Ten Thousand Thorns_A Fairy Tale Retold

by Suzannah Rowntree

  “Now you will face judgement, Nameless Girl!”

  A groan escaped her. Clouded Sky couldn’t believe his eyes. It had happened so fast. So fast. Until now, it had always taken multiple opponents to overpower Iron Maiden. Whoever these villagers were, they must be peerless martial artists, so advanced they made even Iron Maiden look like an acolyte.

  “Heroine,” he breathed. “Who are these people?”

  Despite her grimace of pain, he thought she might be smiling.

  “These are the Ten Thousand Thorns, dage.”

  “The what?” Clouded Sky blinked. These were the Ten Thousand Thorns? Morning Light sleeps in the mountains, surrounded by ten thousand thorns.

  His skin went cold. No wonder she’d been looking for a great martial hero. And now he had failed her.

  “Heroine, you didn’t tell me they were martial artists!”

  “Why, what did you think they were?”

  “I was imagining a hedge!”

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  “A tremendous, deadly hedge!”

  “Silence!” shouted the villager who had just subdued Iron Maiden.

  Down the steps of the hall stalked a stocky, grizzled man gripping Clouded Sky’s own sword in his fist. Clouded Sky felt the killing aura even before he saw the man’s face.

  “Nameless Girl.” The man faced Iron Maiden in a calm white fury. “Traitor.”

  “Chief Valuable Ox.” She smiled hopefully at him. “I returned to warn you, Elder! The Vastly Martial Emperor has sent an Imperial Sword to find Ten Thousand Thorns Temple and seize the Golden Phoenix Sword.”

  Valuable Ox paid no attention to her words.

  “Who is this man? You know our rules. No stranger enters the valley on pain of death. No one disturbs the meditations of Princess Morning Light.” He extended the sword, pointing it directly at the kneeling girl. “No one has ever dared it and lived. Except you, Nameless Girl.”

  “The Imperial Sword—” Iron Maiden began, but Valuable Ox cut through her words.

  “This stranger will tell me all I need to know. But by the laws of this village, your life is doubly forfeit.”

  The sword flickered.

  “No!” Clouded Sky surged forward, but he was too securely held.

  Valuable Ox plunged the sword into Iron Maiden’s heart.

  “No!” Clouded Sky yelled again. Iron Maiden made a small, soft sound, and with it, blood flowed from her mouth. For a moment she stared up at the temple, her teeth reddened behind parted lips, her eyes glazing.

  With a sigh she fell back, but even as her body fell, it rippled in the air and dissolved into a vapour. A breath of wind arose, dissipating the smoke, leaving nothing but one silken strand of black hair twisting in the breeze. Even as Clouded Sky watched, it divided into two parts as if cut by an invisible knife.

  Clouded Sky reached out, and the hair drifted into his hand.

  In his numb grief he heard his own voice say, I don’t know if I’m worthy. I don’t know if I am the hero you need.

  And he wasn’t.

  But you’re the hero I have. Have courage now.

  All around him, the Thorns stood frozen in amazement. Then Valuable Ox dropped the sword as if it had bitten him. Someone wailed, “Sorcery!”

  The hands on his shoulders went slack. Clouded Sky swallowed a sob and dived forward to scoop up his black sword. There was not even a drop of blood on the blade. He didn’t understand it, but neither did the Ten Thousand Thorns. Before any of them thought to move, Clouded Sky gained his feet and rampaged toward the stunned Valuable Ox, his voice boiling and breaking in his throat.

  Valuable Ox’s eyes widened and he threw himself aside. Clouded Sky caught him with a slashing blow, but did not stay to fight. He made a desperate leap—and in just one bound, landed on the roof of the village hall. Below, the Thorns recovered their wits with shouts of outrage. The wind hissed. Clouded Sky turned. His sword formed a flashing shield, protecting him from the Thorns’ wrath even as he flung himself backward toward the overgrown path towards the abandoned temple. Morning Light was his only hope now.

  As the Thorns employed their lightness skill to come after him, Clouded Sky turned and leaped from the hall’s roof.

  He understood now. He wasn’t the hero Iron Maiden needed or deserved. She had always known that. Yet she had brought him here anyway, no matter how unworthy he was, because he was all she had.

