by Rick Scott
Curse the fates… Chow Meugo glowered at the two soldiers still advancing. Both Soul Masters.
They’d be at a distinct disadvantage if they didn’t close the gap quickly. He looked to Li Wei. “Move in! Now!”
The Blade Master sprinted ahead and then literally flew across the dirt street as he lunged towards the Ice Soul Master with a Blade Art. His twin Dao swords met sharp resistance as the Soul Master countered with an incredibly timed shield of ice. Li Wei’s form was broken by the unexpected parry and the Soul Master took advantage by both skirting backwards and launching a spear of ice directly into Li Wei’s exposed chest.
The ice shattered as if hitting rock as it slammed into him, but Li Wei cried out with pain as the force from it still permeated through his impenetrable skin. Recovering quickly, he charged ahead and began blocking with his blades as the Soul Master showered him with multiple chunks of ice, thrown from his palms.
Chow Meugo grimaced. These men were not only powerful, but skilled.
“Get up!” he shouted to Zhe Ahn as he leapt forward himself.
Zhe Ahn rose to her feet as he charged ahead, summoning more Dark Qi as she cast another spell.
“HELL’S SHACKLES!”
Flaming red chains sprung from the ground about the Ice Soul Master, wrapping him in thick coils. He screamed for a moment as the chains bound him, scorching his flesh, but with a flex, the chains broke apart, ice flying as he invoked a protective sheath. Chow Meugo surged in following the distraction and went to work with his claws, employing the rapid strikes of the Badger Fist Arts.
His fists flew in a blur, each hit landing with a powerful burst of Qi.
The Soul Master cried out as his blood filled the air. But he was no peasant like these villagers. Even under the assault his tempered skin yielded only momentarily, before his body healed right before his eyes.
A form suddenly crashed down next to him and Chow Meugo found himself crying out in pain as something slammed into his chest with the force of a falling building. He flew backwards as the third figure finally joined the fray, his foot still elevated with the kick that had sent him flying.
Chow Meugo tasted blood in his mouth as he finally slid to a stop some fifty feet away. Such power…
The man that had kicked him stood taller than the other two. His long hair, bound in a topknot, was streaked with gray, as was his short beard. His robes bore the insignia of a high-ranking officer and as he brandished his jian, the straight, dual-edged sword crackled with blue sparks.
A Lightning Blade Master…
His stomach tightened. They now faced not only an officer of the imperial Zhou army, but one that had to be at least 17th Dan. Lightning was one of the most difficult elements to master, no matter which discipline, and even a base practitioner of the arts would need the force of a doma that strong to summon the power of lightning itself.
Yet despite all that, Chow Meugo grinned.
Every instinct in his body filled him with the bloodlust of battle. There was nothing more glorious and honorable than besting a superior foe. But he didn’t become the Honey Badger by chasing honor. Chow Meugo looked behind him, to the bargaining chip he’d left alive for just a situation such as this. With a quick roll, he grabbed the fat little boy by his robes and held him aloft.
“Please no!” he screamed, his feet kicking. “Please!”
“Stand down your men!” Chow Meugo shouted. “Or I slit the boy’s throat!”
* * *
General Amikazu halted. A hostage situation was not what he’d expected.
He fumed at the beast of a man holding the boy captive. At least one was still alive…but were there more? He looked at the boy, perhaps ten or twelve. But there was a gold stripe next to the orange trim of his rope.
“What is your name, son?” he spoke directly to the boy.
He stared back in fear, his deep brown eyes wide with terror.
“I know you’re far older than you seem. Speak freely now. What is your name?”
The boy finally spoke. “W-wu Long, sir.”
“You need not fear these animals, Wu Long. I could slay them before they even attempted to harm you. Do you understand?”
“You want to try?” the claw wielder said with a leer. “Keep up the talk and I’ll kill him right now.”
His two lieutenants, Seikeo and Yu Fung, joined him at his side.
Amikazu ignored the Tsu warrior and spoke directly to Wu Long again. “Where is the boy known as Kenji? Did he escape?”
