The Orchid Farmer's Sacrifice

by Fred Yu

  Ming grabbed him by the collar and drew him close. “Listen to me, Mu Feng. The Chinese emperor is trying to eliminate all four Tiger Generals. He trusts the Judge, and he’s trying to consolidate the four armies under one man. Go home. Get your family and run. They need you.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “We hear things,” Ming said, relaxing her grip on his collar. “The messengers who answer to the Judge carry the imperial edict. Even we know that a yellow brocade box embroidered with dragons and guarded by knights is a message from the emperor. And they answer to the Judge.”

  “So, my father did receive an edict from the emperor. The second messenger yesterday.”

  “Go, Feng!” she shouted. “This is not your war.”

  “Yes, it is!”

  “And why is any of this your business?”

  “Because you’re stuck up here!”

  Ming froze, and for a second she blushed. She then turned her face to look at Iron Spider.

  “Yes, it is my war,” Feng repeated. “I hesitated, and I lost my sister. I won’t lose you for the same reason.”

  “It’s not up to you,” Ming said. “It’s not up to you who lives or dies in battle.”

  Iron Spider ran up the hill and stood next to them. “Why are you barking like a neutered dog at a time like this?”

  “Listen!” Feng said, holding up a hand to stop Ming from talking. “You only have seven ropes, and only three people can climb at once. You have four hundred people. If Zeng Xi is not delayed for at least another hour, half your people will die.”

  “I’m listening,” Iron Spider said.

  Ming tried to speak, but Feng quickly interjected. “I can hold them. I need a small team of good poison users—maybe ten people. I will hold Zeng Xi for one more hour.”

  “Only ten?” Iron Spider asked, turning to glance at Ming.

  “Ten good men. They have to answer to me.”

  Again Iron Spider looked at Ming. Ming sighed, a large teardrop rolling down her cheek. “Why die here, Feng?”

  “It’s not up to me who lives or dies in battle. It’s not up to you either.”

  Ming stared into the distance. “Give Commander Mu nine of our best.” She turned to Iron Spider. “I need you to coordinate the defense down there. I will be the tenth under Feng’s command.”

  “Master?”

  “That’s an order, elder.”

  “Yes, master,” Iron Spider said with a bow.

  “How many do you think are still alive in the Red Mansion?” Feng asked. “I remember a few were unconscious with heavy wounds, but I asked you not to finish them off.”

  “There should be at least two or three,” Iron Spider responded. “Some of them could have bled to death, but none should be able to walk.”

  “Find me two men who participated in the mutiny. I need them to speak to the survivors in the Red Mansion. We’ll guarantee forgiveness, and they will be allowed to descend the cliff first.”

  Iron Spider nodded and charged down the hill, pointing to her best men as she passed them and motioning for them to approach.

  Ming turned to face her people. “The entire Venom Sect takes orders from Commander Mu now. Do you understand?” Ming’s voice carried across the back of the mountain, and an instant wave of murmurs swept across the back of Mount Oleander.

  Feng sucked in his breath. “You trust me, Ming?”

  “I’m now Second Master,” she said, her voice low enough only for Feng to hear. “I’m not meant to be a leader.”

  Iron Spider returned. She stood in front of Feng and bowed.

  “What are your orders for the defense, master?” Iron Spider asked.

  “I’m not the master of a bunch of criminals. This is temporary.”

  Iron Spider bowed. “Understood. What are your orders, temporary master? Shall we burn these amateurs on sight?”

  “We’re not going to win, in case you don’t understand that by now,” Feng said, focused on the situation again. “We can only delay them. The fire is a psychological barrier, not a real weapon. It’ll force them to waste time regrouping so they can flank you from the left. They’ll have to cross that narrow area of barren rock.” He pointed to the slippery surface that could not be burned. Iron Spider nodded.

  “No more than ten men can walk across that surface in a single line. Their lines may be hundreds of layers deep but only ten in width. We’ll receive them in a slightly wider area where we can form fifteen men abreast. That’s how we outnumber them. At least until your men die of exhaustion.”

