycle equipped with a laser-like blaster that could instantly destroy victims when caught in its ray.

It was also through the eyes of Denere that Kaz saw visions of the young one, Tara, and learned of her disappearance. He joined with Denere in union for the purpose of finding the child once they escaped. After successfully defeating the Statemen and their death machines, and escaping Helix, Denere learned that the mutants had captured Tara. They rescued her even as they were being pursued by their captors, and the murderer of Kaz's mother, Ankar Moore. In the end, Kaz and the renegade Guide dueled with Kaz coming out the victor. Though the purpose that had brought Denere and Kaz together was over, they remained in union, supposedly to raise the orphaned Tara. Still, the code was specific. No one could hold a Guide, even another Guide. Kaz would again find himself alone, this time, coming upon a purpose whose significance even he would not realize until several months later.

Kaz Oshay traveled alone. Denere had ended their union. Another purpose had called her on. Even Tara had decided not to stay, wanting to remain with Denere. Although Kaz had wished for both to remain, the code was very clear on that matter. No one could hold a Range Guide, not even another Guide. During their short time together, Kaz had grown to love both of them as fiercely as he valued his independence, but to hold a Guide, even when there was agreement, was against the code. They all understood that each of them would soon be called for a higher purpose, including Tara when her time came. Tara would need the guidance of Denere when her own healing gifts came to fruition.

The union between Denere and Kaz had been strong, the purpose at that time had been clear; to escape the situation they found themselves in at the hands of another, and to take care of one of their own and save Tara from the mutants. With the young one safe, the three of them could continue together or part company; free to go their own way and meet again when other purposes required it. That was the way of the Range Guide.

Kaz let his horse find its own way through broken stone and brush filled paths as he slept cat-like on its bare back, wrapped in his cloak of homespun wool. When traveling, it was not always wise to stop and camp. Sleeping in this fashion enabled him to get some rest for a short time, but become immediately alert when trouble arose. Though the Statemen of Tritan had provided this particular horse, saddle, and tack as payment for services rendered, Kaz had removed the saddle and chose to ride the horse bareback. It was his way of getting to know the movements of the animal and to let the animal also feel the wishes of its rider without the need to always speak commands or pull on the reins. A shift in bodyweight was all the communication that rider and mount should require. It was a far more intimate relationship; one not all Range Guides followed, but it was Kaz's way and always would be.

As his horse came to a stop to nibble on some exposed dried grass, Kaz came awake and saw that the snow had finally stopped. He brushed away what flakes clung to his cloak and became aware how silent the world appeared. The only sounds that could be heard were the jingling of the tack and the soft nibbling and snuffling noises his horse made as he pulled on the stems and leaves of the plants his searching nose found.

Kaz took a moment to look around and found that the place he was in had a familiarity that he should not have felt. He had not been to this part of the wood before and yet it was as if he had in some forgotten dream. Suddenly, a shaft of sunlight broke through the thinning clouds and was caught by an unseen object; it's light bouncing back to strike Kaz in the eyes. He raised his hand to shield them from the glare and looked in the direction the reflection. Through the trees, Kaz spotted what looked like rough cut timber and what was left of broken stone walls. He could also see what looked like metal protruding from one of the openings in the wall. It was this that caused the light to bounce off into his line of vision. Intrigued, Kaz reigned his horse around and headed toward the site.

As Kaz approached, he saw that the ruins were more intact than he thought. Trees had grown up against parts of the ruined wall hiding much of the structure within, giving the appearance that the wall was all there was. Through broken parts of the enclosure, he spotted some kind of building. Kaz followed the line of the stone fencing and found the opening into the courtyard. Large twisted metal hinges were all that remained where once wooden doors had hung. Kaz pulled his crystalline whistler sword from its scabbard. To enter a space unprepared was foolish to say the least. He would not want to come upon mutants unprepared. Though mutants would not eat horseflesh, his flesh was another story. Still, he could not be sure if there were other predators waiting for an easy meal.

Kaz entered the courtyard and found a place to dismount and secure his horse where it would be safe. He circled the yard, keeping a watchful eye out for any other possible danger. As he circled, he came upon another strange metal object. It was a large bell hanging in a wooden framework. Kaz approached the bell and was surprised by its pristine condition. It was a stark contrast to the ruined structure of the wall. He realized this had been the object that deflected the light that caught his attention.

Kaz let his gaze wander to the rest of the area. This time, the building drew him. From the outside, the structure appeared abandoned, but having seen the condition of the bell, his interest was peaked where more investigation was needed to understand what place he had found himself in.

Kaz mounted the steps leading to the inside. As he approached the opening, he saw two large windows on either side of the entrance. They were covered with an intricate design. At the entrance, a large red curtain hung from the ceiling to the floor just inside the doorway. Above the door Kaz saw a plaque with symbols painted in gold. The name above said, "Su Lum Temple." Reading was rare among Range Guides. Kaz, however, had been one of the privileged few who had learned to read. His mother had also learned having been partially raised by the Statemen when she had been a child. But it was his father that had encouraged his mother to teach Kaz, or so she had told him. His father had made her promise that their child would learn words, so she had taught Kaz how to read. Before he had begun to journey on his own, his mother had passed to Kaz an old leather journal, saying that it had belonged to his father, though she had rarely spoken of him. When Kaz would ask whom his father was, she had been evasive, telling him that perhaps, one day, he would learn. All Kaz could remember of that time was a constant sadness that had remained in his mother's eyes. He had vowed some day to learn the truth behind it.

As Kaz gazed up at the writing on the wooden plaque, he reached in the brown pouch he carried at his side and grasped the journal. Much of the writing inside had the same quality as the writing on the sign above him. It reminded him of the stories that were written within the book; stories that were very old and told of a time long past. It was a treasure that no other Guide possessed. Even the pouch had been a possession that no other Range Guide carried. Denere had told Kaz that the pouch had belonged to his father. Denere had said that Oshay had given it to her and requested that she give it to her son. That was right before Oshay had been killed by Ankar Moore one year ago.

At the top of the steps, Kaz briefly paused and looked back. He had not realized how late it had become. The sun had moved into the western sky and the day was rapidly coming to a close. The mutants were sure to be out hunting for unprotected humans soon, and it would be best if he found a defendable space. This place was as good as any. Kaz gathered his resolve and entered the structure, pushing the heavy red cloth aside. He did not know what he would find inside, but he had a feeling it would change him forever.

Kaz entered the structure, his sword still drawn. When entering a new space, it was best to take precautions. Kaz breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed his guard just a little when he saw a soft yellow glow coming from another doorway leading farther inside. If it had been dark, the need for more caution would have been apparent. Mutants had the advantage in the dark. Still, this was unknown territory; it was best to be cautious just the same.

Kaz headed toward the illuminated area and found another set of stairs leading down to a large open hall. The light that he saw came from dozens of candles on what looked like metal racks flanking both sides of the room between several large columns.

'What is this place and who lit the candles?' thought Kaz.

As Kaz looked around, he felt the presence of unseen eyes staring at him. He spun around looking for the source but did not see anyone. Perhaps it was his imagination. Kaz shook off the feeling and again scrutinized the space. Across the main floor below him, he saw another set of stairs opposite of him leading to a raised area. His gaze settled on a sight that he did not expect to see. The expression that appeared on his face could only be described as astonishment. Hanging on the wall was a symbol that all Range Guides looked for in their travels. It was a means to know that they were well met and safe. The symbol was divided into two parts, yet each contained a small part of the other. To find one this large in a place such as this was the stuff of legends.

Kaz thought back to the stories that his mother had told him when he was a boy. They told of a temple that was supposed to be the origin of the Range Guides. Could this be that temple? At that moment, a noise caught Kaz's attention. Someone was coming, perhaps the very person who had lit the candles whose presence Kaz thought he felt earlier. Kaz hid to the right of the entryway behind one of the large columns supporting the ceiling. He watched as a man approached from another doorway on the level below him that opened directly into the main hall. The stranger mounted the steps opposite of Kaz's hiding place and the Guide observed with curiosity the unusual colored robes the man wore and that his head was completely bare. Around the man's neck Kaz could see a string of beads. The Guide continued to watch as the man carried a bowl of fruit and some incense sticks up to a small altar next to a miniature statue of a sitting man. He took three of the sticks in his hands, lit them, bowed several times, and placed the burning sticks in a small container on one side of the figure. The fruit he stacked on the other side. Kaz then observed the stranger pick up a ladle from a nearby bucket and poured water into another bowl. It was as if he was making an offering to a long forgotten god. As Kaz gazed toward the altar, he heard a soft melodic tone rise. The man had begun to chant. The chanting went on for about 10 minutes, and then the man spoke.

"Do not be afraid. I will not harm you," the stranger said. His back was still to Kaz. "Come foreword, I wish to see you."

Wondering how the man had known he was there, Kaz came out of hiding, but did not move from the top of the stairs. The robed figure turned to face Kaz.

The man smiled at him. "Ah, you are a Range Guide. I have not seen one in many years. Tell me, what is your name?"

"I am Kaz Oshay."

As the stranger studied the Guide, he could not believe what he saw. The likeness was remarkable. He shook his head in disbelief asking himself, 'Is it possible? He did say the name Oshay, a name my friend has spoken with love and deep pain many times. He even mentioned there had been a child. I thought he said that someone had told him his son was dead. Could this young man really be his son? We shall soon see if that is true.'

"Well Kaz Oshay. I am called Matthew. Please, will you join me in a cup of tea?"

"Tea? What is tea?" Kaz stayed rooted where he was, not sure of the man's intentions.

"You have not had tea before? Come then, you are in for a treat." The man started walking off until he noticed Kaz was not following him. "Do not be concerned. You are in no danger from me. You will not need your sword, I assure you. It is quite safe."

Kaz eyed the man then replaced his sword in its scabbard. He would remain on guard for he could do no less when the circumstances were unfamiliar. The man named Matthew led him down another hallway, also lit with candles. They entered a smaller room with a fire off to the side in a small stone ring. A hood with a chimney rose above the ring to let much of the smoke escape the space. Even here, candles had been placed on every available surface to provide as much light as possible. Kaz felt a light breeze against his skin and he shivered as he pulled his cloak around himself. Looking up, Kaz saw a row of small windows near the ceiling. Through the narrow openings, he could see that the sky had darkened to a deep velvety blue that indicated day was turning into night.