“I-I don’t know…” Wu Long said. “I don’t remember seeing him.”
Amikazu grimaced. He didn’t recall seeing him amongst the bodies either.
Curse this fate…
“Shall I take care of him, General?” Yu Fung asked, summoning his Qi.
As a Force Soul Master, Yu Fung’s skills could easily send the Tsu barbarian flying far away from the boy. Amikazu nodded and stepped back behind his subordinates. As Yu Fung summoned his Qi, Amikazu summoned his own.
Sacred Arts, he recited the mantra as he prepared his blade. Shadow Point Technique.
Touching the top of his blade with two fingers, the lightning was replaced by a dark hue that converged at its tip. He then whispered a short prayer and raised his jian to strike.
Amikazu thrust his blade through Yu Fung’s back, piercing through his defenses and stabbing his heart. The Soul Master clutched his chest as he fell to his knees, letting out a groan.
“Yu Fung!” Seikeo shouted and spun about to his comrade.
Amikazu forced himself not to hesitate as he executed the Shadow Point Technique a second time, plunging his jian through his lieutenant’s chest. Seikeo stared up at him with incomprehension and shock in his eyes, the bitter look of betrayal.
His stomach lurched at the sight. Killing them both through the back would have been far easier. But the plan was in motion now and he could afford no reservations.
“Forgive me,” he said as he pulled Seikeo into an embrace, twisting his blade. “Your sacrifice will be remembered.”
Amikazu freed his jian and Seikeo fell to the ground next to his peer. The sickness in his stomach turned to anger as he looked at the bodies. These were good men, both of them. Loyal and trustworthy. They didn’t deserve a death such as this and especially not by his hand. He glowered as he pointed his blade towards the claw-wielding Tsu. He wanted to slay all of them. Their failure had cost him his men’s lives instead of their own.
“I have lost much today because of you,” he said with vehemence.
The man stared back at him, perplexed, as did all three of the worthless sellblades. Had they succeeded, and presented Kenji’s body, then they would have been the next to join the pile of corpses behind him—the perfect physical evidence to present to the emperor, a surprise Tsu attack in the heart of the empire. But now he needed them still…and there could be no witnesses.
Slowly he approached the boy.
“You traitor!” Wu Long shouted hysterically, trying to free himself from the Tsu’s grasp. “What did you do?”
Amikazu steeled himself yet again and with a move too fast for even the sellblade to see, slit Wu Long’s throat. The boy failed to utter a cry as his life bled out. The clawed man finally reacted when it spilled hot on his arm, and he dropped Wu Long to the ground.
Your sacrifice will also be remembered… Amikazu internalized the prayer as he looked over what was left of Han Village. As will the sacrifice made by all of you.
For the plan to succeed, history could not be allowed to repeat itself. The destructive nature of the Han arts needed to be lost forever.
The clawed man leered up at him with a laugh. “Ah... Purple Leaf…”
Amikazu scowled. “I assume you must be Honey Badger.”
The man, Honey Badger, laughed again, foul and distasteful. “I hope you’ve brought the rest of our m—”
Amikazu didn’t let him finish, snatching him by the throat. “You incompetent worm. Had I the choice,
I would have paid double for the Iron Company to send far better than the likes of you. I offered enough to afford the Iron Queen herself, but you apparently were the next-best thing. But looking at the results, I now find that very hard to believe. No way are you even close to her caliber.”
The Badger grimaced in the chokehold, fighting him, but Amikazu flexed his doma, exerted his Qi. The Tsu was strong, perhaps close to 12th Dan, but was clearly no match for him at 21st. Amikazu released him and as anticipated, the Tsu rabble scowled, but held his tongue and backed away.
“You’ve failed. The boy the demon attacked is not here.”
“Boy?” the woman clad in black said. “Maybe you gave the wrong instructions. Or spell. Because the ‘boy’ you just killed said it attacked a woman.”
