Never Die

by Rob J. Hayes

  "I just told you, I am Iron Gut!" The fat man stood, gaining his feet more nimbly than his size would suggest. Itami stood to meet him. He was taller than Whispering Blade by a good few inches and his overflowing girth made her look like a stick wearing clothes. "I was just telling your boy about my monkey."

  Zhihao snorted out a laugh. "He's not my boy."

  Iron Gut shrugged. "Your boy. Her boy. Who does it matter? You interrupted my tale…"

  "About your missing monkey?" Zhihao considered taking a step closer, but he didn't want to get too close to the fat man. His experience told him men of that size tended to be slow, but if they got hold of you all they had to do was sit down and there was little that could be done but suffocate underneath the mountain of sour flesh.

  "I don't like your tone," the fat man said. "You should learn from your boy, he listens with respect."

  "He's not my…"

  "I am Iron Gut Chen," Iron Gut shouted. Some nearby merchants, still packing up, scampered away quickly.

  "Well I am The Emerald Wind," Zhihao shouted back. Despite his deeper voice, his proclamation didn't sound nearly as impressive. He punctuated the statement with a mocking bow closer to a curtsy.

  "Who?"

  Zhihao straightened up. He felt hot and angry, the good mood from his drubbing of the cook evaporated. "I don't like you, Lead Belly." For the first time he noticed the weapon lying behind Iron Gut's stool. It was a large mace with a metal haft half as long as Zhihao was tall, and a head of stone as large as a pregnant sow. If it was half as solid as it looked, Zhihao couldn't imagine anyone even lifting the thing, let alone swinging it with precision. Iron Gut Chen was either the strongest man alive, or a mad fool. Likely both.

  "Are you certain, Ein?" Itami asked the boy. She was standing far too close to the fat man, well within grabbing distance.

  The boy nodded. "Yes. I need him."

  Itami looked at Zhihao. "Are you going to sit this one out as well? Do you only attack defenceless cooks?"

  "Defenceless? He had a vast array of knives. It's not my fault he had not the technique to use them for anything other than gutting vegetables."

  Whatever else he was, Iron Gut was not so stupid as to miss the point of the conversation, but he neither moved nor readied himself for the attack. He stood there with his beefy hands on his sides, and a mad grin atop his many chins.

  Zhihao sighed. "I really don't think you're going to need me on this one. But if you insist."

  The boy stood, dusted off his knees and bowed his head to the fat man. "Iron Gut Chen. I am sorry, but I need your help. I have a quest to carry out, and only those bound to me can be trusted for it. I am sorry, but you must die."

  The grin slipped from Iron Gut's face. "I liked you, boy. But there is something strange about you." He growled and slapped his belly again. "Come then. Do you think this will be easy? Do you think this my first fight? Do you see any scars on my skin?"

  The boy padded away on bare feet to watch from a distance. He wasn't the only one. With the prospect of a fight, between self-proclaimed heroes and legends no less, a crowd of people were gathering at the outskirts of the market. No doubt some enterprising merchant would already be taking bets.

  "You should retrieve your weapon," Itami said, her voice barely a breath. She crouched into a ready stance, one hand on her sword hilt. Zhihao had seen it before, draw and slice in one motion. Back near Kaishi she had cut a man in half with a similar strike.

  "I will when I need it."

  Zhihao shook his head. The boy wanted heroes, those strong enough to fight, and smart enough not to die needlessly. He had never heard of Iron Gut Chen before, but he was fairly certain they had no need for a fat fool about to get introduced to his own intestines.

  "Very well." Itami drew in a breath, tightened her grip, and drew her sword in a deadly slash.

  Chapter 14

  Whispering Blade and The Emerald Wind vs Iron Gut Chen

  Peace scraped across Iron Gut's belly with a sound like screaming steel. Cho felt the shock of it travel up her arm. There was no wound, no parted flesh, no blood, nor even a scratch on the man's skin. His flesh wobbled from the force of the strike, but little more. He grinned down at Cho, his hairless face like some giant grotesque babe. She danced away from him on nimble feet, extending Peace to the side, prepared to retaliate, but Iron Gut didn't move. He just laughed at them and shook his head.

