by Fred Yu
“I’m only the messenger.”
“A messenger who asks too many questions.”
Feng maintained his grin for a moment longer. He leaned closer to whisper something. The messenger, unable to hear him, also leaned forward.
Feng drew a knife and stabbed the messenger in the forearm, planting the blade between the two bones above his wrist so deep the knife pierced through the embroidered sleeves and penetrated the wooden table.
The messenger screamed. Feng brushed aside the man’s sword, grabbed his collar, and yanked his face close. “Where is she, you lowlife scum? Whom do you work for?”
The messenger continued to scream.
“Where is she?” Feng shouted.
Then, outside in the distance a shrill whistle approached at alarming speed. A dark cloud was flying in, screaming like a thousand tortured cats. Feng was mesmerized. He was entranced by the idea that something somewhere could launch a swarm of missiles so dense it covered the sun.
Equally fast Feng broke out of his trance. He threw himself back and slid under a nearby table, then flipped a bench to cover his body, curled himself into a ball, and held his breath. Hundreds of arrows rained through the open windows. The messenger shrieked once as multiple missiles pierced his body. He fell over face first, leaning into a cluster of arrows embedded in the table. A waiter who had just entered the room was instantly killed.
Then, the deafening shriek of another incoming round emerged from the distance. Feng flipped over a nearby table and dragged it closer to shield his body. The second round of arrows pounded the inn, the missiles impacting the floor, furniture, and walls all at once.
The missiles seemed to rain forever. When it finally stopped, Feng bit his lip and exhaled. Thousands of arrows blanketed the room. He could barely see the messenger anymore.
There was no time to think about what happened. Feng grabbed a stool and flung it across the floor, sweeping away the missiles and opening a path to crawl through. He listened for the shrill whistle of another round, waiting for any indication that more was coming. Everything was silent.
Then he noticed it. The arrow closest to him was short. It had been fired from a crossbow with an extra piece of metal attached to it. Feng extracted the bolt from the floor to examine the weapon. It was a simple, heavy cylinder with spiraling grooves wrapped around the bolt behind the warhead. Every arrow fired into the inn had the same attachment.
There was no time to think about this. He snapped the arrow in half, grasped the piece with the attachment, climbed to his feet, and scrambled for the stairs. He stumbled down to the second floor and stopped. The second floor resembled the third floor. A blanket of arrows covered the room. Customers and waiters throughout the room had been killed in the onslaught, pinned against their chairs or tables, their bodies completely riddled with arrows.
He felt dazed and had no clue what to make of this, but Feng gathered himself and kept moving. In a moment he was outside the inn, running out the back door to avoid the guards approaching from South Gate across the square.
This was the work of trained military, perhaps an entire archery battalion firing from outside South Gate. That meant an entire army of archers had come this close to the City of Stones, and the guards didn’t even see them. Unless these archers stood so far away that no one could spot them from the top of the wall.
Could crossbow bolts travel that far?
He had to show the attachment to his father and warn him of the impending danger. The distance these arrows could travel was unimaginable, and the army firing them could number in the thousands if not tens of thousands. The way they fired over the city walls, indiscriminate of their victims, meant an invasion was imminent.
The arrows came from the southern side of the city, which faced the Chinese empire. It could not be foreign. A Chinese army had marched through his father’s province without detection.
Feng picked up pace, beads of sweat dripping from his brow, still clutching the heavy arrow appendage. He maintained his speed for a long time until suddenly it dawned on him that he was alone on the street.
Feng halted to a complete standstill and glanced behind himself, peered into a side street, and turned again. The shops on both sides of the street were closed; the food and snack vendors had abandoned their roadside stands. The residents of the city stared from their half-opened windows as if waiting for something to happen. A young girl made eye contact.
“Go home,” she said. “The general’s son was assassinated. There’s martial law in the city.”
The girl’s mother rushed to the window and drew her daughter back inside. She pointed to Feng and waved for him to go.
A patrol of twenty foot soldiers appeared at the end of the road. “Hold it! Don’t move!” They shuffled toward him, the heavy plate armor on each man clinking against the weapons in their hands.
Feng waited for them to come. “What’s happening here?” he asked as they drew closer.
“Martial law has been declared,” one said. “Nonresidents are to leave or face arrest.” They didn’t recognize him in peasant clothing.
“I heard the general’s son was assassinated,” Feng said. “Is that true?”
“You ask too many questions. Show me your identification!”
As Feng reached into his pocket, he realized this must be a ruse designed by his father to ensure his escape. If he revealed he was the general’s son, still alive, he would destroy his father’s plan. There was no way home now.
“I left mine at home. I’ll evacuate now.”
Feng headed back toward South Gate. By then the guards assigned to escort him to the City of Eternal Peace would have returned to the City of Stones and reported Feng’s escape. His father must have learned of this and taken quick measures to address it.
Merchants and peasants who didn’t live in the city were already bottlenecked in front of South Gate. They shuffled out of the city under military supervision.
