The Pirate Empress

by Deborah Cannon

“Tao will create a distraction and I will whisk Li away from the executioner’s blade by horseback.”

  “Too risky. You are fast, Quan, and agile, a spirited fighter and expert horseman. But you forget—there will be sentries and soldiers far outnumbering your effort. You forgot about the fox faerie. Both you and Tao will be slain.”

  “We have no choice. I won’t leave her there. You don’t know what they’ve done to her. Death by trying is better than not trying at all.”

  The expression on Master Yun’s face remained stoic. “I didn’t say we weren’t going to save her. Naturally, we will and must. But control your emotions, Quan. I expect that kind of impulsiveness from He Zhu, but not from you.”

  “Zhu can’t be trusted.”

  “I know. Now listen to me, both of you. We must move quickly.”

  Master Yun motioned to Tao who was cowering with shame. His forehead was bruised from the water-drop torture and his fingernails black with crusted blood. No one had to tell Master Yun how Li’s cover was blown for he had sensed the disturbance even while inside First Emperor’s tomb. “Tao, you will have a chance to redeem yourself. I don’t blame you, nor does the captain. Lotus Lily loves you—and that won’t change. Without my magic you were powerless to prevent the course of events. Huli Jing is too powerful.”

  “I should’ve let them cut out my heart.”

  “What purpose would that have served? We need you alive.”

  At the jade plant Master Yun seized the bronze scimitar where he had left it, hilt-end up, projecting from the planter, and raised it to the sun’s rays that shot through the entrance to the marble floor. A gasp rose from his companions as his appearance changed. “I don’t know what else this blade is capable of, but I know Yongfang gave it to me for a reason. He brought down one empire and inadvertently allowed the Mongols to infest the land. Though he didn’t speak these sentiments in words, I know his heart. He wants restitution. This blade will help him to do it through our actions. Lotus Lily must be saved.”

  Master Yun handed the ancient weapon to Quan. “The magic in Yongfang’s scimitar will mask your identity. Bridle your horse; we go to the palace. Tao, prepare us for a long journey. We need food, water, blankets and horses. Quick now. The sun rises swiftly.”

  When all was ready, Tao was instructed to take the horses and provisions to the outskirts of town to wait by the farmhouse at the crossroad, while Quan and Master Yun rode to the Forbidden City and told the sentry that they had come to witness the execution of the princess. Because Master Yun was still respected by one of the guards—a former student of his—they were allowed to pass through the gates with no questions asked.

  “That was the easy part,” Master Yun said when they were safely inside the gate. “Now comes the hard part. Find somewhere to hide yourself and your horse. When the moment is ripe, you know what to do. I have a meeting with an old friend. Or rather, an old enemy.”

  “Where are you going? Li needs you,” Quan said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. We shall execute the rescue as planned. But first, there is something I must do. Go now. The sun is high!”

  Quan walked his horse to the back of the public square where rider and steed could be hidden by the shade of a massive green pillar.

  Master Yun slipped under an arched doorway and entered the palace. He must act quickly. He stood in one of the Imperial audience halls and stopped to take in a breath. He must gather all of the forces that remained to him. He knew this was not the day he would defeat the fox faerie, but it was a day when he must divert her eye and her power from the public square. To wish Altan would act to avenge Esen’s death was duplicitous, for it was the only way he could increase his strength until First Emperor released his ghost warriors—but this did not happen. Altan did not choose this day to avenge his brother’s death.

  “Huli Jing,” Master Yun jeered. “Come to me, I am waiting for you. I saw your marks upon the mound. You wished to trap me in the mound of First Emperor, but you have failed. Try again, entomb me in my temple, you know you have the power. Just as you trapped First Emperor and his army, you can do the same to me, but this time, let’s do it face to face.”

  The faint scent of jasmine blossoms clotted his senses. The swishing of a silk gown came from somewhere in the room. A few seconds passed and a flash of gold forked in the window.

  Master Yun gathered his robes together and followed.