Kaz pulled his gaze away from the windows and back to the room. It was lined on two sides with shelves and there was a raised area with cushions for sitting and a low table. Kaz noticed that the shelves contained many scrolls and jars of all types. The room was also filled with the fragrance of many types of plants; some of which Kaz found quite familiar, one in particular was the scent of Jasmine. It had been his mother's favorite.

The man motioned for Kaz to sit while he filled a pot with water from a bucket. Kaz watched as Matthew placed the pot near the fire and proceeded to gather some dried leaves from a basket. Kaz continued to study the man as he crushed the leaves and placed them in the steaming pot of water. As the leaves steeped, Kaz's mouth began to water at the enticing scents that rose to meet him. He then observed Matthew gathering two cups, placed them on a tray, and from a shelf that was hidden from view by a curtain, brought out what looked like several small round cakes. He then placed everything on a low table beside Kaz, then proceeded to take the pot from beside the fire and poured the liquid through a strainer into each of the cups. After setting the pot down, Kaz waited patiently as Matthew crossed his legs, sat on one of the cushions across the table from him, and then took a sip of his tea.

As Matthew took a sip, Kaz's eyes were drawn to some strange marks on Matthew's forearms. They looked like animals but Kaz could not be sure of what he saw in the flickering candlelight. Rather than continue to stare, Kaz cautiously picked up the cup, sniffed the brew, and took a sip. The taste was not that unpleasant. As Kaz sipped his tea, he could feel the man was now watching him.

"What is it that you wish of me?" Kaz asked, getting straight to the point, the marks forgotten for the moment.

"You are so much like him. You have his face, his eyes, and it would seem, his very character," Matthew whispered more to himself, though his words were spoken out loud.

Kaz was taken by surprise by the man's comments. He had always thought of himself as unique; master only to the code that all Range Guides followed and to himself. To think there was another like himself, disturbed Kaz.

"I am my only master."

"Of course you are," Matthew responded. "So was your father, from his perspective.

"What do you know of my father?" Asked Kaz, his eyes narrowing.

"I know that he was very special, like your mother. Was not her name Oshay?"

"You also know of Oshay?"

Matthew smiled, "Everyone has heard of Oshay. Her skills were legendary."

"How is it that you know things about my family?"

"I knew, that is, we, here at the temple, knew your father for many years. He grew up within these very walls. Your father spoke of Oshay quite often. He loved your mother very deeply. He did not wish to leave her side but the life that he had chosen demanded it. He also told us of the child. You must be that child "

"My mother rarely spoke of my father. If you are so sure I am his son, tell me more."

"Your father was an usual person. He had gifts that spoke of another time. He refused to carry a sword or to ride a horse, which set him apart from others. He walked wherever he could. He was trained in the use of all weapons, and knew how to defend against them. But he used his hands and his feet as his only defense and then only when challenged. He would not fight unless there was no other choice. He would defend and help all those that required it even those who were despised, that was his way. It did not matter if that person was a mutant, Statemen, or Range Guide."

That last statement amused Kaz. To even consider protecting a mutant was foreign to him. 'The man sounded like a priest of some sort,' he thought. 'But priests have not existed for over 300 years; not since the last war. Is it possible that they still existed after all this time?' Kaz turned his attention back to the man and his story.

"Your father was a man who believed in harmony and peace. He followed the teachings of the Tao. He especially believed in Lao Tzu's words from the Hua Hu Ching, 'The first practice is the practice of undiscriminating virtue; take care of those who are deserving; also, and equally, take care of those who are not.'"

"I do not understand, who is Lao Tzu and what is the Tao? What you speak of sounds like part of the code," Kaz said with surprise.

"You might say they are related. Lao Tzu was a great philosopher. His writings speak about the Tao, but to truly know the Tao, you must study and even then, you may not know it fully." Matthew said with reverence. "It can take a lifetime."

"What was my father called?"

"He was known by one name only; he was called Caine."

"He was known by one name only; he was called Caine," Matthew replied.

The name sounded familiar to Kaz. As if in a dream, his thoughts drifted backward to when he had been a boy of about 14 summers.

One question that Kaz had asked himself many times since Adriani's death still remained.

"Was Caine a Range Guide?"

"No. It was true that he wandered in much the same way as the Guides do. He also followed much of their code. In truth, he was one of very few remaining, as am I, of a dying order. He was Shaolin."

Relief flooded through Kaz as some of his confusion melted away. For many years he believed Caine had been responsible for Adriani's death and his mother's pain. Adriani had died from the wounds that she had received and yet, he could have sworn that his mother had said that Caine had carried no weapon. But he still needed to find out if Caine had truly caused the pain he'd seen in his mother's eyes. This new information Matthew had just told him intrigued Kaz. Maybe this would help explain what had happened.

"Tell me more about the Shaolin," Kaz questioned Matthew.

"The Shaolin were a religious sect of monks and priests. Many were known for their great skill at healing, as well as Kung Fu. They followed the teachings of the Tao, Confucius, Buddha, and all those who spoke of peace and harmony. They assisted all who asked for help."

"You speak as if the Shaolin are no more," Kaz stated.

"Perhaps soon. The order is dying. Even you did not know of the order's existence until now. We are a forgotten people. We will be lost to the world."

Sadness gripped Kaz's heart at the thought of such a loss. He shook himself and tried to remember one important rule that he had learned as a Guide, to preserve knowledge. Perhaps by learning more, he could preserve some of the history of the Shaolin and pass it on to others. In this way, they would not be forgotten.

"What is Kung Fu?" asked Kaz.

Matthew took on a far away look as if he was considering the young man's question. *Should I tell him the truth?* Matthew asked as if to himself.

Matthew's question was answered by another, the thoughts forming clearly in his mind.

*The truth will have to be told eventually, but for now, the legend should suffice. When are you going to tell him about . . . *

*He isn't ready for that.* Matthew countered the mental voice.

*He has a right to know. I have a right to get to know him and ease whatever pain he may be feeling.*

Matthew felt the pain behind the words in his mind, even though they were quickly supressed. He took a deep breath, trying to ease the headache that was now forming behind his eyes. Perhaps if he finished answering Kaz's question, he might find the courage to tell him.

"It is a very long story," Matthew returned his attention to the young man. "Legend has it that over 2500 years ago, a young Shaolin monk was journeying home to his temple. He came upon a sight that was to become the basis of Kung Fu. He saw a tiger hunting a crane . . ."

Kaz listened to the story with rapt attention. This was something new to him. As the Shaolin wove his tale, Kaz could picture it clearly in his mind; how the crane used its wings and feet to distract the tiger and keep it off balance, while the tiger tried to use its claws to grasp and tear at the crane. Then the images faded from Kaz's mind as Matthew finished his story.

". . . It was from the movement of these animals that the young monk created the forms and took them back to his temple. He taught the monks how to use the exercises to meditate, and to also keep their bodies in shape at the same time. With this new way of life, they now had the ability to defend themselves from anyone who wished to do them harm. In accepting this, the Shaolin branded their arms to set themselves apart from other followers of the Tao and other sects."

Matthew pulled up the sleeves of his robes and revealed his arms. In the flickering candlelight, the images of a tiger and a dragon could be seen burned into his flesh. Kaz's gaze was again drawn to the marks that he had seen earlier peaking out from Matthew's robes, and his hands reached out slowly to touch each one.

"I do not recognize that other animal. I see the tiger but should not the other be a crane?"

Matthew smiled at the question. "Though it would seem that it should, the other is a dragon. The tiger is for strength, the dragon for wisdom. Together, they make up the symbols that identify me as Shaolin."

"You said that my father is Shaolin. Does he also have these symbols?"

Matthew avoided the penetrating gaze of the Guide. "Had. Another Range Guide, a renegade, fought him and . . . supposedly killed him. That is all I know." Matthew again sensed a familiar tingling at the back of his mind, this time it smacked of disapproval. It was so strong and persistent, it threatened to overwhelm his senses. He blocked out any attempt at communication and did his best to keep his reaction down to a minimum. He would have to deal with the intrusion later. For now, he hoped the young Guide had not noticed his brief lapse in attention as he returned to face Kaz.

Suspicion formed in Kaz's mind, regarding the killing of Adriani years before and the wounds that had been inflicted. "Was he Ankar Moore?"

"Yes, he had been jealous of the relationship that your father and mother had. He wanted Oshay but she did not want him. He became obsessed. Ankar Moore hunted your father down and it was said he killed him. When it was discovered what he had done, he was banished. They declared that he had lost himself, that he had become an animal."

"I had not heard," said Kaz. "How is it that you know this?"

"News was brought to me by another Shaolin, a friend of your fathers. He discovered what had happened and . . . " Matthew could not go on. He saw the pain in Kaz's eyes and did not want to be the cause of it. Instead, he tried to communicate to the other that what had been said was necessary. *I had to tell him something. I do not like hiding the truth either, but I do not think he is ready to know. Give him time, please.*

Hearing the story from Matthew renewed the deep pain that Kaz felt as a result of what had happened to his family. He shook his head and fought back the tears that threatened to overshadow his reason. Though it had been only a few weeks since he had won the duel against Ankar Moore, it still disturbed Kaz to learn that the renegade had killed his mother. Now, it seemed that same renegade had also been responsible for Caine's death, and that Caine had been his father. The information nearly overwhelmed Kaz. Now he would never have the opportunity to confront Caine about the hurt that he had done to Oshay.

At least he could take comfort knowing that Ankar Moore was gone for good; that he had ended that useless life. Never again would the renegade use his abilities as a Guide in service to the Statemen, capturing other Guides to be used in Deathsport. At least that horrendous game had been stopped permanently.

Kaz could not stop the deep yawn that overcame him, exhaustion settling in from the long journey that he had made that day and from the emotions he had been experiencing.