Feng lowered his head and mixed himself into the crowd. He wasn’t tall, and his lanky body easily disappeared within a large mass of people. His horse as well as the sword hidden in the bushes should still be where he left them. He would retrieve them first.
The guards positioned in front of South Gate were scanning for warriors with weapons and barely noticed the departing peasants. Feng was completely surrounded by other people, and he passed through the gates alongside everyone else. The well paved thoroughfare, once outside the city, became wider and more uneven. These stone roads extended into Major Pass, then seemed to stretch forever into the heart of the Chinese empire.
The people were moving faster beyond South Gate, and before the outskirts of the first forest, multiple forks appeared on the road, allowing the travelers to scatter into many different directions. Feng veered to the edge of the path, still walking among the thinning mass of peasants. When he approached a denser part of the forest, he slipped behind a tree, then another, and disappeared.
The trees were tall, and despite the dry season, the heavy foliage remained thick and strong. Feng weaved and dodged the low-hanging branches blocking his every step, trying to move quietly, turning often to see if anyone followed him or noticed him.
He approached the clearing where he tied his horse that morning, a small area with a rocky surface and very little vegetation. His stallion stood quietly next to a tree, and another figure waited next to it.
“Du!” Feng called.
The sight of his friend brought tears to Feng’s eyes. Du was a tall, slender man with thin lips and a large nose. He was one of Feng’s four childhood friends. They grew up together, always traveled together, and always drank together. Now, only he was left.
Du was leaning against the saddle, his face buried in the horse’s mane, but the sound of Feng’s call jolted him from his thoughts. He pushed away the horse and ran to Feng as soon as he saw him. A few steps away he stopped in his tracks. He shifted from side to side and locked his fingers together. He tried to say some
thing, but no words came out. He lifted his heel to take another step but somehow could not bring himself to move.
Feng also held back, aware of what must be crossing his friend’s mind.
They’re dead. They died saving me.
Tears trickled down Du’s face. “I heard . . .”
Feng nodded.
“How? Who could have . . .” His voice broke.
Feng inched toward him.
Du’s eyes bulged. “Bandits? Some bandits did this?”
Feng shook his head. “Maybe it’s not so simple.”
Du lowered his face into his hands, and for a long time he could not speak, holding back his sobs and trembling behind closed fingers.
“How did you find me here?” Feng asked.
“Colonel Shu told me to wait here.”
“My Uncle Shu?”
“And Lady Mu. What’s happening, Feng?”
“My sister’s been abducted, Du. Someone with enough power to take on a Tiger General has her, and they tried to capture me too. They want some treasure from my father.”
“Some treasure?”
“We don’t have time to talk about it right now,” Feng said. “I have to find my sister. Do you have a horse?”
“Outside the forest.”
“Let’s go,” Feng said. “I know where she is. I’ll explain everything to you.”
“Shouldn’t the general be handling this?”
“He is. But we can move faster, and dressed as civilians, we have stealth. Come.”
“Wait!” It was a woman’s voice, one more familiar to Feng than any voice in the world.
“Mother!”
A woman in her late thirties stepped into the clearing. She carried a two-handed sword, and her head was wrapped in a silk scarf. She was known to others as Lady Mu. Behind her was Uncle Shu. Feng bowed to his mother and then glanced once at his uncle with a scowl.
“Your father wanted to keep you safe,” his uncle said in a low voice.
“You drugged me.”
“He didn’t think you would cooperate.”
Feng turned back to his mother. “What’s happening here?”
“Your father’s going to Mongolia, Feng.”
Feng froze. “Mongolia? Was he ordered to go after the Silencer?”
“Listen to me, Feng,” his mother began.
“The emperor is doing this, isn’t he?” Feng asked. “We face the Uighur nations! Mongolia is far away. Why isn’t the emperor sending the Tiger Generals who face the Mongol border?”
“Quiet!” she ordered. “Who are you to question your father’s actions?”
“The messengers who came this morning. They were really from the emperor, weren’t they?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Mother, there are thousands of archers outside the city, and they can shoot from an impossible distance. I need to talk to my father.”
“You can’t!” his mother said, raising her voice. “He wants you out of this city. He’s bringing his men into Mongolia tonight.”
“Tonight! That’s not enough time to prepare—”
“He knows what he’s doing!”
“Why go after the Silencer? The Silencer has never been defeated! He’s the most dangerous barbarian in the world, but he’s never attacked us. Why pick a fight with him?”
“Quiet!” she shouted again. “You listen to me very carefully. If you want to help your father, you’re going to do exactly as I say.”
Feng fought to remain calm. Everyone knew. The Silencer forced his enemies to watch as their wives and daughters were raped so they could learn a little humiliation before he chopped them to pieces and fed them to his dogs. Yet, the undefeated Mongol king had never attacked China. “Why confront the Silencer? Why?”
She reached into her robe and produced a letter sealed with melted wax, stamped with the emblem of the Tiger General.
“Take this letter and get out of here. Go to the capital and look for the prime minister. Tell him you have an urgent message from General Mu, but don’t say you’re his son.”
“It’s the emperor, isn’t it? He ordered father to invade Mongolia.”