  Iron Spider nodded again.

  “That rock is slanted. We need to save enough oil to cover the surface before they cross. It’ll cause some to slip and fall off the mountain. They’ll waste time throwing sand on the rock for footing, and when we can’t hold our lines anymore, we’ll burn the oil under their feet. They’ll retreat until the fire dies. That’ll give us enough time to sever the ropes. Those who have not climbed to the valleys by then will be captured or killed.”

  The nine men Iron Spider handpicked had assembled behind her.

  “Tell me what long-range weapons you have.”

  “Two cases of bats,” Iron Spider replied, “trained to attack the enemy as soon as they’re released. That’s two hundred bats.”

  “The bats are going to be key,” Feng said. “And medium distance?”

  “We have poison darts and smoke explosives. Also about twenty bags of snakes.”

  “Snakes?”

  “About sixty of them,” Iron Spider said.

  “And short range?”

  “Mainly swords and sabers. The edges are all poisoned.”

  “How long before the poison begins to take effect?”

  “Only a few minutes.”

  Feng shook his head. “Then they’re useless. We’re not out to kill; we’re out to delay. Can you stain the swords with something that will cause the wound to sting? It doesn’t have to be lethal, but they need to feel that something is happening to them. Make them afraid.”

  “Of course,” Iron Spider said with a smile. “I know what to use.”

  “Bring the snakes up here,” Feng said. “We’ll stage our ambush above the Red Mansion.”

  Chapter 8

  It wasn’t long before the footsteps of thousands could be heard approaching the peak of Mount Oleander. Feng crouched lower, hidden behind a thicket of bushes that hovered over a narrow passageway. Tall boulders on either side of the road formed imposing walls, creating an ideal position for ambush. The path below him led to the back of the mountain and into the Red Mansion. From his vantage point he could see everything in the Red Mansion’s courtyard.

  Ming kneeled beside him, watching, waiting for the invading army to converge. The other nine poison users hid behind rock formations on the other side of the road, also positioned high above, monitoring the situation in the Red Mansion.

  One of the men was relaying hand signals from Iron Spider. He displayed one finger, then six. Only a hundred and sixty people had climbed into the valleys below.

  Feng pointed to the nine men on the other side of the road. “What are their names?”

  Ming didn’t respond. After a long time Feng inquired again. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know everyone’s names.”

  “How are you going to tell their families?”

  “They don’t have families. Once they join, the Venom Sect becomes the only family they know.”

  “Strange how most of your men are Chinese,” Feng said. “But you are a foreigner with pale skin. And your fiancé and the elders all came from the same place?”

  Ming nodded. “I was born on Mount Oleander. My parents came from the West when they were children. I heard they came here with the entire Venom Sect many years ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Our country didn’t want us. They came to start life again.” She pointed to the Red Mansion and asked, “How many did I forget to kill?”

  “Three,” F
eng said. “They’ll bleed to death by nightfall if they’re not tortured to death first. We’ve given them information for Zeng Xi to beat out of them.”

  “So, that’s why you used two men from the mutiny? So the survivors would believe everything they say?”

  Feng nodded. “Iron Spider made sure they said the right words. Afterward they descended the mountain first.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They told the truth. The mutiny failed, and you learned of the invasion ahead of time. Those who took part in the mutiny were slaughtered, and you escaped through some secret tunnels. The tunnels lead to the ravine where escape boats are waiting.”

  Ming laughed. “Escape boats by the waterfalls?”

  “Special boats,” Feng said. “When Zeng Xi tortures the three—and he’ll torture them separately—he’ll get the same story from all three. He’ll send some of his men back down the front to surround the ravine. He’ll also scatter his men to search for the tunnels.”

  “How much time will that buy us?”

  “Maybe another two hundred men could climb.”

  The banners of Zeng Xi’s army, carried by the pike men marching up the middle, crept into view. The hidden scout produced one, then seven fingers. Feng tensed with frustration. Only ten more had climbed the flimsy ropes.

