Light in the Darkness

by Patrick Laplante

  With these words, the doctor put his dish down and closed himself up in his office once more.

  Cha Ming went out for a walk later that afternoon and followed Li Yin’s advice. As he walked, he saw a man through a window. He was sitting at a bar and drinking away his sorrows. Unfortunately, Cha Ming already knew what this would do to a man. He had sworn never to drink, and he wasn’t about to start such a terrible habit now.

  He continued walking until he reached the edge of the woods, where he saw a group of six children playing. They were playing a game called Swords, something he was very familiar with. Each child would take a long branch, and they would attack each other just like they would with swords. Cuts and bruises were inevitable.

  The exchange between these children made him smile. Kids were a loveable bunch—quick to anger but quick to please. The sight made him mourn his lack of a childhood. Yet he didn’t look away. Before long, he realized that there was a smile on his previously bitter face.

  Good doctor, he thought. He watched them for an hour. Only in his dreams could he have such a childhood.

  Chapter 3: Bloody Mary

  Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.

  The sounds of hooves and turning chariot wheels broke the peaceful silence in the forest. It wasn’t an absolute silence. Rather, gentle chirping, cawing, and slithering sounds could be heard if one was attentive, as could the rustling leaves and blowing wind. A convoy was traveling through these woods on a soft clay road. It consisted of three wagons and six guards on horseback. Each wagon had one driver and two cloaked figures riding at the front. The front wagon was led by a man with long silver hair, who was also the leader of the convoy.

  “So you see, Miss Lan, that is how I established my empire,” the man said. “It was difficult, of course, but thirty years of hard work have enabled me to retire in luxury and leave the family with my eldest.”

  “Fascinating,” she said dispassionately. She wished she didn’t need to talk to the old man, but unfortunately, it was part of the job description. Not every mercenary mission was a harrowing adventure. Most were like this one—uneventful. It was the intimidation of having a mercenary in the first place that brought the profession value. Their ability to defend the convoy if things went south was a form of insurance.

  Where’s a good fight when you need one? she thought.

  She heard a twanging bow, and an arrow lodged itself directly between the lead driver’s legs, pinning his clothes to the carriage.

  Ask for the Devil, and he shall appear.

  The convoy didn’t react as expected to the sudden act of aggression.

  “Ah, I was wondering when you would come,” the convoy leader said, unperturbed.

  The nearby bushes rustled, and six young men holding bows with nocked arrows walked onto the clay road.

  “You know the drill, old man,” one of them said. “Just put fifty spirit stones in a bag and toss it over. We don’t want to hurt anyone, but everyone who crosses the bridge must pay the toll.”

  The older man nodded. He took out a small sack, which had evidently been prepared for this event, and tossed it over. “Off you go, boys. Go enjoy yourselves.”

  The young men walked off cheerfully. After they had gone a fair distance, the older man urged the horses forward. Then, everyone in the caravan heard a bloodcurdling scream.

  “Have mercy!” a young man shouted when he saw his brother’s arm fly off.

  Gong Lan walked toward him. She had pulled back the hood of her cloak, and a spray of blood drenched her face. The young man paled as he tried to escape.

  The other four reacted quickly and shot Gong Lan with an arrow apiece. She quickly dodged two of them and cut the other two in midair with her sabers. She then charged forward like a bloody whirlwind and rapidly decapitated two of them. The others dropped their bows and attempted to run. In response, she unleashed two beams of bloody blade qi that felled them from behind. There was no remorse or anxiety on her face after killing the six men, only excitement.

  “Why did you have to kill them like that?” an angry voice said. It was the old man, the caravan leader. He was livid, which Gong Lan found terribly ironic given that he’d just been robbed.

  She frowned before replying. “I’ve been charged with protecting your convoy. They robbed you, so I retrieved your possessions,” she explained before tossing a bloody bag of spirit stones to the older man.