"Please, my apologies," said Matthew. "You are tired. Come, I will provide a place where you can rest. We will talk more in the morning."

"I must see to my horse. He must be watered and fed."

"Your horse will be taken care of."

"What about the mutants? Don't they come here?"

"No. They are afraid of the temple. They believe it to be haunted."

Matthew led Kaz down another passage to a large sleeping area. Kaz could see a small bed off to one side. Even here candles burned brightly. Feeling the presence of eyes staring at him, Kaz spun around. He came up short as two figures, one with a penetrating gaze but gentle smile, stared out at him from an image on the wall. The other, a young man, also had the same penetrating look, though his eyes contained a hint of humor and even challenge. Kaz could see that they wore robes similar to Matthew's and around each of the figure's necks was a green jade pendant. What struck Kaz the most was that they both seemed familiar. It was as if he had seen them before, but he did not know how that was possible.

"They are your ancestors." Matthew responded to Kaz's unspoken question. "The young man is Peter. The older is his father, Kwai Chang Caine. They are the reason why you were led here."

Led here? What was Matthew talking about? The statement puzzled Kaz. As far as he knew, he had not been journeying to this place, only letting his horse roam freely at will. Kaz turned to question the priest but instead, found himself yawning and trying to keep from closing his eyes again. Kaz's mind fought off the need for sleep that his exhausted body was demanding; his anger flaring in response to his need to determine why he was in this strange place.

"Tell me what purpose am I here for?" Kaz demanded impatience clear in his voice.

"Patience Kaz Oshay Caine. Your questions will be answered, though many of those answers may not come from me. Rest, we will talk more in the morning."

Then Matthew waved his arms and extinguished all but one of the candles with the force of his chi. The motion startled and awed Kaz and he spun around to face the darkened room. A single candle remained burning near the image on the wall, as if it was a presence lamp, announcing that the spirit of those who dwelled in this place still remained. Kaz turned back to question the Shaolin about his trick with the candles, only to discover that Matthew was gone, and realized he was not going to get any more answers that night.

Kaz removed his belt and scabbard, and propped his whistler sword against the wall. The light from the single candle caused his shadow to jump wildly. Though the portrait on the wall was shrouded in partial darkness, the eyes of the older man could clearly be seen. They were a haunting reflection of his own. Kaz did not think he could sleep with those eyes staring at him. Then a soft, haunting melody rose around him. It had a hollow, floating sound that spoke of dreams and restfulness. Kaz sat on the floor and defiantly tried to keep his mind focused on something other than the music that drifted around him. He tried to resist his need for sleep, determined to keep guard through the night even though the sound of the melody was trying to coax him into relaxing further. As the notes continued to surround him, he could no longer keep his eyelids open. His attempt to shake off the impending sleep was useless. He found himself falling backwards sliding to the floor in a restless slumber.

For a brief moment, Matthew re-entered the sleeping area and signaled silently to two monks hidden from view. He watched the two monks approach the exhausted Guide, knowing he was safe within their capable hands. Matthew observed as Kaz struggled weakly against the strong hands of the two monks that lifted him. But the young man's exhausted body soon betrayed him, and he gave in as he was placed on the soft bed. Matthew draped a blanket over the prone form of the sleeping Guide to ward off the chill. Not a single footstep could be heard as the monks left the room.

Kaz mumbled, "Why did he call me Caine?" before sleep finally claimed him.

Matthew waited near an alcove and watched as the two monks left the room of the sleeping Guide. He turned and began speaking to a presence in the shadows. "He will sleep soundly until the morning."

The sound of the flute ceased. "Was it wise to tell him such a tale?" Anger laced the flute player's words as he slowly moved out of the shadows. The color of his robe declared him to be a monk of the same order, but the hood of the garment was drawn up, obscuring his face in its shadow.

"You know I had no choice. I do not like to hide the truth either, but it must be done. You did not see the pain in his eyes. He is not ready to learn everything yet," Matthew placed a sympathetic hand on the unknown monk's shoulder and continued. "He is too quick to anger and to kill. He must learn that there are other ways. Still, it is amazing. The likeness to his ancestor is remarkable, as your likeness is to the other."

"Yes, I know. Even I could not help but notice it," said the other monk.

Matthew could sense pride and unrestrained joy swelling within his friend, and yet he also sensed a deep-rooted anger directed at the one responsible for what his friend had been told ten years ago.

"I know you are angry, my friend. You must let it go. The one responsible for telling you that he died has been gone for five years. It does not matter now. With Kaz here, there is hope. He will be the one to fulfill what is written. That is his destiny."

"I am aware of that, Matthew," the hooded monk said. "Since I have been 'forbidden' to even contact him, it will have to be up to you to tell him everything. You must make it clear to him. It won't be easy. Even I could sense there was a great deal of impatience in him."

"Do not worry, my friend. He will learn patience. He has his father's curiosity after all, and I bet his stubbornness as well," Matthew said with a wink to the hooded monk.

"I prefer the word tenacious," teased the flute player." When the time comes, I wish I could go with him, but I cannot. I would be a hindrance to him."

"He will succeed; the book tells us that it is so. Let me make you a cup of tea and we can discuss what needs to be done next."

"Very well. I hope you are right," The hooded monk tried to convince himself. He picked up a leather tube hidden in the darkness and placed the instrument inside. He then grasped a long walking stick and limped down the hall beside his friend. Before they turned the corner, the hooded monk looked back the way they had come. A strong feeling came over him telling him he would soon be needed.

Kaz Oshay dreamed. The images were strange. He found himself walking within what seemed to be the very walls of this temple. Instead of dark empty corridors, light from hundred's of candles could be seen. Kaz saw many monks; the look on their faces was one of hope and joy. It was another time, and yet it felt as if the temple had not changed. Then the essence of the dream changed and Kaz found himself wandering the halls, anxiously looking for someone, unaware that he searched for the young man he had seen in the image on the wall. Kaz sensed the change in the atmosphere of the temple. He heard frantic voices and felt the rising of panic and fear. As Kaz rushed through to the main hall, he came upon the young man trying to help others. Kaz rushed forward to help, but before he could act, he saw the young man fall as another monk struck him from behind. Deep hatred burned in the assailant's eyes. The blow had been swift and deadly, and Kaz saw blood pooling out around the young man's head. Grief filled Kaz as he realized he had been too late. Then an explosion rocked the foundations of the temple. Debris rained down burying the young man and many monks. Shots rang out as others tried to defend those that had been injured.

"NO! PETER!"

Kaz turned at the cries as a man wearing dark glasses rushed into view. He ran to the fallen young man clawing frantically at the debris to free the Shaolin. Then a shot rang out and he too fell.

*No! This cannot be happening. I am too late, too late!* Kaz cried out, tossing and turning in his sleep. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he could not wake himself from the dream.

Without a sound, the monk in the hooded robe approached the bed and sat beside the restless Guide. His gentle fingers came up and caressed Kaz's face, stroking his right temple, soothing away the fears that disturbed the young man's sleep. For a brief moment, light penetrated the hood. Soft hazel eyes could be seen, then were again shrouded in darkness. The stranger continued to brush the side of Kaz's cheek as the remnants of the dream faded from the tightness in the young man's face. As a final tear fell, the stranger reached up and brushed it away with his thumb and Kaz relaxed into the feel of his touch. The stranger paused briefly; remembering a time long ago. Then regret filled him for his sudden impulse. He should have waited, but the need to be near the young man had been too strong. He could not bear to see Kaz in so much pain. It had been far too long since he held him, not since Kaz had been an infant, he realized. She had raised him well. This simple loving act nearly brought on his own tears as he turned at that moment to gaze upon another father and son. Had that one also done the same thing: soothed the fears of his frightened child? Could he not do the same?

The stranger sensed that the young man's sleep deepened and could see by Kaz's face that more pleasant dreams replaced the fading nightmare. The hooded monk rose stiffly from the bed, grasping tightly to the ever-present walking stick. He carefully leaned down, picked up the blanket that had fallen on the floor as a result of Kaz's restless slumber, and tucked it around the now quiet form. Then the hooded monk picked up a nearby pillow, laid it carefully on a spot on the floor, then lowered himself slowly to sit in a lotus position. He knew his body would regret it later, but the need to be close overrode his sense of wisdom. He pulled out the flute from its leather container and brought it to his lips and began to play again, weaving a melody that spoke of a distant past and a destiny to be fulfilled. He watched the young man as he played, and he could see him relax even more. Satisfied, the stranger continued to play for another few minutes then placed his flute back into its protective container. He turned his face up toward the portrait a second time, smiled, and closed his eyes; letting his mind drift into meditation and thought about a beautiful woman with deep auburn hair wielding a whistling crystalline sword.

Kaz woke to find that dawn was not far off. As he rose to do his morning exercises, he was vaguely aware that someone had been in the room as he slept. A lingering scent of jasmine was in the air and it evoked memories of his mother that brought his hand to his cheek. Someone had stroked him there last night as his nightmare had faded from memory. His mother had done the same thing when he had been a boy, but he knew it to be impossible for her to be here, having been dead now for a year. The touch, however oddly familiar, had a slight difference. Even so, two faces formed in his mind; one of Oshay, the other strangely obscured and distant. He tried to bring the face into focus but all he saw was a pair of hazel eyes. Kaz realized with surprise that they were the same as the two men in the portrait who he had just learned were his ancestors. Could those eyes of that unknown face belong to his father? But that too, was impossible to know. His father was dead. He knew no other parent than Oshay. If that was so, then who comforted him last night and why did he react to the touch as if his parent had been alive and in the room with him?

Kaz knew he wasn't going to find the answers at that moment, so he concentrated on performing his morning exercises. He then sat in the middle of the floor facing the window and the light of the rising dawn, and invoked the code that was the basic belief system of the Guides.

Kaz spoke in even tones, his voice sounding far off as if in meditation, "I am at one with the rhythm of the Earth. My true path never wavers. It is steady. My purpose is clear. I am of no more importance to the universe than the leaf on a tree. I am still. I share the life. I am one with it. I defend my own. I am as strong as I need to be. I give what I can. No one holds me. I am sacred. No one can touch myself. I am my only master."