  Zeng Xi’s men approached the Red Mansion. The pike men fanned out across the front of the mountain, preparing to defend against small-scale ambushes. The terrain of the mountain front made it impossible for an ambush of any magnitude, and Zeng Xi knew this. He was being more careful than he ever needed to be.

  “I like red fabric,” Ming said, her voice so low only Feng could hear her. “I weave it myself. I like to attach shiny ornaments around the waist and sleeves, and I embroider the collar with gold thread.”

  For the first time Feng noticed the intricate patterns on her collar, the thin silver ornaments around her sleeve, the heavy gold trinkets hanging from her belt.

  “I like weaving my own fabric,” she continued. “The professionals in the cities do better work, but I still enjoy doing it myself. If one day I no longer have to lead the Venom Sect, I can have a small embroidery shop. I may even employ a few people to make gold ornaments. Women look good in red and gold, don’t you think?”

  “Of course. Maybe a shop in the capital, even.”

  Zeng Xi’s men continued to surround the Red Mansion, but none entered the round doorway into the courtyard. They were waiting for their commander.

  “It’ll never happen,” she said. “Not until that dog is dead. I’ll never live a normal life.”

  Feng understood. He was glad she had given him command of the battle. They would never survive if the leader reacted with hate and anger.

  “What did Zeng Xi do to you?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, biting her lip. “It was my sister who loved him. She gave up everything. She even turned against my father so she could be with him. He promised to marry her.”

  Feng could only guess what happened next. “Why did he kill her?”

  Ming’s face was blank, her thoughts lost in the past. “To impress the imperial court. Zeng Xi was promoted to second in command, second only to a Tiger General. A reward for killing the leader of a criminal cult.”

  “So, you became leader when your sister died.”

  She nodded. “That was last year. Zeng Xi wanted to wipe out the entire Venom Sect, but the Tiger General stopped him. General Lo wanted him to focus on foreign invaders, not petty criminals.” She turned to the scout on the other side of the hill. Two fingers once. Half her men had already escaped. “That’s what we are. Petty criminals.”

  “Is that why your ancestors came here?” Feng asked. “The Venom Sect committed crimes in your homeland, and they had to run?”

  Ming shook her head. “Not true. Something bad was happening to my country—a dreadful disease, I heard. People were dying with blisters on their bodies, and they thought it was our poison that was spreading. So, they came after us. I heard most of the Venom Sect were killed.”

  Feng sighed, unsure how to respond.

  “Maybe I will see my homeland one day,” Ming whispered. “I heard we came from old civilizations with enormous walled cities, and we lived near an ocean with fresh water. One day I will go back across the Silk Road and look for this place.”

  “Maybe I can go with you,” Feng said. “If you want.”

  A tall man in shiny armor ascended the steps toward the Red Mansion. He wore a gold helmet with a light red cape flowing behind him and a heavy sword dangling at his side. The soldiers parted, clearing the path.

  “Zeng Xi,” Feng said, his quiet, whispering voice louder than ever.

  Ming’s eyes flashed fire. Her arm, leaning against his, suddenly tensed.

  Feng took her hand. “We can’t kill him today. Focus on saving your people.”

  Zeng Xi stepped through the circular doorway and into the courtyard and ordered the three survivors to be dragged to him. A chair was placed behind him, and he sat down, leaning forward and hovering over the two men.

  Feng could not hear what Zeng Xi was saying, but he didn’t need to. There were only so many questions he could ask.

  “What did you dream of doing with your life?” Ming asked in a whisper.

  “I-I don’t know,” Feng stammered. “I always thought my life would be in the military. My father has groomed me to become a general, so I think that is what I will be. Maybe a Tiger General one day.”

  “But do you want a family and a normal life one day? Away from all this violence and killing?”

  Feng sighed. “If the general runs from violence, the people will have to face a lot more violence.”

  Both were quiet. Feng rubbed his two fingers together and realized his skin was parched and coarse. Strange, he thought, how the Immortal Falls can still be flowing, and yet the air seems dry and lifeless. Perhaps the gods were watching, permitting him to use fire. Perhaps there would be a chance to escape after all.