  He’d failed her in so many ways already. He couldn’t fail her again.

  It was time to forget his unworthiness and put all his reliance in Heaven.

  Clouded Sky’s resolve fuelled his strength. In one leap he soared from the ridge-pole of the village hall to the branches of the pine-trees on the slope beyond. With only the lightest brush of his feet against the needles he shot ever higher up the face of the hill, rising like a gushing fountain or a flying lantern. The villagers fell behind him, so far that their Ten Thousand Thorns Projectiles could no longer reach him. In another moment he floated, light as thistledown, to the temple steps.

  The temple was older and more ornate than the village hall. On each side of the steps a stone lion roared its warning. A portico extended from the front of the building, with its double roof turned up at the corners and topped by golden phoenixes. Against the black paint of the facade were painted golden words, silver dragons, green ribbons and red posts. Despite the temple’s age, each colour was fresh and bright.

  Under the shadow of the portico, however, the double doors were closed and barred with ancient timber which the passing of years had almost fused with the doors behind. Clouded Sky hesitated only a moment before smashing the bar in two with one flashing blow of his sword.

  It was dim inside the temple. The windows had been boarded up to prevent anyone from peering in, so the only light came from lamps set in ranks against the far wall before the faces of the gods. The villagers must come in by a secret entrance to feed the lamps, Clouded Sky realised, but there was no sound of any movement in the shadows.

  Silhouetted against the lamplight was a small black figure.

  Conscious of the Thorns hastening up the mountain on his trail, Clouded Sky sheathed his sword and hurried forward. Closer, the silhouette proved to be a small, delicate figure clad in stiff robes of yellow silk brocade. Across her knees she gripped the sheath and hilt of a sword with a golden tassel. An intricately-worked golden phoenix crown, dripping with ornaments, partly concealed her face.

  Despite his danger, Clouded Sky could not bring himself to speak or move for a moment. It was true. Somehow, even though he’d staked his life on it, the fact that it was true still amazed him.

  But there was no time to lose. The Thorns were on his trail.

  “Princess?” It was like speaking to a doll. “Princess, of a thousand years,” he tried again, a little more respectfully, and a little louder.

  Still, nothing.

  “Princess, I’ve come from Wudang Mountain. We need you. We need the Heaven-Relying Dragon-Slaying Sword Skill. A new emperor has arisen to crush All-Under-Heaven beneath his feet. They say he has the Mandate of Heaven, and yet…” he sighed. “Princess, he does injustice and oppresses the needy. I want a better future for my people than this.”

  Was that a sound outside the door? He fell to his knees beside the still golden figure. “Princess, can you hear me?” and in sheer desperation he grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her.

  With a discordant chime the golden crown fell to the floor.

  He was afraid of what he would see. A shrivelled corpse? A wax effigy? Nothing prepared him for the reality.

  Long black hair combed smooth as silk and pinned up in an intricate series of jewelled knots. A face as delicate as jade. Lips that, even in deep meditation, had something like a smile in their corners.

  All of it a sight as familiar to him as his own sword.

  “Heroine!”

  He did not stop to think, to ask why or how. When he touched her cheeks, her skin was warm
. Alive.

  “Meimei,” he whispered, and kissed her on the lips.

  Under his hands her shoulders tensed. He pulled back and opened his eyes to meet her startled gaze. Then, in the corner of his eye, the lamplight leaped and flickered with the strength of a sudden killing aura.

  “Meimei, wait—”

  Shingggggg! The Golden Phoenix Sword flashed in the candlelight. The wooden sheath, thrown across the room, struck the wall as two wrathful eyes narrowed at him over the sharpest edge he’d ever seen.

  “Who dares!”

  Clouded Sky recoiled, throwing up pleading hands.

  “Princess-of-a-thousand-years! Forgive me! I was sent to wake you. We need your help!” He pressed his forehead against the floor, closed his eyes, and waited for the killing blow.

  It never came.

  “You woke me?” Her voice was doubtful.

  Clouded Sky glanced up. Morning Light touched her fingers to her cheek, then looked about her, her mouth opening in amazement.