  %%%

  So, the old warlock had found a way out of First Emperor’s tomb. He dared to challenge her? She would give him something to remember her by. She must finish this quickly, and return in time to watch Lotus Lily’s head roll to the floor in front of her beloved captain. The fox raced through the palace grounds, past the sentries to the Koi Gardens and finally to the temple where she reverted to her human form. The old warlock was getting slow, which meant his power was fading, and if he didn’t arrive in another few minutes she would go in search of him. She went to the Jade Fountain and stuck her hand into the water, and screamed as the water burned. Damn the old man. Even in his absence, the temple repelled her.

  Jasmine paced the floor. She had not tried a sealing spell since she tired of Emperor Qin. As she recalled, it was simple: an incantation to call on the forces of reversal—one could not exit if one could not enter—and then a spell to collapse the pillars of the temple. That might thwart his powers, or not. Either way, he would be trapped for eternity because a warlock, like a fox faerie, was immortal, and they could only die if their heads were sliced off.

  “Jasmine,” Master Yun said from the doorway. “You have come.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t? Come inside. Refresh yourself. It’s hot outside.” She yawned. “It must be almost noon.”

  “It is indeed.”

  “I’m sorry it had to be this way.” She was feeling superiorly confident because the old warlock looked like he had gone to hell and back. She smiled smugly. His robe was ratty and torn and he looked nothing like the warrior sorcerer he used to be. “So, you want to miss the beheading of your favourite student?” she heckled.

  “How long have you known about Lotus Lily?” he asked.

  “Not long. You did well protecting her identity. But no more.”

  “She no longer needs me to protect her identity.”

  “Indeed.”

  Master Yun ignored her scorn. “She is destined to marry Captain Chi Quan and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  She shot a glance over his shoulder to the sun. “I think not. I think already the executioner is positioning his blade over her lily-white neck. And I want to get back in time to see her head bounce into the dirt. Let’s get this over with. Stop dawdling and come inside. We shall see who is the most powerful.”

  “You brought down an empire once, Jasmine. Your treason has not gone unnoticed.”

  “Get in here, you annoying old man!”

  Master Yun leaped backward, raised his hands as she charged toward him, and an invisible force stopped her cold. A powerful stream of thick air spun, pushing her away from the entrance every time she tried to leave the temple.

  “What have you done?” she screamed.

  “I have given you a taste of your own treachery.”

  He swirled his hands in the air to triple the force of the windblast and then summoned the forces of reversal, calling on the power of the cyclone to spin the air in a horizontal surge. This trick wouldn’t last long, but hopefully long enough for Quan and Li to escape.

  %%%

  Where was Master Yun? He should have been back by now. He was supposed to create a diversion so that Li could be whisked away from the executioner’s blade. Quan had no alternative plan, and without Master Yun the rescue was too risky. There was nothing between Li and death—except this scimitar. Even if he got to her room, the windows were boarded and sentries stood in the courtyard as well as outside her bedchamber door. He needed a decoy, but whom could he trust?

  It was only minutes now before they w
ould lead her to the executioner’s stone. He paced the floor at the rear of the public square, fingering the sheathed scimitar at his hip. The magic of the blade only worked when the hilt was fully gripped. He looked toward the palace gates to plot his escape route, and saw He Zhu standing among the crowd. Could he trust him? Quan frowned. Jasmine was nowhere in sight. Sentinels flanked the Emperor. Quan hoped Master Yun was right about this blade. If they identified him as the rescuer, his service in the Imperial Army was finished.

  Through the arched doorway of the main palace two soldiers armed with daggers escorted Li. The executioner in his black robes and short beard stood waiting by the stone block, sharpening his sabre on a whetstone. She could barely walk. Amidst the roaring spectators she stumbled, fell, and the guards kicked at her to force her to stand up. Finally, one of them lifted her by the arms. “Murderer, harlot, sorceress!” The crowd badgered her. “The infant who magically defied the death sentence of His Majesty, the girl who bewitched the people into believing she was a boy. Now she is a woman—seducer and killer of young men.”

  Quan went to Zhu, placed an agitated hand on his shoulder, and the lieutenant turned to stare at him. “You, of all people, know that she is none of these things,” Quan said. Was that a hint of uncertainty in Zhu’s eye? “Many times you have saved my life, and I yours. Let’s put aside our differences. Lotus Lily needs us.”

