by Rob J. Hayes
Morning found them bleary eyed and poorly rested. Cho had moved her chair to the wall and slept with her head back, earning a ferocious crick in her neck. The Emerald Wind flopped down face first onto the table and slept in puddle equal parts wine and drool. But the boy slept not at all. He was wide eyed when Cho let sleep claim her, and in the same position when she woke, still staring at her across the table. When she quizzed him about it, Ein just shrugged and offered no excuse.
They breakfasted on eggs again, boiled this time, though still tasting of dried mud. It appeared the inn kept a chicken coop nearby and Flaming Fist's men had let it be. Ein ate sparingly, picking at a single egg, and leaving it unfinished. The Emerald Wind had no such qualms and ate as many as he was given, complaining about the taste with each bite.
They left the inn early, the sun was low but bright. Bruised clouds gathered in clumps on the horizon, and a meandering breeze promised a slighter cooler day than the last. They set their feet towards the sun and walked on. Cho paused briefly to offer one last prayer at the Century Blade's grave, and she promised justice for what had been done to him. She hoped he was watching from the stars. She hoped he'd approve. Likely he would council against it though, saying there was no use risking her life to honour one that was long past caring. It didn't matter, she'd carry out her justice even if the old master appeared as a yokai and forbid it; not that Cho could imagine the Century Blade coming back as a vengeful spirit. Besides, it wasn't just him she wanted justice for. Flaming Fist was responsible for the deaths of the Red Bull and Hundred Cuts. He was responsible for everyone who died when Kaishi burned. He was responsible for yet another broken oath and Cho would make him pay for it.
Cho took one last look back down the road they had travelled yesterday. Kaishi looked fine. The bodies staked by the roadside were gone, taken down sometime in the night. The fires had burnt out and the smoke cleared. The wall stood unbreached. The city on its little hill looked as alive as any other and, judging by the slow trickle of traffic now on the road, it would soon be thriving once more despite the deaths of so many of its people. It seemed a horrid waste to Cho that so many of them had died in a failed attempt to protect the city, and yet just a few days later it soldiered on as though nothing had happened. She turned her back on Kaishi then, and put it, and her failed oath, firmly in the past. Her future promised to be just as violent.
For a long time they walked in silence, passing farmers and merchants on the road, some of whom offered a polite greeting, and others gave them wary distance. It was likely the clothing, Cho decided. The Emerald Wind had his faded scale armour, long ago painted the colour of emeralds and stained with mud and blood he hadn't bothered to wash away. Cho wore her stolen blouse and trousers, taken from one of Flaming Fist's men. It fit her poorly and made her look more vagabond than hero. Worse still was the way it itched and she could only hope the corpse she had taken the clothes from had not had lice. She determined to buy some new clothing as soon as they next entered a city, preferably something of Ipian make.
The Emerald Wind was a sullen grump ranging just a few paces ahead of them to claim some measure of solitude. Given the number of bottles he had emptied last night, Cho guessed it to be a hangover and one he was unlikely to recover from quickly. She was happy for the quiet though, it gave her time to reflect on her situation and all that had happened. It also gave her time to nurture the flame of hatred and anger, turning it into a blaze she would use to fight Flaming Fist. Ein struggled to keep pace, but did not complain. Despite his obvious exertion, he did not sweat, nor slow, nor even loosen his bright red scarf. He hugged his little bag tight to his chest and soldiered on, eyes locked on the eastern horizon.
Eventually they left the road, The Emerald Wind silently veering away north from the beaten track. If he followed any track at all, Cho could not see them. She expected to see grass trampled flat, dirt churned to mud or pounded into miniature mountain ranges. But there was none of that. They waded through long blade grass, feet squelching in the mud below.
"Are you sure about this?"
The Emerald Wind startled at her words. He turned to her then, stopping and rubbing at his face. He yawned and nodded at the same time, before settling into a squint as if the southern sun was too bright all of a sudden. "Fist always makes camp at the standing stones. He thinks being so close to history makes him a part of it." He shrugged. "Complete crap if you ask me. It's this way."
