He closed his nostrils to her perfume; shut the vision of her beauty from his eyes, though his eyelids remained open. The touch of her skin, soft like silk, had no effect on him.
“You’re wasting your time,” he said. “To me you are only the essence of evil.”
Jasmine wet her lips with her tongue. “There was a period when I was not wasting my time.”
“Those days are gone, Jasmine. You are not a woman. You’re a wicked spirit.”
“And you,” she said, still swishing her gown seductively. “You are nothing to me. You’ll be less than nothing before I’m through.”
Master Yun followed her every movement with his eyes. She had come from the direction of the Black Mountains, from Esen’s camp.
“So that’s your plan,” he said. “You let Quan’s warriors win this round in order to weaken me.”
“I never could put one over on you, could I, old man?”
“Why do you want the girl?”
Her scarlet lips quirked, and she shrugged, never lifting her gaze from him.
“You would incite the wrath of the barbarians and bring China to her knees,” he said.
“Something like that.”
“It’s a dangerous game you play,” Master Yun warned.
“I exist for no other reason, Warlock. I came to see what protects Lotus Lily. Now I see that you really are just an old man.”
She hissed and became the fox, leaped onto his chest as he threw up his hands to shield his face, but too slow to ward her off. As she tore at his throat, he called on the power of the Jade Fountain to rise. The trickle of water that fell from the rock escalated to a spray, and the forces that move the water in the earth shot forward and washed the fox from him. It was all Master Yun could do to haul himself upright from the floor; the effort to defend himself had sapped all of his energy. The time for battles had ended. Indeed, peace had come. He was weak.
The cold air slowed the bleeding and soon it would stop. He staggered to the temple entrance, clutching his neck, and hugged one of its yellow pillars. Another second’s delay and he would have died. He gasped for air and felt the saliva dribble at the corner of his mouth as he watched the golden fox escape and sail across the parkland toward the palace. It was worse than he feared; Jasmine’s strength was growing swiftly. Even she didn’t know how powerful she was. He had to get Lotus Lily out of the Forbidden City.
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Today was the big day. Where was Master Yun? He was always at the exercise yard first. Li rubbed her hands together to fend off the bite of the February wind and squinted in the direction of the Koi Gardens. She inhaled and closed her eyes, practising Chi. To be as good at the martial arts as she was, one had to exercise control. Only rigid control was preventing her from succumbing to the anxiety in her mind or to the cold air that could paralyse her body. “Practice your form like you were sparring and spar like it was a form,” she murmured to herself. “Master your breath.”
Li repeated several simple movements until she began to feel warm, and after she completed a few more stances Master Yun walked into the yard with a dark look on his face, and a white bandage wound around his neck. All of the boys lined up in formation and began to imitate the exercises that the master performed. White uniforms flashed in the morning sun as each practiced sublime discipline. He nodded at her but warned her to keep silent.
After what she had witnessed—the horrendous torture of Ju Jong—Li was desperate to escape her Imperial prison. Although the grand secretary was two months dead, his screams sliced like a knife into her memory.
Not yet, his expression said. She forced herself to be patient, but all the time she practiced she thought of nothing except for one question: What had happened to his neck?
Master Yun stood on one leg, the other bent to his knee. His hands rose over his head, steepled like the snow-dusted mountain to the north. He moved smoothly, then paused, and Li turned to see what had caught his eye.
Captain Chi Quan was heading up the path with Lieutenant He Zhu and several other soldiers dressed in furred caps and boots. They entered the exercise yard and studied the thousand plus boys practising in the cold. Master Yun went to meet them and they spoke, then they came toward the students and Master Yun requested their attention. Everyone stopped to listen, and at Master Yun’s nod, Quan stepped forward and cleared the phlegm from his throat.
“I know you young men are training to be warriors,” he said, the fur of his cap quivering in the wind. “You weren’t expecting to leave the city until well after winter. Some of you will be sent to the garrisons at Guyuan, Yulin and Shanxi. Others will come with me to Datong after the New Year to begin the building of the border walls. The draw will take place in one hour, after practice.”