  "You think they call me Iron Gut for nothing?" He turned away from them, and pushed stool and parasol aside to get to his mace.

  Cho looked across to Zhihao, but said nothing. The Emerald Wind grinned and drew both his hooked swords. "Seems simple enough to me. Don't attack his belly." He leapt forwards, bringing both blades down on Iron Gut's back as the fat man reached for his mace. The blades hit flesh with a dull thud and nothing else. The Emerald Wind drew both swords down, across each other in an attack that should have carved the man's back crossways, but the edges just slipped across skin and left not a mark.

  Iron Gut, his back still turned to them, stood up to his full height. He lifted his mace and swung it over his head towards his back. The Emerald Wind threw himself sideways just in time to stop the head of the mace crushing him against the fat man's back. When Iron Gut turned to face them, he brought his mace swinging round, whooshing through the air. Cho backed off another step, putting some distance between them, and Zhihao did the same, no longer looking quite so confident. When the fat man was certain he had their attention, he drew his mace up and brought it down hard on the flagstones beneath them. The ground shook from the impact, pale stone crushed and shattering to chips of rock. Then Iron Gut left his mace embedded in the stone, rushed forwards, and slammed his belly into Cho. She tumbled backwards, rolling along the ground, and used the momentum to flip back onto her feet. The man had surprised her, shocked her into inaction, but such a trick would only work once.

  Cho winced at the pain in her ribs. She took Peace in both hands and charged forwards, attacking Iron Gut head on while The Emerald Wind circled around behind him. She slashed him across the chest and then circled her blade around before slicing at his ankles, a dangerous high-low combo, but Iron Gut received not a scratch. He threw a meaty fist at Cho's head but she ducked away just in time,

  Zhihao moved in from behind him to wrap a hooked blade around Iron Gut's ankles, the ankle was too big and the blade scraped away. Iron Gut spun around and snatched up his mace. He swung its giant head at The Emerald Wind, but the bandit's image scattered like smoke before a breeze.

  The Emerald Wind's technique confused Iron Gut for a moment. The fat man frowned, no doubt wondering where his opponent had disappeared to. Cho seized the opportunity to dash back in. She slashed Peace across the belly, then ducked behind him, dragging the blade along his hip. The Emerald Wind reappeared in front of the fat man and swung both swords at his face. They slipped across the skin of his neck, without a trace, and Iron Gut whipped his mace at Zhihao, but The Emerald Wind had disappeared again.

  Cho leapt up onto the fat man's back, digging sandals into the folds of his flesh, and drove Peace down as hard as she could into the fleshy folds at the back of the man's neck. The blade skidded a little, then caught. It was just like trying to drive a sword through stone, the skin didn't break at all. Cho flipped backward in to the air and landed on her feet, then she leapt away just before Iron Gut swung his mace around with a high-pitched roar. He charged her, whipping his mace up and down, each blow shattering the stone beneath them and sending fragments flying into the air. Cho glided backwards on silent feet across the stones. She was running out of room and would soon be crushed against a wall. Iron Gut came on relentlessly, an angry light to his eyes. Cho slid to a halt, and set Peace humming with a whisper, then leapt into Iron Gut's attack, slipping to his right while he swung left. Peace caught and trailed across the man's belly and he stumbled on, slowing to a stop and leaning against the gaol wall, huffing in deep breaths. Cho stood from her stance and let out a si
gh, glancing back at Iron Gut over her shoulder.

  "That hurt," Iron Gut said. He ran a hand across his belly, but there was no blood, not even a scratch. Even Cho's whispering blade technique couldn't pierce his skin. Iron Gut raised a finger. "I'm going to need a minute." He put his back against the wall and leaned, breathing deeply. His face was flushed red and he was dripping sweat.

  Zhihao walked over to Cho to strategise while Iron Gut tried to catch his breath. "Any idea what we should do?" he said. "I assume that was your fancy thrumming blade technique?"

  Cho nodded and glanced down at Peace, and then to its partner sword, forever sheathed in the dual saya.

  Iron Gut finally had enough breath to speak again. "Infusing the sword with qi." He was still leaning against the wall, his beady eyes staring at them from his pudgy face. "Very smart. But I am Iron Gut. My qi is strong. It makes my skin harder than steel."