"Kaz Oshay Caine, we must talk." Matthew stood in the doorway. There was a seriousness to his voice.

Matthew observed Kaz rise from the floor in one fluid motion that was so reminiscent of another.

"Why do you call me Caine?" Kaz said angrily. "I am Kaz Oshay."

"And you are a Caine. You are your father's son. It is fitting that you carry his name as well."

"I do not understand."

"You will. Come with me."

The Shaolin led Kaz through the temple down a flight of stairs to another room containing several artifacts. Matthew opened a dark wooden cabinet. Inside were several items, and one in particular had caught Kaz's attention. It looked like a stone coffin. Kaz was about to run his hands over the surface when Matthew stopped him.

"That is for another time," Matthew cautioned as he pulled a box from a smaller shelf above. He placed the box on a nearby table, opened it, and touched a hidden mechanism, a drawer sprang open and the Shaolin pulled from the now revealed hidden drawer, a white book. Kaz gave Matthew a quizzical look.

"Many have guarded this book for just this moment. Contained in its pages is the history of a line; your line Kaz Oshay Caine. The images are called photographs. The art of creating such images has been lost to us. Part of the duties of the Shaolin order was to act as historians and preserve valuable documents. This particular book is your legacy. It was preserved especially for you. I will do my best to explain its contents."

Matthew handed Kaz the book and watched him cautiously open its pages. As Kaz flipped through the book, Matthew observed the young man's reactions as he viewed each image. He could see that Kaz recognized the very first photo as being the older man in the sleeping chamber. He continued to watch Kaz flip through the book and watch his gaze fall on every image.

"This is the young man on the wall in my chamber."

"Yes."

"There is so much pain in his face in these other . . . photographs," Kaz pointed toward the back of the book. "It is as if all the light in his eyes had gone out. Who is the other, the one with the dark glasses? I have seen . . . he looks . . . familiar . . ."

"He was a very dear friend of your ancestors."

Matthew turned back to the beginning of the photo album. "You will learn more about the two younger men in time. Your concern should be for the older. You, Kaz Oshay Caine must take his place. You must become Shaolin."

Kaz's eyes narrowed. He did not understand. What did Matthew mean, take his ancestor's place? "I am already a Guide. Why must I become a Shaolin? What purpose does it serve?"

Matthew watched the young man and could feel the disturbance in his chi. His friend had been right. Convincing Kaz of their need was not going to be easy.

"I must apologize for the choice of words. You are needed but it is difficult to explain. To understand I would have go back to the beginning." Matthew shook his head. He knew he should reveal the whole truth to Kaz, but if he did, the Range Guide might not help them. 'Besides what good would it do to tell him. He believe's he's dead. What should matter at this point is to convince the Guide that we need him. He can be told later.' Still, he had to at least tell him something. He understood that a Range Guide needed to know what his purpose would be; and Kaz was no exception.

"What do you mean, go back to the beginning?" Kaz asked

Matthew made a decision he hoped his friend would understand.

"The history of the Caine line is a long and unique one. This would not be the first time that the last of the line was called to save the past."

Matthew could see the puzzled look in Kaz 's eyes and tried to continue. "Nine months from now, in the past, something will change that will affect the future; their future, our present. This very Temple will be destroyed along with these two men." Matthew pointed to the photograph of the young Shaolin and the man in the dark glasses.

Matthew could sense the rising fear and confusion in Kaz. He breathed a deep sigh and debated whether to tell the Guide more of what he knew of the events. Perhaps telling him a little more would not hurt. It may even help to convince him further that they needed his help.

"The events in the past should not have taken place. Something had been altered to allow that destruction to happen," Matthew said, pointing to the album. "Even though we are standing here today, time has been altered just the same and within nine months, the Shaolin and Range Guides will cease to exist, wiped from the memory of all."

"The Range Guide's? How? What do they have to do with this?" Kaz became alarmed at what he heard.

"I . . . do not know."

Kaz knew somehow the man was being evasive. The book was still open and he stared down at the photo that contained the face of the older man. He was to replace this man? Was that his purpose? Why? What wasn't the Shaolin telling him? He said those men; the younger one and this one were his ancestors. What was the older man's name? Kwai Chang Caine? Then Kaz turned to another page and his hand rested just below the image of the man with the dark glasses. It was the same man from his dream. As he stared at the photo, Kaz's thoughts wondered, 'Who are you?' Matthew had only mentioned that he was a good friend of his ancestors. What significance did this man also play?

"Kaz, I can only ask for your help and that you trust me." Matthew pleaded. "I am asking that you help us, the Shaolin and the Range Guides, to survive. Only you can accomplish that purpose."

Kaz stared down at the metal bands around his forearms. He had earned these bands when he had taken on the challenge that marked that he had reached maturity. The trial had been simple survival. He had entered the caves of the mutants and tried to survive without being detected. He had remained in there midst for one week. He had nearly been caught twice. The second time he had received a wound in his leg that contained a small amount of the mutant's poison. It had nearly killed him, but he had survived thanks in part to his mother's knowledge of rare herbs that she had passed onto him. By surviving, he had proven himself worthy to be called a Guide.

He knew that Matthew had not told him everything, or even if the Shaolin was telling the truth. And yet, if he refused to take on this challenge, if what the priest had said came to pass, then would he no longer exist? The thought frightened him. Kaz turned toward Matthew.

"I will help you, Shaolin."

Matthew closed his eyes and bowed, and acknowledged Kaz with his closed fist to open hand salute.

Peter was restless. He had come out on the terrace to meditate in the blooming garden. The May spring day offered the promise of something new. Peter was sitting in a patch of sunshine soaking up it's warming rays when he sensed a person's presence he had not felt in three months. A broad smile creased his face at his anticipation of his father's return to the city from searching for the essence of his mother, Laura Caine. Impatient, Peter could not wait to discover whether his father found if she was alive. As Peter focused his chi, he could feel a deep sadness in his father's chi long before he arrived at the apartment above the warehouse. Concerned, Peter reached out further to discover the reason.

*Pop?*

*Do not call me that!*

The sudden reprimand was angrier than Peter expected or even remembered. It felt like a knife entering his mind and he recoiled from the impact. Trying to shake off his own reaction, he felt his father's shame across the link as Caine's thought's filled his mind.

*Peter? My son, I am sorry, I did not mean to . . .*

*Don't.* Peter interrupted, sending his own hurt and anger through the link back to his father. *I promise. I . . . won't call you Pop ever again. I'll leave you to your thoughts, Father.*

Kwai Chang Caine could sense his son's distress and the sudden breaking of the link. He quickened his pace. He had not meant to be so harsh with his words. Peter's formal use of the word father brought on a wave of sadness and regret. He had been deep in thought when his son intruded. Although he realized the attempt his son had made to contact him had been done out of concern, he should not have reacted the way that he had.

Caine sighed deeply, 'I am sorry, my son. Forgive me. I should have noticed that your abilities as a Shaolin have grown since I have been gone these past three months. I should be proud, but ...'

Kwai Chang's thoughts drifted back to his search and subsequent discovery as he was reaching the street that led toward home. One question continued to remain in the forefront. 'How am I going to break the news to him?' he asked himself.

Peter rose from the terrace floor and entered the apartment, shaken from this mental assault. He walked through the halls searching for a place to calm his spirit and entered the private kwoon. The small altar stood at one end and Peter went over, lit the candles, and sat on the mat to try and refocus his thoughts. Tears stung his eyes and his heart ached, making him feel like a child again. He had not meant to intrude, but his impatience had won out, wanting to know what had transpired regarding the search for his mother. It was also a way for him to practice Shaolin mindspeak, as he was now prone to call it. With this latest wave of anger, a new rift had opened between father and son that was bound to make life more difficult if it was not healed quickly.

"Young Caine, you are distressed." Lo Si entered the kwoon carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two cups. He set the tray down by the straw mat in front of the small altar next to where Peter was sitting.

"It's all right, Master. I just have to learn . . ." Peter fought to keep from choking on the raw emotion, the words tumbling out in a stream. "I can't seem to do anything right, lately. I've messing up with all this apothecary stuff. I've tried to follow the lessons, but . . ."

"Peter you are doing fine. You are just beginning. Perhaps it is my fault. I have been pushing you too hard, but I sense that your distress has nothing to do with learning to work with herbs. Tell me what is troubling you."

Peter bowed his head, not sure where to start.

"Is it because you have been thinking about your father and his search?"

"That's part of it, I guess," Peter sighed deeply. "That . . . and the fact that Jordan left yesterday. She just packed up her bags and moved out. She said she wasn't satisfied living on one salary and she couldn't understand why I wouldn't charge for my services. I think that was just an excuse. Money has never been an issue. She seemed at first to accept the fact that now that I'm a priest, the community takes care of my needs just fine. I guess she had some dreams of her own, but she never fully confided in me about them. Instead, since I've moved in here, we've done nothing but fight about one thing or another. Not only that, she's become far more hard nosed about me interfering in police business. With the last case, she even accused me of obstructing justice, said if I wasn't going to support the police that I could be run in as an accomplice. The kid was scared. He had no other place to go. He wanted out from under Bon Bon Hei's organization. They were blackmailing him. What was I supposed to do? The kid may have had a rap sheet but he still deserved a chance at changing the path that he found himself on."

"Peter, you do not have to justify your actions to me. I know it has not been easy since your father left."

"To say the least. Even the people of Chinatown are still cautious, even though they know I'm Shaolin. How am I suppose to help them if they won't come to me? They trust you more. I can't understand what I'm doing wrong."

"It is not you, Peter. It is your age. You are young. The Chinese community has always turned toward their elders for advice. You must find another way how you can help, perhaps working with the youth."

Peter was about to answer when a new member entered the conversation.

"That is an admirable idea."

The sound of the long awaited and familiar voice brought Peter's head up, and he turned to see the elder Caine standing in the doorway. Though he was glad to see his father return, Peter bowed his head and ran his fingers through his hair as if caught in an embarrassing situation. He rose from the floor and stood with his back to the door, not wanting to meet his father's gaze. The awkwardness of the moment had caught both off guard.