  The scout signaled that twenty more had descended; finally, over half the Venom Sect had escaped. Feng felt a sense of joy, almost pleased with himself, although the survival of the criminal cult never meant Ming would survive.

  Feng turned back to the Red Mansion below and noticed from body language alone that Zeng Xi was unimpressed with the answers he received. He motioned for his men to drag two of them away. The soldiers pulled them across the courtyard and through the round entrance. They left behind a long streak of fresh blood on the tiles. Zeng Xi leaned closer to the remaining survivor and spoke a few words. The man shook his head. Zeng Xi sat back and laughed.

  Two soldiers lifted the squirming prisoner to his knees. They tore off his clothes, strapped thick rope around his wrists, and dragged him to a tree nearby. They threw the rope over a sturdy branch and lifted the prisoner to his feet. He was pulled until he dangled in the air.

  One of Zeng Xi’s men picked up a large rock the size of his fist and hurled it into the dangling man’s knee. He screamed so loud even Feng heard before twisting and flailing in midair, spitting at the soldier and attempting to kick with his good leg. Zeng Xi walked a little closer and asked a question. After a moment he shook his head and motioned for his soldier to continue.

  Another rock was flung into the other knee. Zeng Xi threw his head back to laugh.

  The Venom Sect scout lifted two, then five fingers. Two hundred and fifty had escaped while Zeng Xi took his time torturing the prisoner.

  Another Venom Sect survivor was hauled back through the round entrance and into the courtyard. Feng held his breath. Zeng Xi would eventually figure out the ruse. He could not possibly resist searching for the secret tunnels, even if it meant scattering his men. If three hundred and fifty escaped, Feng hoped he could convince Ming to leave.

  The second man was stripped, and thick rope was tied around his ankles. He shouted something, but Zeng Xi ignored him, so he shouted again. Another soldier threw his rope
over a different tree branch and pulled him upside down into the air. Blood dripped from his mouth and belly, seeping from the wounds Ming had inflicted earlier. This one wouldn’t last long.

  One soldier picked up a rock and hurled it into his left knee. The prisoner screamed, twitched once, and dropped both arms. The soldier picked up another rock, ready to throw, when Zeng Xi held up a hand. He moved closer to the prisoner and whispered something into his ear, then placed his own ear closer to the man’s bloody lips.

  A moment later Zeng Xi spun around and barked his orders. Feng glanced at the scout behind him and noted that two hundred and sixty had descended.

  A small group was sent back down the front of Oleander while the remaining soldiers shuffled into smaller units. Zeng Xi flicked his hand as if shooing a fly, and the men mobilized. The pike men poked the dried bushes outside the Red Mansion, fanning out and expanding their circumference. A large unit of saber men scattered throughout the Red Mansion, moving aside every piece of furniture and testing every wall while remaining saber-wielders flocked to other buildings in search of the secret tunnels.

  Feng was amazed. Zeng Xi had sent his men completely out of formation, scattered and defenseless against attacks from overhead or even from behind. Perhaps Zeng Xi was so confident in overwhelming his opponent that he could be careless with his men.

  The third and final survivor from the mutiny was hauled in. He, too, was barely alive. They threw him onto the ground and pulled his head back to face the nude prisoner dangling upside down. A soldier drew a sword and waved it a couple of times, spun around, and slashed the upper torso of the dangling prisoner. There were choked screams, and blood dripped in earnest. The soldier slashed again and again, never deep but each stroke drawing cries of agony and torment.

  The prisoner kneeling on the ground lowered his head to weep. A soldier grabbed his hair and jerked his head back, forcing him to watch.

  Feng turned away to wait for the scout’s hand signals. Two hundred and ninety had climbed.

  “He said something,” Ming whispered.

  Zeng Xi bent over the prisoner on the ground, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him to his feet. The prisoner spewed some vile words. Zeng Xi threw him on the ground with a roar and stomped him on the face. A splatter of blood shot across the floor tiles. The prisoner lay lifeless. Zeng Xi shouted something, and his men began to regroup.