  Cho smiled then. "What do you know about qi?" she whispered to The Emerald Wind.

  Zhihao laughed. "Not a thing."

  Cho looked at him, incredulous. "You just said you were a monk for twelve years."

  The Emerald Wind snorted. "I was a very poor monk. They weren't about to teach me the secrets of such power."

  Iron Gut pushed away from the wall, set a pudgy hand on his mace, and swung it onto his shoulder. "Qi is spirit," he squeaked. "We all have it, but some have more than others." He slapped his belly again. "My qi is strong, and I know how to channel it. Now then…"

  The fat man heaved his mace up into the air and slammed it down on the flagstones, shattering them into hundreds of little pieces. A large section of stone leapt up into the air and Iron Gut took his mace in both hands, and swung at it. Cho realised too late what he was doing and ducked, shielding her head. The Emerald Wind simply faded away as dozens of stone chips battered Cho, stinging her skin and tearing open little cuts along her arms and legs. When she looked up, Iron Gut was on her, his mace in full swing.

  Cho dropped into a crouch and then flattened herself to the stone floor and felt the mace pass over, air whipping at her clothing. Then she rose to one knee and thrust Peace upwards into Iron Gut's groin. It was far from an honourable strike. But master Akihiko had once said Honour can be lost a dozen times, and regained. Life can only be lost once, and never regained. He was wrong about the second part, apparently. Peace slipped through the fabric of Iron Gut's short trousers and thudded to a stop. Cho glanced up to see the fat man's eyes gone wide. Then he smiled. He swung his mace up and then brought it down just as Cho threw herself sideways, rolled away, and jumped back to her feet. Still, Iron Gut remained unscathed.

  "Are you absolutely sure you need this one?" Zhihao shouted to Ein, kneeling patiently next to a stall across the street.

  Ein nodded. "My quest requires Iron Gut Chen. You promised to kill him for me."

  "How?"

  Ein seemed to have no answer to that. The boy just watched, his stare intense and his red scarf twisted in his fingers.

  The Emerald Wind groaned and then scattered on the wind. Cho looked back at Iron Gut and found him smiling. He reached out with his right hand just as Zhihao reappeared and wrapped his fat fingers around the bandit's neck. Cho saw the surprise on The Emerald Wind's face, and the panic. He started flailing with his swords, battering them against Iron Gut's head and shoulders, but the fat man didn't even flinch.

  "Your qi betrays you." Iron Gut punctuated the words with an uppercut to Zhihao's stomach that had him gasping. He dropped the swords and clawed at the hand around his throat, but Cho could see the grip was too tight. Zhihao was dying… again.

  Cho set Peace humming again with a whisper and dashed towards the two men and slashed at Iron Gut's elbow, but again the blade just stopped. The fat man merely grimaced. Then he kicked out at Cho. She danced back slashing at his foot to no effect. He still held Zhihao's throat, and the bandit's eyes were rolling back in his head, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

  Cho drew Peace down to her side and set it humming once more, whispering to it again and again until the blade set the air around it buzzing and she struggled to hold it. Then she darted in, dodging around Iron Gut's flailing fist, and slashed at his belly once more, releasing all of the energy she had been building up within Peace. The blade screamed as it dragged across rippling flesh. Iron Gut stumbled back two steps and grunted. Then he dropped to one knee, still clutching Zhihao by the neck. He pressed the bandit's face to the flagstones, then wiped a hand across his giant belly – still no blood..

  A crack of thunder rumbled around the marketplace and Iron Gut's head snapped back. The fat man teetered for a moment, then collapsed backwards, dragging Zhihao with him. Cho slid Peace back into its saya and rushed to unclench Iron Gut's fingers from Zhihao's neck. Zhihao flopped free and lay there panting and rubbing at his bruised neck.

  "You did it," Zhihao wheezed. "How the fuck did you do it?"

  Ein walked towards them. Behind him Cho could see the gathered crowd of onlookers were in something of an uproar, some pointing towards them, and others towards a nearby wall that circled the market.

  "I don't think I did," Cho said as Ein drew close, rummaging in his little bag. She looked down at Iron Gut. Where his left eye should have been, there was a deep bloody hole.

