Ten Thousand Thorns_A Fairy Tale Retold

by Suzannah Rowntree

  Ten Thousand Thorns

  Suzannah Rowntree

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  2nd edition copyright © 2018 Suzannah Rowntree

  Cover design by rebecacovers

  Line editing by Lucinda Holdsworth

  www.vintagenovels.com

  All rights are reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be produced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses provided by copyright law.

  My warmest thanks to Steven Wei for helping me get the details right.

  Needless to say, any mistakes that remain are completely my fault.

  1.

  In Hubei, there was a bamboo forest.

  In the bamboo forest was a tavern.

  In the tavern was a traveller who did not show his face.

  He sat in the darkest corner of the room with his head bent, so that as she poured his tea, the taverner’s daughter was only able to catch a glimpse of a chin beneath his hood. On the table before him lay a long box of dark, polished teak-wood, carved with tigers.

  “Thank you,” he said, reaching forward to pick up the bamboo cup. The taverner’s daughter straightened, clasping the teapot to her chest.

  “Are you travelling far, Elder?”

  He sipped his tea and replaced it on the table before replying.

  “Wudang Mountain.”

  Although the traveller spoke softly in the crowded tavern, his words caused a hush. At a table nearby, an unremarkable little man with streaks of grey in his hair and squinted eyes that had almost vanished into the broad planes of his face turned almost imperceptibly and tried to see the face under the hood. The taverner’s daughter adopted a more respectful tone at once.

  “If Elder is headed to Wudang, he should be careful! The Emperor has beheaded Duke Roaring Tiger in Nanjing; his head has been sent around the eight directions. Now the Mount Jing rebels have no leader, and they are like swarming hornets or wounded bears. If Elder travels by the south road, he may find himself entangled. Take the north road to Wudang instead.”

  The traveller thanked her with a nod. At the next table, the little man looked at the teapot and cleared his throat, hoping for the girl’s attention.

  But she didn’t hear him.

  Outside the tavern, a voice screamed. The sound of racing footsteps came closer. Closer.

  And then—

  Poom.

  The body of a man burst through the wall of the tavern in a shower of flying splinters. The hooded traveller snatched up the wooden box and jumped to his feet as the body landed on the table before him with a crash. The table collapsed. Inside the tavern, chaos reigned. As the taverner’s daughter screamed, some felt for weapons, while others scrambled away in fear.

  Lit up by the glare of the evening sun, the traveller stood above the wreck of his table, his arm stretched out, the wooden box trembling in his hand. For a brief moment, everyone in the tavern saw his face—a young face, a noble face, with high cheekbones and watchful eyes.

  A shadow hid him again.

  A black silhouette stepped through the large jagged hole in the tavern’s wall. Once inside the newcomer straightened, revealing beneath a woven reed hat the features of a young maiden as fair and as delicate as a piece of white jade. The traveller blinked in disbelief. Surely, this could not be the one who had blasted such an immense hole in the wall? He was amazed to hear the gasps of terror from those around him.

  “It’s Tie Niang”, someone cried, “the Iron Maiden!”

  Iron Maiden smiled gently, kicked aside a loose plank and settled herself at an empty table.

  “Is that tea?” she asked the taverner’s daughter in a voice as small and gentle as she herself appeared.

  The girl crept forward with her teapot, and filled a cup for Iron Maiden. Her hands shook, and a few drops from the spout spattered the table. No one moved or spoke as Iron Maiden shook back her ragged sleeve and lifted her cup. After one sip she grimaced and tossed the contents out. “Ugh! Bitter as a winter’s night. Do you call that tea?”

  The taverner’s daughter let out a terrified sob.

  “Never mind, I’ll make my own.” Iron Maiden fished inside her bag and brought out a tiny tea caddy delicately painted with white cranes. At the sight of it, the silence within the tavern grew yet more profound. Iron Maiden was dressed like a peasant, but perhaps she was of higher status than she appeared.

  Or perhaps she had fought someone important and stolen their tea.

  “I’ll bring hot water, miss!”

  The taverner’s daughter fled.

  Amidst the wreckage of the broken table, there came a soft groan from the man who had entered by the wall, a venerable old peasant with white hair and long grey robes. Now, he tried to rise from his undignified position. Quickly the traveller put his foot on the old man’s chest, pushing him back down to the floor and shaking his head, but it was already too late. The movement had attracted Iron Maiden’s attention. With a sigh, she tucked the tea back into her bag, then stood up and bowed to everyone inside the tavern, her right fist held cupped in her left hand.

  “Tomorrow at dawn, I will be waiting outside the Temple of Tranquil Longevity to exchange stances with your martial artists!”

  Despite the traveller’s warning, the old man rose shakily to his feet and tottered toward the opening in the broken wall. At once Iron Maiden pounced on him and sealed an acupoint on his neck. The old man slumped, unconscious.

  “I am taking this man with me,” she announced. “If you want him back, send your greatest martial artists to me without fail at dawn tomorrow!”

  With that, she grabbed the old man by the scruff of his neck and flitted through the jagged hole in the wall. Despite the burden of her captive, she moved as lightly as a dandelion seed blowing on the wind. For a moment she could be glimpsed flying through the village like a swooping crane or a soaring dragon, until she reached the bamboo forest and vanished into its depths.