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re here to follow my orders. I did not ask you to act, and the situation was under control. These thugs have been here for years, but they’ve never charged an exorbitant amount. All their gang does is occasionally enforce a toll so they can drink and have fun. I’ve seen much worse in my days. Besides, they’ve always kept the area clean of actual brigands. Not only have you brutally killed some petty thieves, but now they’re going to come at us for revenge. You’ve killed us all!”

  Gong Lan was about to retort, but she suddenly heard the sounds of several swift footsteps. In the distance, she saw a few dozen angry cultivators charging with weapons and howling at the top of their lungs.

  “Avenge our brothers!” they yelled.

  Finally, Gong Lan thought. A good fight. She ignored the merchant and licked one of her blades before leaping into the fray.

  Not one of the brigands lived to tell the tale.

  Gong Lan sat in front of an oak desk, sulking. The ticking sounds of an exquisitely crafted timepiece exacerbated her boredom. She didn’t want to be trapped in this little room, but her brother had insisted. From the other side of the thin wall, she heard one party shouting and arguing and another party firmly trying to calm him. She heard “psycho” and “devil” mentioned more than a few times by the angry party.

  After a half hour, the conversation ended. The calm voice agreed to a full refund and a guarantee that she would never be assigned to the angry client again. The other side snorted loudly before storming out of the building.

  The door creaked softly as her brother opened it shortly after. Her face flushed red with shame as she reflected on the trouble she had just caused him. While she wanted to fight for a living, she didn’t want to ruin her brother’s company in the process.

  Maybe I should find a different way to adventure and make money, she thought.

  Her brother didn’t walk to his desk as expected. Instead, he dragged a small wooden chair over and sat down in front of her. “Little sister,” he said, “what’s come over you?”

  She didn’t reply and kept her eyes downcast. They’d had this conversation many times before.

  “Look at me when I’m talking,” he said softly.

  Her eyes darted up and looked at him. He had a calm and assuring demeanor. He didn’t look angry, only concerned.

  “Do you remember that I said to come look for me if things become overwhelming?” he asked.

  She nodded in response but did not reply.

  “If there’s something bothering you, you need to tell me,” he continued. This is the fifth customer you’ve frightened away since you came back from Fairweather. I’ve heard people describe you as psycho, crazy, insane, bloodthirsty… anything you can think of. They all say the same thing—that you’re out of your mind and you need to be locked up.

  “Be honest with me, Lan Er. Are you in control, or have you lost it? This is serious.” Her brother was usually kind and comforting. Now, he was stern and rebuking.

  This is why I don’t want to say anything, she thought. I know you’ll be disappointed and yell at me when I finally screw up. Just like Dad used to.

  The former Blood King realized that he’d raised his voice and took the time to calm down. “Gong Lan,” he said, “even I’m not immune to fits of rage. Didn’t I tell you? Back in my youth, I lost control and ended up killing several of my friends. I can never forgive myself for that. I need you to tell me when you can’t handle things anymore. I know where to get help. Just trust me, okay?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer before getting up and le
aving the room. Gong Lan continued staring bleakly at the floor.

  “You went crazy after a decade of slaughter,” she mumbled. “Compared to you, I’m just a weak failure.” She sat there moping for a half hour before finally getting up and going to the only place that could help her forget her shortcomings: the tavern.

  Somewhere in Green Leaf City, three mercenaries walked into a bar. The loud crash resulting from their collision alerted all the patrons, who shook their heads in disdain. The three mercenaries cursed loudly as they walked around the building to find the entrance. The instant the trio entered, they were greeted with glares and silence.

  “Nope. Not this one. I must have the wrong bar,” said the leader of the group, who broke into a cold sweat from the concentrated killing intent directed their way. “Come along with me now, boys. We’re going to the other bar now.”

  One of his drunken companions began speaking in protest, but the leader hurriedly shushed him and escorted the trio outside. Once they’d left, the bar patrons returned to their conversations.