Five thousand men were needed to build the portion of the wall that linked the Datong garrison to the border town of Xuanfu and Xuanfu to the mountain pass at Shanhaiguan. Half of her classmates, including herself, were picked to go to Datong with Captain Chi Quan. Over the next few weeks, the remainder of the workers would be recruited from villages along the existing embankment. The wall would consist of seventy-two walled forts complete with signal towers.
Before long, the New Year arrived. Dressed as a boy in fur cap and boots, rather than as Lotus Lily, Li went to the New Years festival in town. Most of the guests were garbed in shades of crimson and scarlet, shouting guo nian to each other, and handing out red paper envelopes to encourage ‘the passing of the beast.’ When she was little, Li used to embrace the lion dances while other children ran squealing from the gyrating horned brute that looked not much like a lion at all. It was purported to emerge from the mountains each spring to attack the city and townsfolk. At the time, Li suspected Nian was merely a couple of acrobats in costumes and no monster at all, but now she wondered. Was there truth to the tales? Was the creature really afraid of loud noises and the colour red? The horned beast gyrated down the street like a possessed serpent, closed in on her, firecrackers snapping around it. Someone grabbed her shoulders, and jerked her back from the street. Li gasped as she saw that the youth manipulating Nian’s head was Lok Yu. Recognizing her as Li, the boy, he deliberately darted the head at her face, then several costumed characters danced about the beastly head, cutting off Lok Yu’s attack.
A hand on her chin sent her eyes upward. Master Yun, who had towed her out of harm’s way, glowered at her. “Be wary,” he said, breath frosting as he spoke. He lowered his tone so that no one else heard. “You are not Lok Yu’s favourite person.”
An understatement, she thought. Li turned back to the street performers and caught Lok Yu’s piercing glare.
“That boy has been chosen to go to Datong, too. You will be living in close quarters with him and hundreds of men. Listen carefully to me, Li. Never, ever let anyone know you are a girl. Not even Quan. The captain may be the only thing between you and the warlord, Esen, but you mustn’t tell him anyway. What he doesn’t know, he can’t let slip. Ignorance of your sex is the only thing that will protect you. My power won’t reach where you are going.”
The Mongols were defeated, the two kingdoms at peace. Why did he worry about Esen? Surely the barbarians grappled against winter, their numbers decimated. An attack on Beijing now would mean certain disaster.
Master Yun looked to the west, before sending his gaze back to her. “I can no longer protect you here. With the wall building, there will be no more battles, and I will weaken while the fox faerie grows strong on the sexual energy of her lords.”
“If you have the power to release the ghosts of the dead, why don’t you do it?” she asked. “Why don’t you destroy Esen once and for all?” When Master Yun failed to answer, Li nodded. “So it’s Esen I should fear. Jasmine told me he wanted me, that he would build me a grand palace.”
“I doubt if that is his intention. Pay no heed to the fox faerie’s promises. For now, your innocence protects you. She cannot touch you until you have given yourself to a man. The future of the Middl
e Kingdom depends on you.”
For the first time, Li saw what a formidable foe Master Yun could be if crossed. He locked hard eyes on her, lowered his voice. “Already you grow obstinate. Stay anonymous.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Yellow River
While Captain Chi Quan readied his convoy of wall builders to head west, the Emperor sent Lieutenant He Zhu east to Shanhaiguan to evaluate the ramparts leading to the First Pass Under Heaven. It was just as Quan had warned: the walls were eroding, useless because they were built of earth, which made it ridiculously easy for invaders to enter the country. Repairs to the breaches were insufficient, and His Majesty decided the army must construct a whole new wall from the extreme frontiers of the Gobi Desert to the Manchurian border at the Yalu River. The barricade must be made of stout brick, built four thousand miles long, and thirty feet high, lined with solid towers, fortresses with permanent sentinels, and beacons to warn of impending invasions. It must be impregnable. His Majesty appointed Captain Chi Quan to oversee the erection of this monument to his greatness—what future generations would call the Dragon Wall. He had five years to finish it. It must run over the serpentine ridges of the Black Mountains until it reached the very edges of their world.