  “You woke me,” she repeated. “I am home!”

  There was no time to say more. Suddenly, the lamplight danced again, twisting and writhing as if in a strong wind. The Golden Phoenix stabbed toward him. Clouded Sky flinched.

  Pingggggg! A hidden projectile skipped off the slender blade. The Golden Phoenix rang like a bell, one melodious note resounding through the temple as Morning Light rose from her seat and turned.

  Clouded Sky looked toward the door.

  The Thorns clustered on the steps of the temple blocking the doorway and the pale morning light. One young man stood paralysed in fright, his arm still extended with the Flying Thorn projectile pipe visible inside his sleeve. When Morning Light turned toward them, there fell an awful silence, followed by murmurs and gasps of recognition. Then, one by one, they fell to their knees and began to kowtow. One of them cupped his fists and addressed the princess.

  “Honoured lady, we have failed to protect you! Please allow us to take vengeance on this stranger before you destroy us.”

  Morning Light didn’t reply at once. Instead, she turned to look down at Clouded Sky. Her voice was clear and brittle in the vast expanse of the temple.

  “Who are you, stranger?”

  Clouded Sky swallowed an aching lump in his throat.

  “Honoured lady, you really don’t remember me?”

  A tiny line appeared between her eyebrows as she looked down at him with evident distaste.

  “No. Should I?”

  Then she truly was dead. Iron Maiden, his little sister. He swallowed again, and clenched his hand on the severed hair he held.

  “My name is Clouded Sky,” he said huskily. “I’m…” Not a Wudang Sect disciple. Not any more. “I’m nobody in particular.”

  “I see.” Morning Light’s eyes narrowed. Then she turned her sword point-down and cupped her fists, bowing. “For a hundred years I have waited for the one who would end my meditations. Morning Light thanks you, hero.”

  “Princess!” one of the Thorns objected. “He has trespassed in the valley! He has seriously wounded Chief Valuable Ox!

  “If Chief Valuable Ox was any use to me at all, he would have woken me long ago. Give this man anything he wants and send him on his way.” Morning Light turned toward the door.

  “Thousand-years lady, wait!” Clouded Sky leaped to his feet. “I came to ask for your help!”

  Morning Light didn’t look back.

  “My help?”

  “The Heaven-Relying Dragon-Slaying Sword Skill.” Clouded Sky clasped his hands in petition. “A new emperor has arisen in Nanjing. He sends his armies to subdue All-Under-Heaven, and none can resist him! I have come all the way from Hubei to beg your help, heroine.”

  “The Heaven-Relying Dragon-Slaying Sword Skill?” Morning Light laughed. “That is a secret which belongs only to my family! If you think I will let any passing vagabond have it, you are mistaken!”

  Clouded Sky’s heart sank even further. Not only was this princess not Iron Maiden, she was not even like her. He had to struggle to keep his voice calm as he spoke.

  “Before his death, I was the military aide to Duke Roaring Tiger, whose army waits on Mount Jing to face the Vastly Martial Emperor’s onslaught. If we do not have help, Mount Jing will fall and all of Hubei will be subjected to the emperor’s rule. Sichuan will be next. Please, if you will not teach me your martial arts, then come and help us in Hubei.”

  Morning Light considered his words for a moment, but gave a decided shake of her head.

  “My father died embroiling himself in struggles beyond the valley, and he left his people leaderless! I cannot repeat his mistakes. I cannot afford to make enemies.”

  Clouded Sky groaned.

  “What good is it if you return from your sojourn in Heaven, heroine, only to shut yourself away in this valley?”

  “Who are you to question my decisions, stranger? I was advised by those wiser than myself!”

  This was exactly what the Coiling Dragon King had been afraid of. Clouded Sky shook his head in desperation.

  “Thousand-years lady, you said you’d reward me! I woke you from your meditations! Your people killed my friend!”

  “Killed your friend?” Morning Light turned to the villagers. “What is this?”

  “It was the Nameless Girl! She wanted to wake you from your meditations!”

  “I wished to be woken from my meditations! Who was this Nameless Girl?”

  Only one of the guards was brave enough to answer her.