  “Have you heard about the Blood Queen’s latest exploits?” a man asked his companions. They were seated at a small, elevated table. The four of them nursed large mugs of ale. They weren’t particularly inebriated. The night was young, and only those with serious drinking problems were already out for the count.

  “What did she do this time?” another man asked.

  “Well,” the original man replied, “she killed six young boys near Meadowlark Bridge. You know, the ones who hardly cause trouble. Her employer was pissed. If that wasn’t enough, the remaining thirty-four in the gang attacked in anger. She slaughtered them all without any hesitation.”

  “But those men weren’t proper thugs,” the third one said. “Heck, I don’t think they’ve killed or raped anyone. The worst thing they ever did was beat a few men to a pulp. Plus, it’s not like their toll is that high. I’ve been on that route a few dozen times and they only asked for fifty spirit stones each time. That’s ridiculously cheap.”

  “Right,” the original continued. “Otherwise, why would I have mentioned it? The Blood Queen always kills at the drop of a pin. If it wasn’t for her brother, she’d be damn-near unemployable. Over the last month, she’s killed a hundred and forty people. None of them were honest folks, to be sure, but only two or three of them deserved death.”

  The man sighed. “She should just go back to doing what she’s good at: the arena battles. Then she’d only be killing two or three people every few days instead of massacring a small thieves’ village like she did last week. The pay’s got to be better in the arena as well. Plus, I really miss—”

  The man suddenly stopped speaking as a young woman dressed in red leather walked in. She walked through the crowd and sat at the bar. Her twin sabers gave off an ominous vibe, abruptly cutting off all conversation people were having about her. This was, coincidentally, eighty percent of the conversations being held at the time.

  “One Bloody Mary,” she said. The bartender was used to this order, so he fixed one up right away. Of course, he made it just the way she liked it. He mixed in various herbs, giving it a rich metallic flavor. He didn’t pause after making the first one, which she downed instantly. It was only after giving her the fourth consecutive one that her face became flushed, and she finally slowed down.

  The mercenaries who had just been discussing her finally built up the courage to talk in whispers again.

  “I wonder if she’ll start another fight tonight?” the second mercenary said. “Does anyone want to bet? Twenty spirit stones says she will.”

  The first mercenary rubbed his brow. “You know it’s just charity if I take that bet. Give me twenty-to-one odds and you’re on.”

  The second man begrudgingly accepted. He’d be crazy not to take free money.

  The third mercenary sighed and got up from his chair. “Looks like it’s my turn again. I’ll go get Sergeant Feng. Be back in a jiffy.”

  The other two men nodded. The first week, the bar hadn’t had a clue about how to stop the Blood Queen every time a fight broke out. Then one day, Sergeant Feng came out and drank with her. She started a fight, as usual, but the results weren’t nearly as devastating.

  Ever since then, they’d come up with a schedule where different regulars would go fetch Sergeant Feng as soon as she came in. His drinks were on the house, courtesy of the incredibly nervous bar owner.

  Still, he couldn’t complain. Her usual rabble-rousing had done wonders for attracting clientele. The trick was to get her to start a fight to keep the customers happy, while somehow minimizing damage.

  Sergeant Feng fit the bill just right.

  “I heard about your latest ‘exploits,’” Feng Ming said as he hunched over the oak bar. He held a glass of baiju1, which he drank hot. It was the way noblemen drank, and while Feng Ming didn’t exactly strike others as nobility, some things just couldn’t be hidden. It was in his bones.

  Gong Lan was nursing her ninth Bloody Mary of the night. Unlike most nights, she wasn’t energetic and rowdy. Rather, she was lethargic. She laid on the bar, cradling her head with her left arm. “You’re not here to judge me, too, are you?” she said, looking like she could break into tears at any moment.

  “You can drop the act,” he said. “I know you don’t care what they think. But I think you do care what some people think. What did your brother say this time?” He’d just finished his baiju, so he hollered for another one.