Cho stopped and put a hand on Ein's shoulder to pull him to a halt. The tingling numbness that spread through her, it felt as though she were being sucked into a cold, black void. She quickly pulled her hand away and squeezed it into a fist a few times. "There are no tracks. Where are you leading us?"
The Emerald Wind nodded. "Very true. It's a small wonder. It's still this way though. Fist and what's left of his band have returned to their camp. I left some things there, I wonder if the bastards have gotten round to filching any of it yet."
Cho kept still, trying to decide if the bandit was telling the truth or leading them into some sort of trap. He had spoken to the two men back at the inn, asked them to kill Ein. It was not beyond the realms of possibility that he might have a new plan to see them both dead. But then he had ample opportunity to kill the boy back at the inn, while Cho was burying the Century Blade. The Emerald Wind could have simply stabbed the boy himself. Cho glanced down at Ein again, still and quiet, resolute and determined. She couldn't deny there was something off about the boy that went much deeper than his apparent ability to bring the dead back to mostly life.
"Are we going or not?" The Emerald Wind asked. "I know you want your revenge…"
"Justice."
The Emerald Wind threw up his hands. "Call it whatever you want. I still think it's a bad idea. You don't know Fist. He's a monster. We're already on one suicide mission, why tempt fate by throwing in a second?"
"Are you leading us the right way?" Cho asked again. She kept her voice as flat as possible, but there was anger there, creeping in and sharpening her words.
"Yes! How many times must I say it? Those two you killed back at the inn said Fist was back at the camp. We'll reach it by nightfall… Probably. It's set up on a hill overlooking everything nearby. We won't be able to approach without being seen, and we have no idea how many of his men are left."
"You sound scared."
The Emerald Wind barked out a laugh. "Fear is healthy. I saw the Century Blade kill fifty men. Men I drank, ate, and fought with. Maybe not the best warriors in the world, but skilled enough to make a living out of it. He cut them down with barely any effort. Do you know how long I lasted against the old man?"
"Yes," Ein said quietly, pale eyes fixed on The Emerald Wind.
"Seconds. One breath, two, then that sword sliding into my heart." The Emerald Wind turned away and started walking, cutting his way through the long grass with angry strides. "A man as good as that, who can beat me with such ease, and Fist killed him. That right there is a man worth being scared of. Fear of him has kept me alive for a long time. Now that I'm only mostly alive I'm even more scared."
Cho quickened her pace to catch up with The Emerald Wind, well aware that Ein was labouring to keep up. "He didn't beat the Century Blade alone. Fist's men swarmed him. Ein saw it."
"That's not as much comfort as you might think."
Ein caught up on the other side of the bandit, and stared up at him. Then The Emerald Wind stopped and his image blew away like petals on a wind that wasn't there. Cho startled as he reappeared on the other side of her, calmly walking on as though nothing had happened. Ein stepped in to fill the space he had left.
"You said he's a monster. Flaming Fist. So why follow him?" Ein asked.
The Emerald Wind laughed bitterly. "The thing about this world, the way to survive, is you either become the worst monster you can be, or you find someone else willing to be an even worse monster, and make yourself useful. I learned early in life there are some things I'm just not willing to do, to othe
rs and to myself. So I found someone who was."
"How very heroic," Cho said, keeping pace. She rested one hand on Peace's at all times.
"I never claimed to be any sort of hero," The Emerald Wind said. "Quite the opposite actually."
"But you can be," Ein said. "You can live up to the stories I read about you. The good ones."
The Emerald Wind shook his head. "The Nash have a saying, boy. Tomorrow is just more of yesterday. I'm no one's hero. The sooner you realise that, the sooner you can release me from this suicidal quest of yours. Because I'm not going to help you kill the Emperor of Ten Kings. I'm going to betray you the first chance I get, and if that doesn't work I'll take the second chance, and the third, and every other chance I can find." With that The Emerald Wind stalked ahead, putting some distance between them.
Cho and Ein walked in silence for a while, a few steps behind the bandit. "I believe he is telling the truth," Cho said eventually. She knew full well that the best option available to them was to give The Emerald Wind his second death before he became a problem.