“Feng, make sure you personally hand the letter to the prime minister. This is the only way to save your father.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s happening to my sister?”
Lady Mu’s stern expression faded, a wave of worry and fear overwhelming her. “It’s dangerous out there, Feng. Stay hidden, don’t talk to anyone, and don’t do anything to make yourself stand out. You have to put this letter into the hands of the prime minister. Let him take it to the emperor.”
Feng nodded.
She handed him a heavy pouch full of gold coins. “Go now.”
“I’ll go with him, Lady Mu,” Du said from behind. “I’ll take good care of him.”
She managed a smile, acknowledging Du’s offer, and motioned for Uncle Shu to leave.
“Wait,” Feng said. “I need to talk to Uncle Shu. I need a favor.”
“Anything you need.”
“I need you to spread some rumors for me. Release the word that the Venom Sect has the Red Crest.”
“Venom Sect? The poison users? Where are they hiding?”
“They’re here.”
Du moved closer and whispered, “I heard this morning the Venom Sect was spotted in the City of Stones.”
“Why is that important?” Uncle Shu asked. “They’re only a snake-worshipping cult.”
“Do it for me, uncle. As soon as you can.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” Feng turned back to Lady Mu.
“Leave now,” she said, her voice harsh. “You’re running out of time.”
“What about my sister?” His face was trembling, his eyes red, his fingers stiff.
“Your father is taking care of it,” Lady Mu said. “Don’t worry about her.”
“Don’t worry about her?” Feng asked. “I only have one sister. Why is father invading Mongolia while his daughter’s life is in danger? How could he save her if he’s in trouble himself?”
“Stop asking so many questions!” she shouted. “You have to leave right now. Your father is in trouble, and this letter can save him. Do you understand?”
“Where are you going, mother? You can’t stay here. The rapid-fire archers are nearby. You’re not going to Mongolia with the rest of the army, so where are you going?”
Lady Mu tensed and motioned for him to leave. “You’re out of time.”
A large tear welling against the corner of his eye rolled down his cheek. He made no effort to brush it away, and with clenched jaws he turned and headed for his horse.
Du bowed once to Lady Mu and followed.
Chapter 3
The forest was dense, but they moved through the trees as if unpaved roads existed between them. Feng said very little to his friend, focusing instead on tearing across the uneven forest floor and covering as much ground as he could right away. It wasn’t long before they found Du’s horse tied to a slender tree.
“We need to move,” Feng said.
“We can take smaller roads along the west, and we’ll reach the capital in six days,” Du said, stopping to catch his breath.
“We’re not going to the capital. We’re going after my sister.”
Du paused. “What about the letter to the prime minister?”
“I can’t leave until she’s safe.”
Du untied his horse with a frown. “Do you really know where she is?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll follow you, then.”
Feng pulled his horse through the forest, and soon they were on a main road headed east. They would pass the peripheral villages south of the City of Stones, and then they would enter a deep, barren area traveled by few. Feng knew there was time, and the horses were rested. The sun would not set for many more hours.
Du pulled up beside him. “Tell me how they died.”
“The
y . . .” Feng exhaled hard and choked on his words. “I can’t.” He felt the road tilting in front of him, and he leaned against the horse’s mane to steady himself. There was no time to mourn his friends. “Those long-distance archers,” he began, “they can’t be foreign, right?”
Du shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“How can everything be happening on the same day my sister was captured?” Feng asked, his voice barely loud enough for his friend to hear. “Do you think everything is related? The assault on the inn couldn’t have been meant for me—how would they know where I was? They meant to kill the messenger.”
Du had been a great listener since childhood, never expressing his opinions but following Feng around wherever he went. He was a special lieutenant to the pike unit, mostly because of his administrative abilities. He was mediocre in martial arts, and in the city he was simply known as Feng’s friend.
Feng turned, and a bitter smile grazed the corner of his lips. “Just listen, then.” They breezed through the empty road. “The bolts were modified,” he said, loud enough for his friend to hear. “The barbarians can barely build wheelbarrows. They certainly can’t make arrows fly that far. Someone in the Chinese empire has done this. But the emperor must know about it already—how could he not? It can only mean these are imperial archers. Maybe they’re Zhuge Nu?”
A chill crept up his back. Zhuge Nu archers were an elite regiment capable of rapid-fire arrows, the very best in the empire. But they were used to repel foreign invasion and never to attack civilians. They could not possibly be the same archers who devastated a civilian inn.
“Perhaps the emperor is doing this,” Feng whispered, his voice shaking. “Perhaps the emperor wants to be rid of his Tiger Generals. General Lo was already sent to his death. He was ordered to attack the Silencer. The Silencer’s reputation speaks for itself. Now, my father has been sent to Mongolia, perhaps for the same mission: suicide. My sister was captured, but these archers knew where the messenger was and killed him. Maybe the emperor’s involved after all.”
The road narrowed. Du was slowing and falling behind. Feng continued to speak as if Du could hear. “The emperor can execute anyone he wants. Why bother doing all this? Can the Zhuge Nu be mobilized without the emperor knowing?”