The Ancient glanced back and forth from father to son.

"I believe I will check on that pot of tea."

"But Lo Si, you just brought a fresh pot in," Peter said, turning toward the old priest and pleading as if he did not want him to leave just yet.

"It has grown cold. It needs warming," Lo Si said, picking up the tray and exiting, leaving father and son alone. The looke he gave the two left no doubt that his words were not only referring to the tea.

Kwai Chang Caine approached Peter in silence, trying to read the expression on his son's face. Lo Si had been right. Caine could sense there was a definite chill that hung in the air between them. He needed to dispel the damage that his harsh thoughts had caused earlier.

"I am sorry, my son. I know you have been anxious these past few months and I did sense your concern for me. I am proud of you. You have shown great improvement in your abilities."

Peter lowered his head and swallowed a lump in his throat, "That's okay, Dad and thanks." The hurt from his father's reprimand lost some of its sting, as Peter felt his father's love reach out to him. It warmed Peter's heart to know that his father was proud of him for what he had accomplished in his absence. "I take it you didn't find any trace of Mom, did you?"

Caine moved deeper into the room and removed his flute case, brown pouch, duffel bag, and hat. Scrutinizing the place, he noticed a few new items that Peter had added to the decor; some of which he approved while others would be rather difficult to get use to. He would comment on them later.

"I am afraid I did not. The photograph turned out to be of a young woman who merely looked like your mother. Though a sweet girl, she was not Laura." Caine sighed deeply.

Peter tried to hide his disappointment. "That's okay, Dad. I think we both knew deep down that she couldn't be alive. You had to find out the truth. Besides, Annie's been my mother for a long time. I wouldn't want to hurt her, even though I really would've loved to have seen Mom again and gotten to know her. I have very few memories of her and I know you've missed her." Peter paused a moment, not knowing where else to go with the conversation. He finally settled on a safe; unemotional topic. "Are you hungry? You want to join me for something to eat? How about that little cafe you always like to sit at. You can tell me more about your trip. Did you see Grandfather at all while you were there?"

"I would be honored, my son and yes I did. Your grandfather is well. Peter, there is one thing, about your calling me, "Pop". I realize it is your way of expressing your love for me, but your mother would not have liked you calling me that, and it makes me feel old."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize . . . .it hurt your feelings." Peter again felt the overwhelming disappointment in his own abilities to please his father and others. "It's just that I kind of thought it as sort of a pet name." Peter's voice went down to a whisper and he bowed his head.

Kwai Chang lifted his son's face to stare into his eyes. "Peter, you do not have to apologize for the love you feel for me. I understand. I remembered that when I was young I, too, called my father, Pop. He did not like it either. When you call me that name, it reminds me of him. I believe I may get use to it in time, but please, not too often." Caine tapped his son on the chin with a playful punch of his fist, forcing a smile to appear on Peter's face.

"Okay, Pop, uh Dad." Peter said with a small but reserved grin and wrapped an arm around his father's neck, "Thanks. Does this mean I'm forgiven and your staying?"

"Of course, where else would I be?"

"Uh, Dad, one more thing. I really hope you don't mind. I couldn't help notice that you saw my stuff. Well, since I'm Shaolin and you asked me to take care of your place, and I no longer have the same income coming in, well . . ."

As they exited the apartment together, Peter tried his best to explain, his father patiently listening to his Shaolin son without saying a word.

Every hour of the day it seemed was spent in training, studying old scrolls, or doing some sort of mundane task assisting in temple life. The day would begin at dawn and end well after the sun was down. Kaz began each day with a simple bowl of rice as his morning breakfast. Then with other students, though few in number, he would be taken to where his level of training was being held that day, Kaz had observed that his training had not followed the same path as the other students.

While others semed to concetrate on doing one task for hours, Kaz was required to learn more than the rest. It was intense. It was as if they were trying to pack years of study into a few months. There were days when Kaz would return to his room and realize that he had not eaten anything since breakfast, but was too exhausted to even think about getting anything else to eat. Even doing any meditation or hsi own devotions seemed exhausting to him.

Kaz thought back to when his training began and when he met his teacher. It was immediately after he had gone through an initiation trial where he had been required to defend himself. It had been a test of his fighting skill like none other he had experienced. He had to defeat three monks in combat using a style of fighting that he had never seen before. Somehow, he managed to defeat all three, but he wasn't quite sure how he managed it. When he did, Mattthew had declared him worthy. For an instant, he wondered what would have happened if he had said that he was not, though the thought vanished as soon as it had appeared simply because he had union with the Shaolin to perform a task. They certainly could not refuse him if they were the ones that asked for his help in the first place. Still, he did not expect to be learning the things they were teaching him, especially by an ancient monk that looked like he had come out of the last milllenium.

As the weeks went by, Kaz later learned that temple life was not all hard work, even though it seemed every moment of his day was filled with some aspect of Shaolin Gung Fu training. He would see small groups of students, disciples, and masters, discussing philosophy. Others were playing musical instruments or studying old scrolls. At times he would spy the hooded monk that he had seen playing what looked like a flute. Master Po had explained it to him that it was made of bamboo. Kaz had asked who the flute player was, but the ancient monk was evasive in his answer. He simply told him that that particular monk was to be left alone, that he was undergoing his own trials and needed solitude.

"It is not time for you to meet. He will be your next teacher when the time is right. It is he that will make that choice." said Master Po, the tone of his voice barring any argument.

Later that day, as Kaz was practicing his stance training, he also took the opportunity to ask a few questions.

"Master I do not understand what is the basis of Gung Fu? Kaz asked.

"The art of Shaolin Gung Fu is founded upon form, balance, meditation. This is the base upon which all else rests," his teacher instructed. "Your horse stance is very deep. Perhaps from sitting on a horse for many years you have the advantage of knowing it quite well. Your bow stance, however, needs work. Your feet should be parallel and at an angle. Your front toe should be turned inward and the knee should be over the toe."

Behind one of the main pillars supporting the great hall, Matthew and the hooded monk watched Kaz and the Ancient as they trained. Both observed the intensity that was present in the young Guide's face as he listened to his Master.

"He is eager to learn as you were, when you entered the temple. He hungers for knowledge," said Matthew.

"And yet he is still impatient and filled with rage," said the other.

"You, too, were just as eager to learn and to know. He will learn patience and understanding. You shall see."

'But you do not realize that the knowledge he hungers for is not being given to him. I should be the one giving him that knowledge. I should be the one teaching him,' the hodded monk thought

The pair moved off continuing their conversation, leaving student and master to train alone.

*****

The next day found Kaz trying to walk across a thin beam of wood, eyes closed. Strapped to his arms were two buckets of water. As he took each step, it felt as if the beam got narrower and narrower to where his foot barely covered the surface. At the moment his right ankle gave way and he tried to regain his balance, the thoughts of the other intruded.

*Focus Kaz. Feel the beam not just with your body, but with your whole being*

Too late, with the added distraction of the other, he stumbled and fell from the beam landing hard on his backside and spilling the water. This had been his fourth attempt and each time, his frustration grew and became more apparent on his face. Matthew moved forward and again assisted Kaz to his feet.

"Aauuugh. This is impossible. Why must I master all this stuff? There's no purpose to it. I am a Guide," Kaz exclaimed angrily.

"Everything has a purpose, Kaz. Kung Fu allows us to hone our bodies so our minds may be free to explore in other planes, Matthew said as he assisted Kaz to his feet and began refilling the buckets.

"It will come, in time. Remember, it is the journey itself which enlightens us, not the destination." Master Po instructed, looking on.

"All this feels like it is a waste of time. I am a Guide. I need to know the purpose behind this."

"Go, meditate in your quarters. Your impatience prevents any further progress today," the Ancient replied, his voice stern.

Kaz removed the buckets from his arms and then stocked off toward his quarters. When he entered, he sat on the floor and tried to focus, but meditation would not come, his anger blocked any attempt. Kaz rose and threw himself down on the bed.

'Why did I agree to this? What is the point?'

He thought back to the day he first viewed the album. He remembered the things Matthew had told him, but the Master's explanation only seemed to bring on more questions.

'If I do not train to become a Shaolin, the Shaolin and Range Guides will be no more. Why? What link do the Range Guides have to the Shaolin? I know Matthew has not told me everything,' he thought. 'What good is studying old scrolls that have nothing to do with me and learning how to fight in his new style when using my sword is far more efficient? It is the only way that I truly know how to defeat an enemy and to survive.'

*There is always another way. The thirst for blood leads only to death."

Kaz sensed the presence in his thoughts again, the gentle reprimand was meant to give instruction and comfort, but Kaz did not want to be comforted.

*What would you know about that? Have you ever come across someone who wished your death?* Kaz thought sarcastically.

*Yes, many years ago. I still would not kill him. His own arrogance will be his downfall.*

Kaz hesitated, a hint of fear and apprehension rising in him as he realized that he had responded with his own thoughts as if he had been doing it all his life. Courious about the developing link between them, Kaz attempted another question to see if he could learn how he was accomplishing such a feat.

*Who is this person? Does he still live? Kaz questioned.*

*Someone from my past, and I do not know. But I can at least answer one of your questions. You asked what link there is between the Range Guides and the Shaolin?"

*How did you . . .?*

*That is not important. You are that link, Kaz Oshay Caine.*

*Me?* Kaz asked bewildered. *I do not understand.*

*You will, in time. Sleep now.*

The sound of the flute came and Kaz fell asleep to its gentle tones.

The hooded monk sat quietly by the small man-made pond, his arm dangling in the water while the oversized goldfish brushed his fingers, looking for food. It had been a week since he had been out here last. The hood had been temporarily thrown back to allow the freshening breeze to brush his face. If someone were to spy the lone figure, they would be struck at the similarities found in a particular face in a certain portrait on the wall in the quarters of the visiting Range Guide. As he watched the fish, his mind drifted. 'If only I could be open about who I am,' he thought to himself. 'It is not right that I should stay hidden. Surely, there has to be another way.'