This had to be the witch. The one to which the summon spell was entrusted. “Did you cast it correctly?”
The tall man with the blades laughed. “That was my question.”
Amikazu’s chest tightened. To have so much depending on scum like this. But there was no other choice now.
“A large woman with golden hair,” the Badger said. “That’s what the boy claimed. But we saw none like her here.”
This wasn’t possible. Not if that witch had cast the spell correctly. And by ending up in Han Village she must have done so. “Where is the demon now?”
The three of them went silent.
Imbeciles…Was this truly what he had to rely upon?
Amikazu pondered what could have transpired. Could the boy have escaped the demon somehow? If so which way would he have traveled? To Amatsu perhaps or downriver to Kurogane to the south? Or did he flee directly into the forest itself? No matter. The demon itself would tell them. “If any of you want any hope of payment, this is what you’ll do.” He exerted his Qi with another flex of his doma and by their subtle reactions, he was certain they could all feel his power. “Find that demon. The one it seeks is still alive.”
“And what do we do once we find him?” the witch said. “How will you find us then?”
Amikazu studied the woman…she was clearly quick-witted, but not the leader it seemed. He was only ever given the name of Honey Badger from the Iron Company. Perhaps it was best he confer mainly with her. “What Dan are you?”
She flicked her long hair. “Eleventh…blue tier.”
More than good enough, Amikazu thought. And she appeared to be a practitioner of the Dark Arts as well, which would place her effective level of a Dan much higher. Amikazu produced a small scroll from his robes and tossed it to the woman. “Upon that is a spell. Catch a wild sparrow and enchant it with the scroll. It will find its way to me.”
“Hey,” the man with the Dao blades said. “If it enters another village you want us to do the same?”
“No, absolutely not.” The loss of one branch of the artisan schools was bad enough, but a necessary sacrifice for what was to come. “You are to remain hidden as you have until this point. Contact me once you’ve found the boy.”
“We can still kill him though, right?” Honey Badger said.
Amikazu smirked. “It would perhaps be in your best interest to, yes.”
Barbarians…
Amikazu went over the plan within his mind. It was flawed now, but not unsalvageable. He looked at his two dead subordinates. He supposed dead bodies could still tell a tale no matter which ones they turned out to be. “Destroy what’s left of this village and then leave immediately. More troops will be here soon. When you’ve recovered the boy, send word by sparrow immediately.”
“As you wish, Purple Leaf.” The man, Honey Badger, leered at him with thinly veiled contempt.
He couldn’t trust these plundering bandits any more than if they were still part of the Tsu army, but he would have to use them for now. “You’ll receive your payment when you complete your task. A bonus if you do so quickly.”
Amikazu didn’t wait for a response as he summoned the Qi within his doma and channeled his meridians towards the Qinggong arts. He took to the air, leaving them behind, stepping upon the wind itself.
Another long journey back to the capital now. He’d traveled through the night to reach Han Village and his body was being sustained by his Qi alone. But he would have to push it further. Time was still of the essence and the hardest part of the plan now lay ahead.
One final meeting with the emperor.
Chapter 19 – River woes
Sleep evaded Kenji as he lay within the tent next to Waru. The old man snored soundly, perhaps already drunk from his wine. Kenji envied him. Although his body was tired, his mind was restless. Thoughts of who he was, or who he had been, collided with the horrors of seeing his entire village and father killed. It was a turmoil of anguish and grief, layered with pain.
Everyone had died because of him and yet he still didn’t fully understand why. Why had they come for him? And why did they want him dead?
He supposed only Olja would be able to tell him that.
Kenji sat up and stared out of the tent to where the Xjian woman rested next to the fire. A sleeping giant. He prayed she would have the answers he needed. Glimpsing further out of the tent he saw Shinoto and Chet Fai still standing watch on the sloop. He had purposefully avoided speaking to either of them earlier when they had changed shifts, feigning weariness to dodge any probing questions. But now, in his solitude, he perhaps had far more questions of his own than either of them could ask.