  “I don’t know what it is,” Feng Ming said after taking a sip of his new drink, “but I could never get around to liking cocktails or beer. It’s like my stomach can’t tolerate anything more than the more concentrated liquor. I have no idea how you can tolerate so many of those god-awful concoctions.” He pointed to the Bloody Mary in her hands. Having had a sip before, he knew full well how that blood-flavored drink tasted. Even describing it as an acquired taste would be a bit of a stretch.

  Gong Lan sighed. “I’m always disappointing him. I always cause trouble for him, but I can’t help it. Not everyone can be as strong as him, you know. I just feel like, compared to him, I’ll never achieve anything in my life.” With that thought, she chugged the rest of her Bloody Mary and ordered another one.

  Feng Ming looked at her flushed face with amusement. “All right, that’s what you think he thinks. But what did he actually say this time?” He chugged the remainder of his baiju and ordered yet another. It seemed like since his trip to Fairweather, his resistance to alcohol had shot through the roof. He vaguely remembered someone speaking about a special constitution and resistance to poisons.

  Gong Lan sighed once more. “He talked about how he’d gone crazy before and killed a bunch of his friends. Then he had to get help.” She then looked at Feng Ming intently. “He asked if I needed help, but it’s only been a couple months. He took the same path for a decade before it was too much for him. If that’s not calling me out as weak, what is?” Her voice was now tinged in anger.

  “Calm down, calm down,” Feng Ming said. “I think he truly cares about you. Besides, not every martial art suits everyone. You used to be so kind to everyone. I’m worried about you, Gong Lan. Your brother cares about you deeply, and so do I.”

  “Oh?” she said with a coy smile. “So you care about this pretty lady, do you? How about you take up my offer this time? We’ll walk on upstairs, and I’ll give you a night you can never forget.” She bit her lips when she said this, and a surge of warmth spread down to Feng Ming’s lower abdomen.

  “Do we really need to go through this every time?” he said while rolling his eyes. She got off the bar stool and stood up beside him, putting her arm on his chest and looking up into his eyes. Her coquettish actions almost caused him to lose control.

  “Why don’t you just accept? Just this once. It’s so boring here, and I could use a little… excitement.” Her choice of words caused him to shudder uncontrollably.

  “I think I’ll pass again,” he said. “You’ll be the first t
o know if I change my mind.” He called for another drink, and the bartender came by with yet another steaming hot cup. He didn’t bat an eye when he saw Gong Lan’s behavior. He’d seen it too many times before.

  There were two main reasons why Feng Ming had always refused her advances. The first one being that her brother was a monster, and he’d rather fight five devils than the Blood King. The second and more important reason, was that he had a feeling that their definitions of “fun” and “excitement” might be vastly different. She was much stronger than him—how could he possibly resist if she decided to kick things up a notch? No, it was best to stay friends with someone like her.

  Gong Lan pouted in disappointment as she got back to her drink. Feng Ming noticed a flurry of spirit stones exchanging hands after she got back to her seat. She had clearly become the most popular betting attraction in the city. It didn’t help that Feng Ming still carried his past reputation as a popinjay. His current military exploits were a state secret, and bragging about them was prohibited.

  “You should really take your brother up on his offer,” he said seriously. “He has experience in these matters. Just give it a try. There’s no way he’d ever do anything to hurt you.”

  She sighed at these words and lay back down on the bar. Her face was extremely flushed, and her eyes fluttered as she fell asleep.

  Well, its about time I take her home, he thought.

  He quickly settled Gong Lan’s tab with the bartender and threw her over his shoulder. Now the only tricky part was how to handle her antics when she suddenly “woke up” when he laid her down in her bed. She’d undoubtedly try to pull him in, as she always did.

  The bar was quiet as Feng Ming carried Gong Lan out of the bar. The door closed, and hundreds of voices shouted out at the same time. A few people cheered loudly, while the majority groaned.