  Zhu stiffened his neck and looked away. “She is condemned by the decree of His Majesty, the Ming Son of Heaven.”

  “This time, he is mistaken. This is his daughter. Zhu, you know that I am the last person to defy His Majesty. Always I am faithful and loyal. But the girl has committed no crime. The girl must live. The future of the Middle Kingdom depends on her survival.”

  “How so?”

  “She will bear a son: a ruler to bind all of China, a warrior to lead the Imperial forces against the Mongols and all its allies. She killed Esen. Isn’t that worth something?” Quan paused for a breath. Li was almost at the chopping block. He had no more breath to waste. “You know the girl, Zhu. You’ve spoken to her. Is she a murderer, a sorceress? When a man does these things, he’s hailed as a hero.”

  Zhu’s tight jaw softened slightly, but his eyes stayed focused on the spectacle. Quan sighed. He had made his best attempt. He turned his back on his old friend and rushed to where his horse waited.

  They were forcing Li to stand in front of the chopping block, pushed her to her knees. Quan mounted his horse, raised the Scimitar. Just as the executioner hoisted his sabre, Quan shot forward on his steed. The bronze blade captured the sunlight in a blinding flash, and he crashed through the crowd, sending them screeching in surprise. The Scimitar of Yongfang stopped the executioner’s sabre in a clang of metal. The sentinels charged, people screamed. Quan had only one sword, and he needed his other arm to sweep Li onto his horse—but a soldier whipped his blade into Quan’s face and he had to fight.

  “Run Li,” he yelled.

  She stumbled and fell, rose again in a heroic effort to escape, but then a horseman plunged through the gates and swept her onto his steed. “I’ve got her!” Zhu shouted.

  In the chaos, Quan could only see a flurry of colour as Li, in her dancing girl costume, and He Zhu, in Imperial grey and yellow, galloped out of the palace gates on horseback. Quan slashed the Scimitar one more time and speared a soldier that got in his way. As he withdrew the blade, blood dripped darkly onto the white stone floor of the public square. He looked up to see the backside of Zhu’s horse galloping through the city. With a high-pitched “Yah!” he spurred his mount through the gates in their wake.

  Heels deep in horseflesh, he rode like a ghost clutched at his tail. In the distance, he spotted Zhu with Li and an old man chasing them as though on his last legs, trying to catch up. As he squinted against the midday sun, he saw that the pursuer was Master Yun. The old master looked weak and drained and the closer Quan got, the more he realized that Master Yun was near collapse. At his heels now, Quan reined in his horse.

  “It is done,” Master Yun said, gasping for breath as Quan stopped beside him. “We have only minutes now before the fox faerie escapes my prison and comes for us.”

  Quan extended a hand to help him onto the back of his horse. He had not deserted them after all. Somehow, he had stopped Jasmine from preventing Li’s rescue and in the process had freed Zhu from the fox faerie’s power. “You imprisoned her? So, that’s why her power over Zhu has weakened.”

  He turned his head to see Master Yun nod. “It seems so. All the more reason to hurry.”

  “Will he turn on her, once Jasmine is free?”

  “I do not know.” Master Yun squeezed Quan’s shoulder. “No more talk. We must go.” He clutched Quan’s armour around the waist as the captain urged his horse to a gallop. “Make for the farmhouse at the crossroad to collect Tao and the supplies, then we head south to First Emperor’s mound.”

  They flew through the city, past the houses and markets and businesses to the outlying farmlands until they reached the crossing where Tao tarried with two provision-loaded horses. Zhu and Li already rested by the black-roofed farmhouse, Li in so much pain she did not notice Tao among her rescuers. Quan alighted and went to her. Much as he was grateful to Zhu for her rescue, he wouldn’t feel safe until she straddled his own horse. No time for talk or explanations. Master Yun took one of Tao’s horses, which happened to be Xingbar while Tao mounted the other. Quan stood facing his lieutenant. No words existed to thank him for his decency and heroism, and now Zhu had no choice but to join them as outlaws. Although the riot of people panicking and soldiers fighting had masked Zhu’s identity, there was no guarantee that he wasn’t recognized. Only Quan was safe because he had wielded the Scimitar of Yongfang.