Hearing the rustle of fabric and soft footsteps, the monk moved the hood back to its customary place.

"Oh, it is you, Matthew," said the monk. "Where is Kaz today?"

"Going over some more documents regarding Peter Caine's father, Kwai Chang Caine. You should be proud of him. He is progessing quite rapidly. He has already advanced in the White Crane system since he arrived several months ago."

"I wish I could tell him myself. It should be a father's duty to instruct his son."

"You know you cannot." Matthew said, being realistic.

"If I do not, the anger that is there will never be healed."

"Yours or his?" Matthew asked.

The hooded monk shifted his weight to stare at his friend when he suddenly cried out. A pained look crossed his face and tears brimmed in his eyes.

Alarmed, Matthew rushed forward to help his friend. "Is it the old wound? I thought it would be totally healed by now."

"Physically, almost. Emotionally, I'm not so sure."

"You must not do this to yourself. If you are to heal, both in body and spirit, you must let go of the guilt and anger as well. It will continue to affect you where you are the most weak, your right hip. You do not need that cane any more than I need to grow hair."

"How can I let go? You do not understand. She raised our son alone. I should have been with her. I feel as if I abandoned them. Then to believe that my son was dead all these years only to find that he survived, how am I suppose to feel?"

Matthew gave a deep sigh. "Angry I am sure, but you did not abandon them. You respected her wishes."

"This has been going on since our line began," the hooded monk conceded.

"It was not always so, you know that. Kwai Chang Caine raised his son in the temple."

"Until that temple was destroyed by a renegade priest and both believed the other was dead." the hooded monk said bitterly.

"And that same priest was the key that brought father and son back together. Because of that, Peter Caine restored what is our home."

"Only to be lost, again." the hooded monk answered sadly, though the sadness was not for the young Shaolin of the past, it was fear for the Guide that must face an uncertain destiny.

Matthew, however, missed the underlining meaning. "No. You know Peter Caine's death has not happen, or you would not be here. Isn't that right, Paul Thomas Caine? Your son will succeed. The book states: and the Last shall save the other who was the beginning and the first of the new. You and I both know that Peter Caine was the beginning, not only of the new Shaolin order, but he was also one of the founders of the Range Guides."

"Matthew, we know that Peter Caine rebuilt the temple and brought the Shaolin back, but do not forget that a certain mercenary had a part in that as well. You and I both know that it was Peter Caine's son and Kermit Griffin's daughter that gave birth to the children who were the Guide's beginning and the continuation of the Caine line. I know my own family history."

"As do I. Do not forget, we are related in more ways than one."

"Do not remind me Matthew Griffin. How you came to be here is beyond me. I would have thought that from your line, you would have been a Guide." Caine said wryly.

"You know Kermit Griffin had twins, a boy and a girl. His daughter married Peter's son. She was more the mercenary. Griffin's son entered the temple. It was said that the grandchildren of both the line of Caine and Griffin were taken to Shambhala to protect them from the neutron wars, if you believe in Shambhala."

"Shambhala does exist," Caine insisted. "My ancestor's journal mentions such a place. And you know the Range Guides, though formed, did not emerge into this world until 600 years ago. My son is one of them. He has a right to know the full truth. I should have gone to him the moment I saw him."

"Kaz will come to you in time and then he will know the truth." Matthew placed a comforting hand on his distant cousin's shoulder. "Paul, there is one thing you can be grateful for. Be grateful that Ankar Moore did not learn that Kaz was your son. He surely would have killed him if he had known. Have you heard anything more of Oshay's whereabouts?"

"No. I am sure Kaz knows but I am "forbidden" to even speak with him. I wish I could see her one more time. She said we had union. I did not know what that meant. It wasn't long before I knew that I loved her. I stayed with her for more than a year. When she gave birth to our son, it was a joy beyond description. Then another Guide found us and asked for her aid. She said our union had ended though our love would always be powerful. I did not know what that meant either. All I knew was that I wished her to stay. I asked if I might take care of our son until she returned, but she wished to raise him as a Guide. She only knew her way of life, she did not know what a Shaolin was, though I tried to teach her. Before she left, I made her promise that our son should learn words. One day it would help him, I said. And I gave her an old journal to use in teaching him. Then I watched her take our son and ride away. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I had to respect her wishes and her ways. I vowed some day to find him. Little did I know that he would fine me after having heard that he had died. And now I fear he may be taken from me again before he can know who I am."

"Caine, your fears are unfounded. He will return."

"Yes, but then what? In order to fulfill a destiny, he must become Shaolin. He cannot use his skills as a Guide" Paul Thomas Caine breathed a deep sigh. "But I fear something just isn't right about this. Something is sure to go wrong and history will again be changed."

'Master?" Kaz came into the garden.

The hooded monk grew silent and lowered his head so his face was in shadow. Kaz looked at the strange monk with curious eyes. He had only seen glimpses of him during his Kung Fu training and continued to wonder who he was.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to interrupt."

"You are not interrupting, Kaz, we are finished here. What is it that you require?" Matthew said.

"There's something here that I do not understand."

"Let me see it." Matthew moved over to where Kaz stood. "Let's go back to the library. There may be another reference related to this one."

The hooded monk watched with longing as Matthew and Kaz left the garden. 'Matthew, you are wrong,' he thought. 'I shall know my son. It isn't right that I should remain hidden from him. He will need me, if not to aid him in his destiny, then to aid him in other ways. You cannot keep us apart forever. Though you believe there will come a time we will meet, I prefer to create that time. There was one thing you were right about, Matthew, Kaz is learning patience, but wil it be enough?'

Paul Thomas Caine waited for a few more minutes then rose and followed the two men, reaching a decision that he knew his friend and cousin would certainly not approve of. He would deal with the consequences later. It was time for the son to meet his father.

The air had the hint of winter as the days were growing shorter and the nights cooled. It had been six months since Caine had return. Sharing the large apartment with Peter had become both a blessing and a challenge. The additional items that Peter had added were taking a little getting used to. The computer was one thing, but the phone had proven to be more than a nuisance. Caine finally insisted that it be removed. Reluctantly, Peter had agreed. Nothing, however, proved more nerve racking than trying to meditate while Peter held his classes. Even though Caine had been pleased that Peter had taken Lo Si's advice and signed on as a volunteer instructor through the 101st Precinct to work with the youth in Chinatown, there were times when he wished that classes could have been held elsewhere. Peter had tried to explain to him earlier that his classes would return to the 101st Precinct's gym after the renovation had been completed, but for now, the only space that had been available was the large combination meditation space and private kwoon in their apartment.

"Could you not have spoken to the manager of the building and found space on one of the lower floors?" Caine had asked his son.

"Pop, all the offices are rented and you know that the first floor is taken up by the warehouse. Ours is the only space available. I promise I'll try to keep the kids out of your hair. It won't be for long, a couple of months."

That conversation happened four months ago and had done little good. Caine was feeling invaded. Normally, he enjoyed the sound of children and their enthusiasm. He had even enjoyed sitting in on Peter's lessons. His son was proving to be an excellent instructor. He was proud how his son was able to impart the very lessons that he had taught him. He also could not help but notice that two of Peter's students had very special qualities. He had spoken to Peter about those students and he was proud when Peter wanted to learn more about how to seek for such quailities in others.

Today, Caine needed the peace and quiet of meditation to sort out a difficult problem. His peace, however, had been shattered when the sound of children's angry voices forced him into acting as mediator. Caine was about to read a couple of boys the riot act in his own fashion when Peter came in from outside carrying an armload of packages. He caught the angry look in his father's eyes and knew they would talk later.

"Your students I believe?" his father asked, exasperation very evident in the tone of his voice.

Peter placed his packages near the door and looked around at the half-dozen students that had arrived early. Clutched firmly in his father's hands by the collar of their clothes were two boys that Peter recognized. These two boys never seemed to stay out of trouble. Caine shoved them forward, insisting without saying a word that it was Peter's responsibility to handle the situation, then left the room.

Peter could sense the rising storm as his father exited the kwoon and headed to another part of the apartment.

"Okay, what's the problem this time? May I ask what you're doing here? You know class doesn't begin for another half hour."

Tommy and Jason, the would be troublemakers, shuffled their feet as Peter looked from one boy to the other, expecting an answer.

"Jason said I can't become a priest. I can too, if I want."

"You can't be a Shaolin priest, you have to be part Chinese, yeah dike."

"Whoa, hold on there. There will be no name calling in this place." Peter said sternly. "Tommy, Jason, what did I tell you two the last time?"

Both boys answered in unison, "When you perceive that an act done to another is done to yourself, you have understood the great truth."

"Don't just repeat what I've said, explain to me what it means." Peter instructed.

Jason bowed his head, embarrassed at not having learned the meaning of the lesson.

"When you hurt others, you're hurting yourself."

"That's right Tommy. I'm pleased to see that you were paying attention. Now, what's this about becoming a priest?" Peter questioned.

"Tommy thinks he's being trained as a priest, just because he's learning how to fight." Jason again piped up.

Peter's voice became sterner having heard the sarcasm in Jason's voice. "Cool it, Jason. We'll discuss your attitude later." Peter looked at the rest of the faces and asked, "Now, I want to know what happened here to make Master Caine so angry. It's not like my father to storm out of here the way he did."

"I thought you were Master Caine," said a third boy.

"I am, Christopher, but he's really the first. To avoid confusion, you can call me Master Peter. Now, I asked a question, I would like an answer."

At first the six children did not say a word. Then a girl, Allison, spoke up. "We came in early and he was just sitting there."

"And you just barged in making a great deal of noise."

Another of the six children answered, "Well, it was really Jason and Tommy. They were already fighting."

"And the rest of you didn't bother to remember the rules about coming up to the fourth floor?" Peter questioned as six blank faces stared back at him. "Okay, first of all, my father was "not just sitting there. He was probably meditating. He needs peace and quiet to do that. You just do not come barging in making a lot of noise during his time of meditation. If you're early, you can wait in the hall, but you must be quiet. My father and I share this place. He needs to have his time alone. And if there are any more arguments, you take them outside. When you bring them in here, you disturb the harmony of this place. Now, I want you two boys to sit this class out. You will sit in the doorway and watch. No argument. Do it. We will talk more later. The rest of you set up the mats and remove your shoes. We'll begin class as soon as the others get here."