Ein shook his head. "It takes a lifetime of evil to be a villain, and only one moment of good to be a hero."
That seemed to be all the boy would say on the matter, and Cho spent some time mulling over his words. It seemed to her the boy had it backwards.
They didn't reach Flaming Fist's camp that night, and The Emerald Wind blamed Ein for setting such a slow pace. It seemed unfair to blame a boy for the length of his legs, but the bandit was in a foul mood and it only seemed to get worse the closer they got to their destination. Cho almost believed he didn't want to return to his life of banditry. Almost.
There were no dreams where Zhihao went when he closed his eyes, only darkness. It was, perhaps, the best sleep he had had in many years. Usually his dreams were full of the things he had done and seen. Sometimes a reoccurring dream from his childhood: the death of his cat, a little black moggy with bright eyes that had followed him everywhere he went in Ban Ping. Some people claimed their dreams were a welcome escape to a better world, or a pathway into their true selves, a way to fathom what their own minds hid from them. Others still, claimed dreams to be portents of the future. Zhihao believed none of it. His dreams were nightmares sent to torture him for all the wrong he had visited upon the world, and all the wrong he continued to visit upon it despite those tortures. So he counted it a welcome respite that he no longer dreamed, and believed that perhaps being only mostly alive came with some benefits.
But he woke, surrounded by the dark with only their small, crackling fire for light, and all thoughts of respite fled. The boy was watching him. Not from across the fire, nor even from his own cloth cloak. The boy was sitting close, just an arm's length away, and watching him. In the dark his stare looked empty, like two pools of icy death reflecting nothing at all.
Zhihao's breath caught in his throat and he found himself unable to move. He was locked in place, watching the boy watching him. Fear had ever come easy to Zhihao, and his miraculous resurrection did nothing to stem the tide of it that rose up now and threatened to wash all reason from him. He tried to move, struggled against his own flesh, and found himself a prisoner of whatever terror it was held him in place.
Very slowly, the boy leaned forwards. He wore no expression, just that blank, fathomless stare that led all the way to the void between the stars. When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper so quiet Zhihao barely heard it.
"I am the worst monster you know."
The boy held Zhihao's stare for a moment that seemed a lifetime, and then turned away and crawled back to his cloak where he curled into a ball.
Zhihao found himself able to move again and immediately rolled away and rose to his feet. He was just about to launch into a sprint to anywhere but there, when he realised the truth of it. He couldn't run. He was bound to the boy until one or both of them were dead. He crept back to his own pallet and sank down onto his arse. Accepting that sleep was well and truly beyond him, Zhihao settled in to take his turn keeping watch, though in truth he watched nothing but the boy. Worst of all, the boy watched him back, never sleeping nor even blinking. All night they stared at each other until the sun broke free of the horizon.
Chapter 9
Fist's lookouts saw them coming, just as The Emerald Wind had said they would. It was impossible for them not to with the sun high and the morning bright as it was, and the approach to camp long and wide open. They walked over flattened blade grass, crushed into mud and dried into unstable, crumbling footing. It was the most direct route up the steep the hill, and the only one with an opening in the stakes set around the top. It seemed to Cho that Flaming Fist knew his stuff when it came to defending a position, and the nearby forest had felt many an axe to create the fortifications.
With the hill so steep, Cho could see little of the camp at its summit. For all she knew they could be walking right into the midst of an army ready for combat and bristling with energy and sharp objects. If that was the case then so be it, she would walk in with her head high and Peace sharp and ready for the bloody work at hand. Her sworn oath would not let her turn back. She could not abandon this one.
Ein stumbled on the approach, stubbing a toe on a rock. He didn't curse, nor make a sound at the pain, and neither Cho nor The Emerald Wind stopped to help him back up. Cho had no wish to repeat the feeling from the last time she had touched the boy, the memory of it was deterrent enough. The boy got his feet back under him and hurried to catch up, walking alongside The Emerald Wind despite the man constantly shying away from him. Cho walked behind them, readying herself for the fight.