  The traveller took a deep breath. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that such a profound lightness skill was possible.

  As soon as the Iron Maiden had departed, the tavern filled with cries of outrage.

  “This Iron Maiden must be stopped,” someone wailed. “First she terrorises Peaceful Settlement, Prosperous Settlement, and Fortunate Settlement—and now she has kidnapped our own village chief! Is there no limit to her arrogance?”

  “Why would she pick on a harmless old man?”

  “He was only putting up the imperial edict.”

  A young man in the blue clothes of a ninth-rank official came in by the door. He held a torn, dirty piece of woodblock-printed paper close to his eyes in the failing light.

  “We just received these today. ‘By order of the Vastly Martial Emperor. Wanted for rebellion and treason, the bandit Clouded Sky, associate and aide to the disgraced Roaring Tiger. Last seen in Nanjing; thought to be travelling to Wudang Mountain. For information leading to Clouded Sky’s arrest, two thousand gold taels.’

  The taverner’s daughter peeked out from her hiding-place in the kitchen, still clasping her pot of bitter tea. She squeaked, “The Iron Maiden is one of the Roa
ring Tiger rebels?”

  “No! She’s just a troublemaker trying to prove herself supreme in the martial arts world!”

  “My poor uncle,” the taverner’s wife began to sob.

  “There must be someone who can face the Iron Maiden.” The official handed the edict to the taverner’s daughter and turned to a man sitting at a nearby table. “You, Old White Rabbit?”

  “Me? No! She has already defeated a dozen martial artists stronger than me!”

  “Send for Black Jade Madame!”

  “Haven’t you heard? Black Jade Madame was defeated by Iron Maiden last month! She may not have recovered from her injuries yet!”

  “I heard that Snow Wind was seen in Hubei within the last week.”

  “Snow Wind? With the Venomous Knives? We can’t ask him for help,” said Old White Rabbit. “His martial arts are profound, but unorthodox! He could deal with Iron Maiden, but what if he turned on us after?”

  “Besides, he has a commission from the Emperor now.” The official gestured toward the edict. “He’s busy hunting Clouded Sky.”

  A desolate silence fell. The little man with the unremarkable face stole another glance at the hooded traveller. He had sunk back onto his seat, holding the wooden box across his knees, his head bent as though his mind was far away.

  The taverner’s daughter looked up from the imperial edict.

  “Everyone knows that Wudang Sect is unparalleled in the martial arts community.” She crossed the room and dropped the edict on the floor at the traveller’s feet. Printed upon it was a young, noble face with high cheekbones and watchful eyes. Softly, she said: “Do you, Elder, know anyone who will fight Iron Maiden for us?”

  The traveller closed his eyes, knowing that all eyes in the tavern were on him. A murmur ran around the room as first one, then another recognised him as the fugitive whose face was printed on the edict. He had come so far. He was so close to home. If he turned aside now, what would happen to his people? What would happen to Hubei? For the sake of the greater good, he ought to refuse. But he was a martial artist. And every martial artist knew that it was his personal duty to do justice, to help the needy, and to rely with humility upon Heaven.

  The young girl’s lips tightened in determination.

  “If you help us, you can rely on us not to turn you in, Elder.”

  But only if he helped them. He could read the threat in not only her eyes, but also in those of all others inside the tavern. Now that they had seen his face and heard of the reward, there was only one way to make sure he returned to Wudang in safety.

  The traveller picked up the imperial edict and stood.

  “Yes,” he said. “I am Wudang disciple Clouded Sky, third-in-command to Duke Roaring Tiger. If you will not betray me to the Emperor, then I will fight Iron Maiden and free your chief.”

  The little man with the unremarkable face slipped out of the tavern into the dusk. For a short time he stood quietly in the street listening to the sounds of the village as it settled in for the night. He saw no reason to fear danger. No dark shapes flitted over the grey rooftops; no glint of steel shone in the shadows. Abruptly, he turned east.

  Not far from the village he left the road and threaded his way through the forest. It was even darker under the canopy, and he saw the glow of the campfire long before he reached it.

  He could just make out voices when someone challenged him from the shadows.

  “Who goes there?”

  “My name is Second Brother. I’ve come to speak to the Imperial Sword.”

  It seemed that this was the wrong answer. The guard in the shadows drew his sword and leaped. A muffled blow connected, then another.

  Second Brother took the unconscious guard by the scruff of his neck and dragged him noisily through the fallen leaves, down toward the hollow beyond. About thirty men, all wearing the red and black livery of the Vastly Martial Emperor, jumped to their feet with shouts of alarm when they saw Second Brother and his prisoner.

  “I’ve come to speak to the Imperial Sword,” Second Brother repeated, aiming a fist at his prisoner’s death acupoint. The guards froze, their sabres half unsheathed.

  “Your excellency,” one of them whispered.

  Next to the fire sat a man wearing the purple silk that only officials of the highest rank were permitted to wear. Across his knees lay a sword with a silken yellow tassel. An imperial sword. The personal authorisation of the Emperor himself. His face was covered by a black muffler that left only his eyes visible—and even those were closed in meditation.