Peter watched the two children as they moved to the doorway. Jason grumbled reluctantly and sat down hard, crossing his arms. His face conveyed a scowl. Tommy, on the other hand, sat with his head bowed in humility. Peter could not help but smile as he recalled an earlier conversation with his father. It was during one of the times Caine had observed the class. He had spoken to Peter about the potentiality within the two boys. His father had said that Tommy especially had the potential to be a priest, if properly trained. He had said that he could sense the Tao within Tommy. That statement had surprised Peter. He had not known that such things were possible to know.

More students arrived and the class began. The hour seemed to melt away as teacher and students became focused on the lessons for that day. When the class was over and the children were leaving to meet their parents outside, Peter called Tommy aside.

"Tommy, you have questions about becoming Shaolin?" Peter prompted, sensing that the boy was disturbed about the teasing he had received.

"Yeah, but Jason says I can't because I'm not Chinese."

"Well I'm only part Chinese and I'm a priest." Peter said. "Actually there have been a few people who have attended Shaolin Temples who were not Chinese. A good friend of my father's and the Ancient, Michael Lowery attended my father's temple in California. Besides, becoming a priest is a great responsibility. It takes years of study. Are you sure that's what you really want? There aren't many temples around here."

Tommy stared up at the young Shaolin in awe. "Can I attend your father's temple?"

"I am afraid that would not be possible. The temple was destroyed many years ago."

"Why don't you rebuild it? Then others could come and become Shaolin, too."

Peter stared at the child in surprise. 'Rebuild the temple?' Su Lum Temple?' "You know, Tommy, no one has ever suggested that before. It would seem the student has taught the teacher. We shall see. You better get going. Your mother is waitng."

"Thanks, Master Caine," Before leaving, Tommy turned and gave Peter the Shaolin salute.

As Tommy left, his question still remained in Peters mind. 'I wonder why no one even thought of rebuilding.' Then Peter realized the most obvious of answers. The memories would have been far too painful. He recalled his own reaction when his father and he had gone back home. Seeing his mother's grave and the ruins had brought out a great deal of pain, but at the same time, those pain-filled memories had been put to rest. Maybe there could be a chance to rebuild some day. And maybe, knowledge that both his father and he had could be passed down to a whole new generation. As far as he knew, besides the Ancient, Master Kahn, his father, and himself, he didn't even remember if any other monks or students had survived or where they might be. Even if the temple could be rebuilt, it would take a miracle and a team of people to do it. Peter sighed deeply. 'Oh, well. It's probably just a pipe dream. Still, it would be cool to be able to fulfill the dreams of a little boy.' recalling the look in Tommy's eyes at the possibility of becoming Shaolin. 'Who knows, anything is possible.'

Kaz Oshay had been reading for more than two hours before Matthew had redirected his research and was able to help him find more about the man's life he was studying. He still questioned his relationship to this man, and yet, he could not help but feel a familiarity about him. When Matthew had given him the old worn journal, he told him it had belonged to his ancestor, Kwai Chang Caine.

"It is so you will know him better," Matthew had said.

The journal may have helped Kaz to understand the man's thoughts, but he still questioned what purpose it served.

'I do not understand what Matthew is asking me to do,' Kaz thought. 'Why am I studying this man's life when I should be trying to know Peter Caine? Isn't he the one I must save?'

Kaz opened the journal. Its pages, brittle with age, crackled. Examining the delicate script, he came upon a passage that brought a familiar pang to his heart.

"It is late. I cannot sleep. I lost my son last night to a renegade priest. I cannot join him until I have found peace within my soul again. Ping Hai wishes for me to stay. He believes that all may not be lost. My path, which seemed so clear, is obscured. There is nothing for me here. Perhaps some day I will return to rest with both my son and wife, but not now. Peter, I love you, my son, and I miss you. No words can describe the anguish that I feel at your loss. Please forgive me for not being there when you needed me."

The passage brought on memories of another's words written within the journal he held in his possession. That passage always sparked painful feelings, and he recalled the first time he had read it.

Kaz pulled out the worn leather journal from its place in the brown leather pouch he carried and rubbed its surface. With his other hand, he picked up the journal of Kwai Chang Caine. Something in its ancient pages also seemed to pull at Kaz. It was as if these two books were a continuation of the other, like the words of a father, and a son.

'So much pain and so powerful. It happened so long ago, I do not understand why it continues to affect me,' Kaz thought.

"Perhaps it is because it reminds you of the loss of a loved one."

Kaz spun around as the familiar voice intruded on his thoughts only to realize that the voice had not spoken to him in the usual fashion, but rang out like any other. The voice had come from the hooded monk who stood near the doorway leading to the garden.

"You are the one who speaks to me through my thoughts. Who are you?" Kaz asked in surprise.

"A friend. Who did you lose?"

Kaz turned away, struggling to regain control of the rising emotions that he was sure the hooded monk had sensed. It was a continued battle that he would lose too often. The young man swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to choke on his answer, "My parents, though I never knew my father."

Kaz became aware that the hooded monk had not heard him. "Master? Is something wrong?" Kaz inquired.

The hooded monk looked thoughtful for a moment but finally responded, "I should not be here. Matthew believes that in time, everything will be revealed, as it should. He believes you should be concentrating on what needs to be done and not be burdened with other knowledge, regardless of its importance or not. I am afraid Matthew and I disagree. It has always been that way between us. I should go. You need to return to your studies."

Kaz could sense the confusion and pain in the hooded monk and did not wish him to leave. "Please, Master. Tell me what you meant when you said that the passage might have reminded me of a lost loved one. Did you lose someone as well?"

The monk hid his surprise at how perceptive Kaz was as he responded, "I also lost my parents. My mother was killed by the mutants when I was just an infant. I lost my father when I was 10 years old. He died trying to protect me. Not all Statemen honored travelers back then. There were too many of them. My father tried not to harm them, but in the end, they overpowered him. They left me to die. I entered this temple soon after, seeking safety from the mutants and stayed, until . . ." the monk's voice fading as his own emotions rose to the surface.

Compassion filled Kaz as he sensed the man's pain and tried to reach out in his own way to help. "Please, tell me more." He motioned for the monk to sit and watched as he took a seat not too far from him. Curious, Kaz tried to gaze deeper in the hood, but the monk turned his head further obscuring his features.

Trying to get the monk to continue with his tale, Kaz gently prompted him with another question , "Who was your father?"

"He was Shaolin, as his father was before him, from father to son, clear back to . . . well, let's just say there were a lot of Shaolin in my family," the hooded monk said with pride.

"I learned that my father was Shaolin, too, but I don't know very much about him. I don't know if I ever will," Kaz responded angrily.

"I can sense you are angry, my friend. Tell me what troubles you."

Kaz struggled as he sensed the concern coming from the hooded monk. He did not like revealing his inner most private thoughts, but something about the man said that he could be trusted. Perhaps it was because the priest had always seemed to be there when he needed calming, or maybe it was because they both shared the loss of family.

"I was going to confront him in regards to my mother," Kaz began. " But it's too late for that. He is gone. I do not even know what he looked like."

"Perhaps it's not too late," said the hooded monk, seeing the opening he had been looking for.

"How can it not be too late?" Kaz asked with exasperation.

"You were told that he died, killed by a renegade Guide."

"How do you know this?"

"That is not important. You were not told the truth."

Kaz's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Kaz's eyes widened as he watched the monk silently lower the hood in answer to his question. He stared into the face that had been concealed for so long. It was as if the portrait in his quarters had come to life.

"It cannot be," the young man whispered. "You have the same eyes, the same features. You are Peter Caine! But that is impossible!"

"No, I am not Peter. Just as you have the face of Kwai Chang Caine, I have the face of his son."

Kaz rose from the bench and backed away from the stranger, shaking his head in disbelief and denial.

"Wait. There is more, Kaz. I am your father. I am Paul Thomas Caine."

The snow was blinding. Peter searched with his chi to discover the whereabouts of his friend. It had been five days since his disappearance. Even Donny Double D had no clues as to how to fine Kermit. At his father's suggestion, Peter had gone to Kermit's office and sat there concentrating on his friend. His father said it would help him "tune in" to where Kermit might be found. "Sometimes one picks up on another's essence from something that person had touched," he had said. His father had been right.

"Kermit!"

Peter came upon the man sprawled in a patch of red stained snow. He rushed to Kermit's side and placed his fingers on the pulse point. Kermit was still alive, barely. Peter could not help notice the condition of his friend's clothing and the absense of a warm jacket. He swiftly pulled off his own jacket and wrapped it around his friend's quickly cooling body.

"Pop! Over here." Tears stung Peter's eyes, as much from the wind blown snow as the anguish that he felt for his friend. "We've got to get him to a hospital. I don't think we can do much for him here."

Peter hitched in a quick breath when he saw what had been done to his friend as his father lifted up Kermit's torn shirt, exposing the wound. The cut was long and deep. No small knife could have possibly inflicted so much damage. He watched as Caine pulled out his small herbal pouch and poured some in his hands. He crushed the leaves together then applied them to the wound. At the same time, Peter reached into his own pouch and brought out a cloth to wrap the herbs in place.

"Pop, someone must call for help. We were lucky to find him. He was just dumped out here to die."

"You must give him your strength, my son. I shall go for help. You must keep him alive."

"All right, but hurry. If he stays out here much longer, hypothermia will settle in and we may lose him."

"I shall endeavor to hurry."

Peter watched as his father rushed off to get help. *Please Pop, don't take too long.*

Peter turned back to his friend and pulled the jacket closer around him to fight off the deepening cold. As Peter tried to keep Kermit warm and focused his chi to help strengthen him, he became aware that someone was standing behind him. Peter spun around, ready to defend his injured friend. Bon Bon Hei stood in front of him, oblivious to the cold.

"What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Peter eyed the man suspiciously then his gaze fell upon the bloody sword still grasped in the Tong leader's hands.