  “Honoured lady, we don’t know who she was, but she looked just like you. She appeared in the valley half a year ago and tried to reach the Temple. We fought her and she fled. Then this morning she came back, bringing this man with her. She had broken our laws twice.”

  “So you killed her.”

  “She must have been a demon. Or a ghost! When Valuable Ox killed her, she vanished!”

  Morning Light turned back to Clouded Sky, more curious now than dismissive.

  “Was she a ghost?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what she was. Not even she knew that. But this is all that’s left of her.” He held out the black hair, blinking back tears.

  Morning Light stepped closer and took the hair from Clouded Sky’s hand. As she looked at it, her eyes widened.

  But there was no time to speak again. Panicked footsteps hurtled up the path from the village, and everyone heard the voice of a young boy shouting.

  “Help! Help! Enemies in the village!”

  The Imperial Sword surveyed Ten Thousand Thorns Village with grim satisfaction. Despite the darkness, Second Brother had led them unerringly through the mountains on Flying Crane’s trail. Better yet, the village was almost deserted when they arrived. Only a handful of the oldest and youngest inhabitants remained in their houses whilst everyone else had gone up to the temple.

  After the many battles he’d fought since leaving Nanjing, the Imperial Sword had only thirty guards with him. Despite their numbers they had subdued the feeble handful of villagers, locked them into the village hall, and barricaded the door with heaps of pine boughs and straw. Now, four of his men stood before the hall with flaming torches, waiting for orders to burn the structure and everyone inside.

  He’d purposefully allowed one of the young boys to escape in order to warn the others. Now Imperial Sword stood on the steps in front of the hall shading his eyes against the morning sunlight and praying that the rest of the village would see reason. Given that he was under orders to kill their princess, he doubted it.

  The boy’s thin cry of warning drifted down from the hillside. The Imperial Sword put his hand to his sword before remembering that the blade was broken, sliced in half by Clouded Sky at Wudang. Instead he reached under his cloak and checked that his spare weapon was safe and accessible. It was time.

  He faced the temple among the pines and shouted: “Clouded Sky! Iron Maiden!”

  A woman in a gold brocaded gown appeared on the edge of the cl
iff above him. The sword in her right hand caught the morning light like a white-hot flame reflected.

  “Morning Light,” he breathed in awe.

  Beside him, Second Brother tensed. The Imperial Sword grabbed his shoulder.

  “Remember what we agreed,” he growled. “We do this my way.”

  He was grateful for the mask he wore. Each time he confronted Second Brother he saw a multitude of questions crossing the bounty hunter’s face. Who was this Imperial Sword? How dangerous? So far, Second Brother had always chosen to put discretion before valour. Now he nodded sourly and dropped his arm.

  “Your way, your excellency.”

  On the hillside, the princess was now joined by a crowd of people: the other villagers. With them was a man whom he recognised as Clouded Sky. There was no sign of Iron Maiden, but it was too late to worry about her now.

  “Princess! Clouded Sky! Come down alone, or we will burn your people alive!”

  At once the princess lifted her arms and stepped from the cliff. Clouded Sky followed her. Imperial Sword’s scalp prickled as he watched the princess fly down, sword extended, golden robes rippling as though she was a phoenix herself. She took the whole drop in one soaring leap and landed on the steps of the hall facing him and Second Brother. Upon seeing her face, the Imperial Sword recoiled a step.

  “Iron Maiden!”

  “You seem frightened. Why is that, I wonder?” She smiled grimly, looking down her golden blade toward him.

  “Who led you here? How dare you threaten my people?”

  “Thousand-years lady.” Clouded Sky had taken the drop from the hillside in a series of shorter leaps, and now landed breathlessly by her side. “This is—”

  “I can see who it is,” she interrupted. “I said, who led you here?”

  Was this really Morning Light? Or just a clever impersonation by Iron Maiden? No time to ask. Imperial Sword pointed to Clouded Sky.

  “This one led me here. We followed you up the mountain and through the cave.”

  “And took my people hostage?” Morning Light took a stance, and the guards who held torches at the hall doors tensed.

  The Imperial Sword raised a hand. “Wait! Princess, I have no wish to burn your people. Let us come to an agreement.”