  "Huh." Zhihao kicked Iron Gut's flabby corpse. "Well then we'll call ourselves lucky. Bastard!" He spat on the fat man's face.

  Ein showed no fear, immediately poking at the wounded eye socket. "I can't fix this with a needle. I need a metal poker and fire." He looked up at them, but neither Cho nor Zhihao moved to help him.

  Zhihao, still rubbing his neck, said, "I'm really not sure I want this one to come back."

  "I'm more worried about who killed him." Cho added and turned around to look at the crowd, who were creeping closer to get a look at their fallen champion.

  Then the crowd parted, as a lithe figure strode into the square. At first Cho thought it might be one of the monks, come to enquire about the nature of the fight, but it didn't look like any of the others she had seen. The figure was short and slight, and wore a loose coat and trousers, both of the darkest green. They walked on wooden sandals that clacked on the stone, and carried a long rifle slung over one shoulder. But the most notable thing was that the person was covered head to toe in bandages, wrapped tight against the skin, only their left eye remained uncovered. As he drew closer Cho could see the eye was milky white. Some of the crowd trailed in the newcomer's wake, and Cho heard the name Death's Echo muttered several times, though it was one she did not recognise.

  "Eh?" Zhihao grunted as he retrieved his swords. "Who's this?"

  "I think it might be your saviour," Cho said. She bowed her head as the newcomer stopped in front of them. His flesh was wrinkled and brown around the eye, and there were stains on the bandages in places where something underneath had seeped through.

  "I still need a poker and some coals," Ein said.

  "Thank you for your help," Cho said. "My name is—"

  "Whispering Blade." The man's voice was ragged and wet, muffled by the bandages. He blinked and turned his eye on Zhihao. "And you are The Emerald Wind. And that is Iron Gut Chen."

  Zhihao snorted. "It was."

  The bandaged man nodded. "And will be again. My name is Roi Astara."

  Cho glanced behind the man at the gathered crowd. "They called you Death's Echo."

  Ein moved to stand next to Cho. He looked up at the bandaged man and for a moment they just stared at each other, then Ein turned back to Cho, his scarf in his hands once more. "If I am to bring him back, I need to cauterise the wound. I cannot fix it. I need fire and a poker."

  Roi Astara bowed to the boy. "As you wish." He turned to the crowd. "Could someone please fetch a metal poker, with an end no larger than a coin, and a brazier of coals. Perhaps from the blacksmith?" A couple of the townsfolk lingering nearby briefly conversed, then ran to carry out the task. It seemed odd to Cho that a man wrapped entirely in stained bandages could
demand such obedience. She wondered if he were some sort of city official.

  "Well I suppose I should be grateful." Zhihao took a deep breath and. "Thank you for saving my life."

  The bandaged man ignored him and knelt before Ein. "I know you," he said. "The stars told me you would come." Pale stare met pale stare, and Cho found herself quite glad she wasn't in the middle of it. "I swear myself to you and your quest."

  Chapter 15

  Chen Lu - Iron Gut

  "To master one's qi is to master one's body.

  To master one's body is to master one's self.

  To master one's self is to master one's destiny.

  Now bring me another chicken!"

  - Iron Gut Chen, on the mysteries of qi.

  Chen woke to pain and the smell of burning meat, and one of those things was rare to him. His face hurt. He couldn't say why exactly, but it definitely felt wrong. It wasn't that he didn't know pain, just that he barely felt it these days other than the occasional aching of joints and trapped gas. He sniffed at the smell of cooking meat, burned past edible, he guessed, and it made his face hurt even more. When he opened his eyes he saw he was still in the same stone square where he had met the boy, and told of all his old adventures. It was still a new night and the moon was young in its cycle. When he sat up he found the two fools he had been duelling were still there, watching him.

  "What—" Chen coughed. There was something in the back of his throat, something hard and foul tasting. He coughed again, hacked, and then spat a small metal ball into the palm of his hand.

  The man with the long face and horseshoe moustache laughed so hard he had to sit down. Chen remembered holding the man by his throat, crushing the life from him. He couldn't fathom why he'd let the man live. The woman with the qi-infused blade stood nearby, hand resting on the hilt of that same sword she had set humming with only her spirit. The boy was closer, kneeling next to Chen, scrutiny in his ghostly eyes.