By the time Lieutenant He Zhu returned from his expedition in the east, winter was almost past. Quan was ready to leave for the border, but first he must take a detour to the Yellow River tributaries near Xian where the clay was rich and building stones abundant. He took half his men on this journey and sent the other half to Datong with He Zhu.
He had plans to join the existing walls built by previous dynasties; to construct a whole new wall in five years was impossible. The most important section to be raised was the stretch just north of Beijing. Once the brick barrier along the nearest border garrisons was solidified, His Majesty would feel safe.
The trek to the Yellow River tributaries would take at least a fortnight. Quan chose the strongest boys and men to accompany him on this journey. He also chose Li, though he wasn’t so brawny as the others. There was something about the lad that intrigued him. Partly it was his impulsiveness and his quickness to speak; partly it was his adeptness at the martial arts. He had made himself noticed the day of Quan’s return from the South Coast Waterworld when he came to the aid of a younger boy, besting a bully twice his weight. Courage, strength and loyalty were good traits in a worker. They were superb qualities in a fighter.
The boy rode close behind on a brown mare. Quan slowed the pace of his stallion, encouraging him to catch up. At times he caught glimpses of what could only be described as something effeminate, but then he recalled how this tall, slim lad had tackled the bully. Funny how he hadn’t noticed how light-skinned he was. His features were small, almost delicate, and if it wasn’t for the hard, determined look on his face, Quan almost thought the boy was a girl.
“So, your name is Li,” Quan said, casting him a sideways glance. “Tell me, who are your parents?”
“They are farmers.”
Like him, many of these boys came from rural backgrounds. The ones that didn’t—like Lok Yu whom Quan had sent to Datong with He Zhu—were from the hereditary army families who were wealthy landowners of the south. Quan had no particular love for Lok Yu, but the bully had been chosen to work on the wall because he was big, mean, and strong.
Li on the other hand—Why had he selected a slim, pale boy who could pass for a girl? Quan steadied his horse and turned to question him. “How long have you been training with Master Yun?”
“Almost two years.”
“How old are you?”
The boy looked at the ground, thrust his head up. “Thirteen.”
No wonder this boy looked like a girl. He had barely reached puberty. Why had Master Yun insisted he take this untried boy? Why had he taken the boy against his better judgement?
“Can you fight?”
“I believe you saw what I can do.”
Quan nodded. “Can you fight with a weapon, I mean. Subduing a bully is one thing, but there may come a time when the Mongols reorganize, gather their forces and attack our garrison while we work.”
“I have been practising with a sabre.”
Quan laughed. Why did he believe this impudent boy? And yet he did. “Are you any good? Can you kill a man?”
The boy turned his head until he looked Quan straight in the eye. “Let’s hope we never have to find out.”
Quan smirked, slapped his horse and raced on ahead. Dust flew. The boy galloped behind, caught up and reined his horse in as Quan slowed to a canter.
“Did I say something to displease you, Captain?” he asked, breathless.
“Your horsemanship is excellent.”
The afternoon waned, and in the distance he spied the muddy stream of one of the Yellow River tributaries that led to Xian.
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“What are you dreaming about, boy? Get off your horse. We’ll make camp here.”
Li shuddered back to the present and stared awkwardly at Captain Chi Quan. “I was thinking about the legend that surrounds that mound in the distance.”
Quan looked toward the great burial mound. “Yes. There are stories, and then there are stories. What were you thinking?”
“What’s really inside that mountain of dirt? Is it true what they say that First Emperor Qin is buried there with treasures untold?”
“Treasures? Who have you been talking to? The only treasures there are the ghosts of dead warriors.”