  “Your excellency,” the guard hissed more urgently.

  The Imperial Sword spoke without opening his eyes. “Falling leaves may disturb the surface, but deep down, do the fish waken?”

  A faint smile creased Second Brother’s eyes.

  “They do if they’re hungry.”

  The Imperial Sword opened his eyes.

  “Who are you?”

  “Merely a peasant who wants to help, your excellency.”

  The Imperial Sword looked thoughtfully at the guard lying motionless among the tawny-coloured leaves at Second Brother’s feet.

  “A martial artist of your stature need not call himself a mere peasant. What have you come to offer?”

  “Information, your excellency. Tomorrow morning at dawn, if you go to the Temple of Tranquil Longevity, you’ll find the one you’re looking for.”

  “I expect you want something in return for this.”

  Second Brother shook out the imperial edict, revealing the printed face of Clouded Sky.

  “Two thousand taels is a lot of money. Even part of such a sum would be a fortune to someone like me.”

  The Imperial Sword considered him for a long moment.

  “Perhaps we can come to an agreement,” he said at last.

  The Temple of Tranquil Longevity stood halfway up a mountain, shrouded by mists and conifers. Not long ago, ten Taoist priests lived here. But when the Vastly Martial Emperor began to subdue Hubei Province, he forced the priests to leave their temple and travel in ten different directions so that they could no longer discuss seditious ideas together. His soldiers had taken the books, stripped the gold and silver, and left the temple to decay, its carvings chipped and the red tiles of its double roof clouding over with lichen.

  Clouded Sky reached the high ledge of the mountain temple and waited for a little while to catch his breath. It had been a long climb, but he could not afford to waste his reserves of qi energy by using his Cloud-Ascending Ladder lightness skill to flit up the mountain.

  He loosened his black sword in its sheath and made sure that the carved wooden box was strapped securely to his back. There was no sign of the Iron Maiden outside the temple, but as Clouded Sky climbed the broken steps, he saw what looked like a small grey bundle lying between the carved pillars in front of the open doors. The village chief.

  Clouded Sky squinted into the shadowed interior and drew his sword.

  A voice spoke, its echoes rippling sweetly around the empty chamber. “So, they found someone to fight me! Good!”

  Clouded Sky frowned into the darkness, but still, he could see no one. Cautiously, he reached down with his left hand and held it in front of the old man’s nose. Breath warmed his fingers. The chief was still alive.

  “The Cloud Gate acupoint,” said Iron Maiden from inside the temple. “Unseal it and let him go. Now that you are here I am quite satisfied.”

  Clouded Sky jabbed the acupoint, and the chief awoke with a start.

  “Hero!” he rasped, grabbing Clouded Sky’s arm. “Be careful! It’s Miss Iron!”

  “Boo!” said the voice in the temple, and laughed.

  “I know,” said Clouded Sky. “I came to exchange stances with her!”

  He tried to stand, but the old man tightened his grip, his eyes widening. “I know you! You are Clouded Sky!”

  “Don’t speak so loud, Elder,” Clouded Sky begged, but another laugh drifted out of the temple.

  “Cloude
d Sky! Fortunate meeting, fortunate meeting. A Wudang Sect warrior reputed for skill and courage!” There was a flutter of fabric within the temple as Iron Maiden jumped down from the rafter where she had perched. She landed lightly and bowed with cupped fists. “It is a privilege to exchange stances with you, hero!”

  The chief hastily bowed before hurrying away toward the path down the mountain. Clouded Sky straightened with a grim smile, lifting his sword to point at Iron Maiden.

  “You have not fought a Wudang Sect disciple before?”

  She shrugged. “Your Wudang Sect is too arrogant. You are the first to agree to exchange stances with me.”

  “Perhaps I should not give you face by agreeing to exchange stances now.”

  “Too late for that! You are here now, and I won’t let you leave without a fight!” With a quick motion of each hand, she wrapped the ends of her sleeves around her fists.

  “As you wish.” Clouded Sky took a stance from Wudang Sect’s one hundred-stroke Mystical Sword Style. “It’s the duty of every righteous warrior to punish injustice!”

  Iron Maiden leaped into the air. Her lightness skill was incredible: she soared through the shadows of the temple like a meteor, her feet lashing out at him with a speed and power he was unprepared to face. Clouded Sky lifted his sword, blocking her kicks, but the impact blasted him backward.

  Poom!

  He flew through the air, staggering backwards as he landed on the grassy clearing in front of the temple.

  Iron Maiden instantly leaped to attack again, this time with her fists. Clouded Sky knew better now than to block her strokes. Instead he gave way, dodging aside and aiming his blade at her Soul Gate acupoint, using the stance Ambush From Ten Directions. The blade flickered with impossible speed, but Iron Maiden blocked it with a simple palm strike.

  Boom!

  Once more the force of the two strokes meeting each other threw them apart, propelling them to opposite sides of the clearing.

  “Your Wudang Sword Skill is impressive!” Iron Maiden called from the shadows of the trees opposite. “I’ve rarely seen a blade move so fast!”