  He mounted his steed. “Zhu,” Quan said, his voice thick.

  He Zhu nodded. No further words were needed. They must ride before His Majesty’s men found their trail.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Magic Square of Master Yun

  It had taken every remaining fibre of Master Yun’s strength to perform the windblast. The Emperor wouldn’t act until he had received the counsel of the fox faerie. He had been under the influence of Huli Jing much longer than He Zhu, and so the effects would take longer to wear off. She would escape before this happened.

  They rode for several days and even more nights. Master Yun chose a roundabout route to confuse any pursuers. The giant mound appeared in the distance, and at the dawning of another day they finally crossed the river flats leading to First Emperor’s tomb.

  This time the horses were led up the slope to the crest of the gigantic man-made hill. Scrubby growth and webbed thickets thwarted their progress. Summer had come early and already drought was threatening; dead vegetation tangled at their feet and the grass that made the mound so green in the summertime withered. At the summit, most of the dead patches gave way to bare earth, and rain and wind had long since swept away the dragon mark.

  From this vantage he had a spectacular view of all of the Middle Kingdom—but first he must attend to Li’s feet. A warrior maiden had no use for flowerpot shoes.

  On the parched ground, she moaned with pain, knees drawn up to where she clasped them with her arms, Tao at her feet, squeezing his eyelids shut in anguish. “I can never excuse myself for betraying your whereabouts,” he said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

  “Tao, I am just so glad you’re alive. The fox faerie told me you were dead, that everyone who had rescued Ling She’s newborn was dead. So please don’t talk like this. You didn’t give me away. You couldn’t have given me away. You did not know where I was.”

  “If I could suffer the pain in your place, I would gladly do it,” he said.

  “I don’t want to break your feet, Tao. And I most certainly do not want to see you in flowerpot slippers.”

  Tears streamed down the eunuch’s face and he failed to return her smile. “One day I will die for you, my Lotus Lily.”

  “T
ao,” Master Yun said. “If you really want to help, the best thing you can do is to locate the medicines I need. Much of the plant life here is dead, but find me danshen, the red sage, and bring me its roots, and the flowers of the dragon’s breath.”

  The eunuch got to his knees, kissed Li on the forehead and went to find the healing herbs.

  Inside a circle of stones, Master Yun set about making a fire with sticks and leaves. He sent Zhu to find wood and Quan to fetch water from the saddlebags strapped to the horses. He fed the fire with dried twigs and broken branches, and boiled water in a small copper pot, and by the time the water hissed and bubbled, the eunuch returned with everything needed. Skilled at many things, Master Yun sliced the root into slivers, before he dropped them and the crushed flowers of the dragon’s breath into the pot to steep. The petals of the dragon’s breath were to ease Li’s pain and the red sage root would heal her bruises. Master Yun sent Tao to search for food plants, and the eunuch descended the hill to hunt farther afield.

  While the brew cooled, Master Yun set Li’s feet with wooden splints. She cried out once, then grit her teeth, tears wetting her eyes. All the time he worked aligning her toe bones he was silent, and when done, he rose and walked a few paces away, leaving Quan to keep her company. He ignored the growing affection between the two young people and made a fist to glance at his Moonstone, but the gem was murky, as leaden as the sky overhead. What choice had he now but to rely on the arts of men?

  His hands slid into the bell-shaped sleeves of his robe as he took in the landscape. To the northwest were the Black Mountains, to the east the Yellow River delta; to the south was the Waterworld of the South China Sea and to the far north, the Mongol Steppes, the Gobi Desert and the Land of the Walking Bones. The shape of the terrain warned of peril from the north and west, and of uncertainty to the east. Only the south brought hope.

  Master Yun returned to where Li sat on the ground by the cooling herb brew. He tested the heat of the medicine, ripped a strip of cloth from his own robe, dipped the cloth into the solution and wrung it out, allowing the warm drops to dribble over Li’s broken feet. When her skin started to respond to the healing effects of the mixture, he squeezed out the cloth until it was only slightly damp before he wrapped it over her feet and told her to rest. The dragon’s breath was already working, and her face was no longer contorted in pain, although the danshen would take a little longer to mend the injured blood vessels and tissues.