“But I heard the Emperor was buried with a gold chariot.”
“Perhaps. And yes, indeed, a gold chariot would be a treasure. What’s more likely true is that he was buried with his men. They’re all but bones now. Over a thousand years old.”
“Master Yun says that eight thousand terracotta soldiers are enshrined in the tomb with him.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” Li said, sincerely. “He says they were called the Night Guards Army. They are fully equipped with armour and weapons, hundreds of saddled combat steeds pawing the ground by their sides, the vanguard in trussed hair, bearing archer’s bows and crossbows. There are war chariots and infantrymen outfitted with spears, daggers, lances and halberds. The soldiers stand in battle formation, presenting a united front, an unbreakable all-conquering force.” Li stopped talking, breathless.
A curious look crossed the captain’s face. He removed the saddlebags from his mount and threw them to the ground. “Master Yun was right. You are too eager to fight.”
Quan had no time for a young boy’s fancies of battle and glory. The reality was to build a barrier along the northern frontier so strong that it couldn’t be breached. On this site by the tributary of the Yellow River, his men dug clay and hoisted stone for two months and at the end of that time, half of them transported the lot to Datong on a train of horse-drawn carts, while the other half remained to further dig and quarry. Lucky for Li, she was chosen to go with Quan to the Datong garrison.
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Spring had set the gardens to bloom and soon the soft summer winds would lift the chill from the air. There was no hope the Chinese could defeat the Mongols. They had been beaten before, but never conquered, and the warlord’s silence was worrying. Again and again they would rise, no matter how many times the Imperial Army cut them down. Tens of thousands had died at the hands of Ming warriors, and still they came. It was only a matter of time before Esen would surface. Over the winter, Jasmine had kept her distance, but she too would come for him. Master Yun must act. The wall from Datong to Xuanfu and Jizhou was complete; the army was now working west from Datong toward Shanxi. Somehow he must visit the ancient earthen tomb and find a way inside.
The sun was setting and with the coming of night, Master Yun sought with hawk’s eyes the mound of First Emperor Qin. He had no power to transfigure into the bird the same way Jasmine became a fox. She could run the distance to the tomb in a matter of days without tiring, but he could not sprout wings. His only hope was in his legs and
the span of his leap, because without war and death his power abated. But if he mustered enough energy from the earth itself, slipped on the mantle of the geomancer one more time, provoked the water from the fountain—as he had the day he escaped the fox faerie’s jaws—and sent a missive via the Yellow River, he could speak to the spirits of the lifeless soldiers beneath the giant earthwork.
Master Yun stood before the jade lily pads and the marble fish. The water trickled from the rock above his head into the stone basin where it gradually absorbed back into the earth. He drew on all the power he could muster. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes, frowned. Was there an alternate way to achieve his goal? Yes! He must save what little power he had left and hope that it would rise anew when he reached his destination.
%%%
Though spring hovered, the wind off the frozen river bit into the skin. The brown grasses frosted with snow stippled the landscape. Li tolerated the rough work and the cold garrison. Strict discipline from Master Yun’s training helped her to overcome the discomfort, and thick furs kept her warm as her breath crystalized and the sweat on her eyebrows slickened to ice. Warmer days arrived and as the land transformed from dust to green, she blossomed full into womanhood. She would have to work hard to hide the fact. Staying anonymous was difficult with Lok Yu so near. The looks he sent her were malicious and spiteful, and if ever he learned her identity, he would exact his revenge.
A kiln had been built in an area cleared of brush. The clay bricks were baked to a grey brown colour, and when they were ready, they were carted long distances by horse-drawn cart. The shorter distances were traversed on foot with a carrying pole across a man’s shoulders and two baskets of bricks at either end. Where Li worked in the hills near Datong, a line of men passed bricks from hand to hand, uphill to the construction site of a fortress. The bricks were mortared with a concoction of mud and cooked glutinous rice.
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