Who was this Bloody Duke? And who was he for that matter? The thoughts frustrated him.
He watched as Chet Fai went through a routine of basic forms while balancing on the edge of the boat. Kenji had to admit, he was quite skillful, performing the various stances and Qi-channeling exercises with both precision and grace.
Perhaps he had the right idea. He needed to do something to get his mind off of all of this. Reaching for the pack he had retrieved from the boat, he rummaged through the tomes he had secured from his homestead. He opened one of the books on the Han arts first, but after reading just a few pages he found he already knew much of what lay inside. He decided to read the history of the Tsu Wars next. Perhaps there would be some knowledge about the Bloody Duke there. It was still strange to even consider that he was a person other than who he thought himself to be. And a person he knew almost nothing about, at that. It was like finding out he’d been adopted and his entire life a lie.
Although sadly…that seemed to be exactly the case—a life lived as a lie.
He paged through the tome of dense script. It was like nothing he’d ever read before, seeming more like a record for battles and historical events dating back nearly a century. Even the language used formal script and there were some characters he didn’t recognize. From what he could understand of it, there were mentions of specific battle and tactics. Strategy. Losses and skirmishes. He paged further into the book to see if he could perhaps glimpse his new namesake, but he could find no reference to the Bloody Duke or Li Wan Fu.
Li Wan Fu… no that doesn’t sound like me at all…
Putting the history book to the side, he was about to read the book of spirit beasts next, but his hand brushed against the journal his father had written. Knowing what he did now, an overwhelming sense of curiosity gripped him. Could his father have written something about him within it?
Opening the tome, Kenji found the writing inside disorganized and haphazard, more of a notebook than a journal. But upon the first page, he saw something that immediately caught his attention.
Alternative Applications of Traditional Han Techniques by Xian Lu Han.
He immediately thought back to the spell his father had used to send him back through time. Had Xian Lu indeed been researching his own variation of the mystic arts? A sense of excitement filled him as he leafed through the book. The notes were scattered and Kenji had to flip back and forth through the pages, but slowly he began to piece together the scattered thoughts of his father. The entire concept seemed to stem from the idea that the rope techniques cou
ld be used in more creative ways—employing both regression and advancement to achieve new effects besides simply concentrating Qi.
“The varying degrees of the ropes can be thought of like a doma. Its years in length, like stored Qi. It can be expended minutely or all at once and in many forms. Likewise, a second’s worth of black rope is able to affect more material and to a greater degree than a second’s worth of off-white. If time is held as the constant, as opposed to the object it affects, then the power of the effect itself becomes the variable.” –Xian Lu Han.
He pondered that a moment. Quite a different way to look at rebirthing indeed.
Kenji read several more of his father’s theories. Some combined the elements of time with those of more common elements, such as a tool for restoration that combined the elements of metal and water to remove rust. There was even a theory to reverse the seasons within the bounds of a rope, to produce summer heat in the winter or winter cold in summer.
Before he knew it, Kenji was immersed in the wild imaginations of his father. Xian Lu was more brilliant than he’d ever known. The more he read, the more his own ideas began to spark. Just how much could the simple principle of time manipulation be applied? Having no doma, Kenji had never considered the arts beyond what they were purposed for, using only what his father had taught him from the traditional Han tomes…but now.
Kenji touched the scar on his stomach. He indeed had a doma…and perhaps one more powerful than any chief of the Han could ever hope to produce. Yet it was still sealed away, but what if he could break that seal? If he could tap into his doma, what possibilities could he unlock?
“What are you reading?”
Shinoto’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The small girl stood just outside the tent, peeking through at him. His heart leapt with excitement to see her, eager to share what he’d just read.
Kenji gave her a smile and she returned it weakly. He had avoided talking with her before, but perhaps he needed to put aside his own thoughts and feelings now. Despite him wanting to hide the terrible secret Waru had told him, Shinoto was still his closest friend, and she was suffering a loss as painful as he was—perhaps even more so. He at least had had the opportunity to say goodbye.