She counted only three lookouts. One was a fat man with hairy jowls, a crooked nose, and lank grey hair. The other two were thinner and looked like brothers, perhaps even twins, both sporting heavily lined faces weathered near to leather by too many years under an uncaring sun. The easiest jobs were often left to the oldest soldiers. Even so, it seemed a scant number to be watching such a large camp.
"Who is that?" shouted the fat man as they drew closer.
Far from the busy hive of activity Cho expected, the camp seemed more full of ghosts than soldiers. She saw a couple of dozen tents, flapping in the slight breeze, and almost as many fire pits, long since burned to cold ash. A single line of dark smoke twisted upwards farther in, and the smell on the breeze was not of cooking but of unwashed bodies. It was far too small a camp to house the hundreds who had sacked Kaishi. Cho wondered if Flaming Fist had designed it that way, knowing that so many would die in the assault. Above the camp loomed the standing stones, each as tall as twenty men, with stories carved onto every surface. Together they told the history of Hosa; all the wars, all of the marriages between the great kings and queens, all of the plagues that ravaged the lands. The standing stones were Hosa's history carved into rock to last an eternity.
The Emerald Wind slogged up the last rise to where the stakes stopped and the two brothers waited, their swords drawn. Dull steel in dull hands made for a poor defence. Along with a nearly empty camp. Cho was beginning to reconsider the idea that she might not make it out alive.
"You're dead," the two brothers said in unison as The Emerald Wind approached, their voices so similar they sounded as one. Both faces held the same look of utter confusion.
The Emerald Wind stopped in front of the two brothers. "Do I look dead to you? Either of you? What about you, Tuntun? Do I look dead to you?" He was almost shouting and his voice was attracting attention. Two more of Flaming Fist's men appeared from around a tent and stared towards them. Cho stopped behind The Emerald Wind, her left hand pulling Peace's saya back a little, her right sitting on the hilt, ready to draw and strike all at once.
"No." The fat bandit's jowls shook with his head. "But… You have to be."
"Why? Because Kui said so? Kui just wanted you to think that so he could steal my fucking rings." The Emerald Wind waved a hand in front of Tuntun's face. "Where is the thieving little toad?"
"Who?"
"Kui!" The Emerald Wind shouted. "Little bastard with a nose that looks like it was squashed onto his face."
The brothers and the fat bandit shared a look. They were blocking the entrance to the camp, and Cho counted four more bandits, all armed, moving their way. "How many of your people are left?" she asked.
"A couple dozen," said Tuntun, leaning around The Emerald Wind to ogle her. "Only ones ain't deserted. It's not the like old days anymore. Who are you anyway?"
The Emerald Wind glanced back at Cho and Ein then and Cho saw in his face he meant to betray them both. It was in the way his eyes passed over them, not even acknowledging he had seen them. "I have no idea, feel free to kill them." He might have been their superior in life, but now The Emerald Wind was only mostly alive, and the men of Flaming Fist's camp had seen him die. They didn't move.
Ein stepped up beside The Emerald Wind and touched his hand. The man jumped backwards, a haunted grimace on his face. Cho was certain then that he felt the same thing she did when touching the boy. He felt the same empty, sucking void.
"You are bound to me," Ein said as he fiddled nervously with his little red scarf.
"What's that?" asked Tuntun, echoed by the brothers. The three guards stared at Ein.
The Emerald Wind glared down at the boy as though he were some sort of monster, fear incarnate.
"What do you think will happen if I die?" Ein continued. "What do you think will happen to you?"
For a moment the guards and The Emerald Wind stood almost still, staring at Ein. Beyond the tents, Cho could see the bandits' reinforcements readying weapons and turning towards the camp entrance.
The Emerald Wind sighed. "Shit."
The Emerald Wind disappeared, blown away on the breeze. The bandits in the camp were rightly shocked, but they had little time to react. Almost as soon as he vanished, he reappeared behind the lookouts and drove the spiked hilt of a sword through the back of Tuntun's neck. He used his other sword to hook one of the brother's legs, and pull him off his feet. Cho stepped into the skirmish, drawing Peace and cutting one brother in half before reversing her grip and driving the blade down into the other brother's heart. Two more souls taken by her sword.