"You're the one who attacked Kermit."

"You guessed right boy," Bon Bon Hei brought up the sword. "Now it is your turn."

As Bon Bon Hei brought the sword to bare, Peter sent out his chi and the sword started to glow red-hot. Bon Bon Hei, shocked by the sudden heat, dropped the sword in the snow. It gave off a hiss as the cold quenched the fire.

"So, you too, are now Shaolin."

"You better believe it," Peter replied.

"I warn you, Shaolin. I am the emissary of the Dark Warrior. He will return. You and your father will not be able to stop us."

"I don't think so. My father defeated the Dark Warrior once before. He'll do so again. What can you do?" Peter said.

"Do not underestimate me. Your friend here did when I returned from Shambhala. He was unable to act against me. Listen well, Caine," Bon Bon Hei spoke menacingly. "If you interfere, more of your friends and family will die, including your father. Leave Chinatown."

"As my father would say, 'I shall leave when the time is right,' Bon Bon Hei."

"Do not mock me priest. You think I am bluffing? You will soon know that I am not. You forget, I have the powers of the Dark Warrior. Guard well, Shaolin. You cannot be everywhere. Do not reveal this meeting or your father will be the first to die." With those last words, Bon Bon Hei disappeared along with the sword that had fallen in the snow.

Peter picked up his unconscious friend and cradled him in his arms again sending out his chi to give strength to Kermit. The thought of Bon Bon Hei back in Chinatown sent shivers down Peter's spine. He remembered his very words to Captain Simms when she had asked him if he considered Bon Bon Hei a threat to Chinatown. He had answered, "No, to mankind!" And yet, he could not help but notice when he heated the sword in Bon Bon Hei's hands, he had not retaliated with any use of any powers. 'If he did have the Dark Warrior's powers, why didn't he just kill me? Why all the bravado?' he asked himself. 'Why does he want me to leave Chinatown?' Peter was not going to get any answers at that moment. Clutching his friend tighter, Peter waited out the storm and his father's return.

"Oh, Pop, please hurry."

Peter sat next to his friend in the recovery room of the hospital. Dr. Sabourine had said that Kermit Griffin was lucky to even be alive with the amount of blood he had lost. One question though was in the forefront of Peter's mind, What was Kermit doing with Bon Bon Hei and why did the Tong leader attack him?

When Caine had returned with help, Peter sensed that his father had felt the disturbance in both is chi and thoughts. Caine had handed him some herbs to strengthen his depleted chi, but Peter could still sense his father's concern for his emotional state. Peter refrained from telling what was wrong; choosing to keep his own council and remembering the warning that Bon Bon Hei had given him. Instead, he had insisted it was because he was worried about Kermit. His father had not pushed the issue, and Peter was glad that he had let him keep his privacy. He knew, however, it would not be long before both his father and Kermit would want answers.

At that moment, Kermit stirred. His eyes fluttered open and he started to lift his right arm to rub the sleep from his eyes when he felt the pulling of the bandages.

"Uh, what happ . . " Kermit struggled to speak, his throat raw from disuse.

Peter reached up and grabbed a couple of ice chips and placed them in Kermit's mouth, knowing full well what condition hospitals and medical procedures could leave a patient's throat in, having experienced it more times than he could count.

"My father and I found you. Can you remember what happened?"

"No. I had come from talking with Donnie Double D and was sitting in my car when two guys attacked me. They used chloroform. I don't even remember how I got injured. How long has it been?"

"You were missing for five days," Peter said. "The precinct even called in the FBI but they gave up the search when nothng turned up after two days. Captain Simms called my father and me in after that."

"Why can't I remember anything?" Kermit asked.

"I wouldn't worry too much. Your memory will probably return later," Peter replied.

"Where did you find me?" Kermit questioned. "How did you find me? No, forget that, I don't want to know. Probably a Shaolin thing. I'm just glad you did. Pete, I could use your help here. I know Bon Bon Hei is up to no good, but I can't get anything out of anyone. You know Chinatown. Maybe you've heard something."

Peter thought for a moment and debated whether to tell Kermit what had transpired between him and Bon Bon Hei. His hands felt tied at the prospect of another possible attack on friends and family. 'Would Bon Bon Hei really make good on his threat?' he thought. He again questioned whether Bon Bon Hei really did have the powers of the Dark Warrior. 'Perhaps he's bluffing and I've given him more power than he's worth. Still, something isn't right here. He could still retaliate in some way.' Peter felt afraid, but it wasn't for himself. He knew his father could handle Bon Bon Hei. He had done it before. But Bon Bon Hei did threaten to kill his father if he even mentioned the meeting between them. Kermit was another story. The Tong leader could still go after him again to get at Peter. He had to find the means to protect his friend. Then a plan began to take shape in his mind. It would be, at least, one way that a certain ex-mercenary could be protected from the likes of Bon Bon Hei.

"Peter, I asked you a question, have you heard anything?"

Kermit's question intruded on his thoughts.

"No," Peter answered, hating the fact that he had to lie to his friend. "Kermit, have you heard from Paul?" he asked instead, changing the subject and trying to sound casual.

"Paul? What does he have to do with this?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to know if you heard from him," Peter said defensively. "I have a right to know, Kermit. It's been three years since he left. Mom has all but given up finding him alive. Carolyn and Kelly haven't said much but I can tell they're both thinking the same thing."

Kermit didn't answer at first. "You're going to be mad at me."

"You know where Paul's been don't you?"

"We've been keeping contact by email," Kermit answered softly.

"You're right. I should be mad at you. You've known the whole time and you didn't tell me."

"Paul made me swear an oath, Peter." Kermit answered defensively. "The business with Cooper wasn't over yet. Copper wasn't the ringleader. He had orders higher up. He wanted to be sure that you, Annie, and every one else were not only protected, but knew nothing about it in case they came after you. He's been tracking down corruption you would not believe."

"Try me. It can't be any worse than what my father and I faced."

"I can't go into details. If I did . . ."

"Then you'd have to kill me, I know," Peter replied with the old joke that was always being passed around.

"This isn't funny, Caine." Kermit's voice was serious.

"I'm not laughing. Where is he Kermit? You know I'll find out sooner or later. You may as well level with me."

Kermit sighed deeply. "You're about as persistent as your father."

"I'll accept that as a compliment. Spill it."

"Yes, I had kept in touch with Paul. I've been letting him know what's been happening at the precinct. And before you ask, no I did not tell him about you becoming a priest. You can tell him yourself."

"You said 'had.' Something's happened that you haven't told me yet." Peter said, concern growing.

"We've kept in contact up until two months ago. About the same time Bon Bon Hei started showing up in Chinatown again. I thought they were connected."

"But they're not?" Peter questioned.

"I found out that much, before Bon Bon Hei's men grabbed me. Why Bon Bon Hei is back, I don't know, but Paul's disappeared completely."

"Do you think you could find him again?"

"Oh, yeah. You know I can." Kermit stated. "But, you might need my help with Bon Bon Hei."

"My father and I can handle Bon Bon Hei. I need Paul, Kermit. Mom needs him. His family needs him. He's been gone far too long. Isn't having him home reason enough?" Peter decline to go into any more details. "If my Dad's in trouble, next to my father, you are the only person I trust to bring Paul back alive. As soon as you heal, do what you can."

"You bet, kid."

Peter turned away from his friend. Even though he did not like the implication that Paul was in trouble somewhere, he was grateful that he would not have to worry about protecting Kermit from Bon Bon Hei. He wished he could help Kermit in his search, but with the threat of the return of the Dark Warrior, Peter knew he had no choice but to remain in Chinatown. He could take comfort that, at least, his friend would be busy elsewhere.

Kaz was stunned. Here was the very person he had wanted to confront for so long, and now he did not even know what to say.

Paul Thomas Caine stared at his son. He could sense the shock coming from him. He knew no other way to break the news. He was about to explain further when he heard voices. Matthew was returning. Paul did not want him to discover what he had done. He knew there would come a time when he would need to confront his cousin on the matter, but not now. Quickly, Caine replaced the hood, put his finger to his lips and projected his thoughts to his son.

*We shall talk later, my son.*

Kaz watched as his father rose and walked back out to the garden, and then turned to see Matthew enter. His eyes narrowed as he saw the one who had lied to him.

*No, my son. Do not confront him here. There will be another time. Return to your studies.*

Kaz responded to his father's words through his own thoughts.

*I should kill him.*

*It is not the Shaolin way,* Caine replied.

*He deceived me.*

*As was I, though not by him. I, too, wanted to kill the one who deceived me.*

*How were you deceived?* Kaz questioned.

*I was told you had died.*

*I do not understand.*

*Meet me in your quarters. I will explain then.*

Kaz gathered his belongings and rushed from the library without speaking to Matthew. If he even made any eye contact, he knew he would not be able to stop himself from challenging the Shaolin. He made his way through the corridors trying to avoid as many of the other monks as possible. The way he was feeling, he would probably react and chop the person's head off if they tried giving him a pleasant greeting. When he reached his quarters, he flung his leather pouch on the bed. At first, he did not see that Caine was standing by the portrait, his hood still drawn up around his face.

Kaz continued to pace back-and-forth like a caged animal. He had not felt so much rage since Ankar Moore had taken him to fight in Deathsport. 'Why did Matthew lie to me about my father,' he asked himself. 'And now that I learn that my father is alive, why can't I summon up the courage to question him about Oshay?' Kaz had not realized that he had broadcasted his thoughts.

"I did not hurt your mother. I loved her."

Kaz spun around and faced the hooded monk.

"What do you know about it? You were not there when she asked for you and you did not come! You were not there to see the pain in her eyes." Kaz fairly shouted at the man standing before him.

"No, I wasn't," Caine replied quietly "I couldn't. Ankar Moore nearly succeeded in killing me. I barely had the opportunity to hand Adriani my pouch, which I see that you now carry. I am pleased to see that she succeeded in returning it to your mother. I could not stop him from mortally wounding Adriani. But you need to calm down. You are acting like him." Caine raised his hand and pointed toward the younger man in the portrait. "You seem to have more of his personality than his fath